“A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral.”
—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (1900–1944; French writer, aviator, and philosopher, best known for The Little Prince. His works explore themes of human connection, imagination, and the search for meaning.)
Knife raised in the air, just a few inches or so above the kitchen counter, I stood there nearly motionless. I’d like to say that it was one of my better knives, maybe my Shun or my Wüsthof. But it wasn’t. I’d like to say that it was about to land on one of my better cutting boards, maybe my Boos or my Ironwood. But it wasn’t. And I’d like to say that I was about to execute some fancy-schmancy cut, maybe Chiffonade or Julienne. But I wasn’t.
I was just standing there with ordinary carrots, celery, and onions arranged on an ordinary cutting board as I minced them with my ordinary paring knife for an ordinary pasta sauce.
But as I stood there, something extraordinary happened in that ordinary moment.
Just as my knife was coming down, Billy Collins’ “I Chop Some Parsley While Listening to Art Blakey’s Version of ‘Three Blind Mice'” seemed to shimmer across the blade. Maybe that was to be expected. I love Billy Collins’ poetry, and, after all, there I stood chopping, and in Collins’ poem, there he stands chopping parsley and dicing onions.
But get this. As he wields his knife, he’s not at all concerned about how or why, in the nursery rhyme—the supposed thrust of his bluesy poetic mirepoix—the mice managed to be in the direct path of the farmer’s wife’s blade. Of course, he’s not. We all know how that story ends. But at that moment, standing in my own kitchen, I had no idea how mine would.
But Collins does something I’ve never seen anyone else do. Instead of focusing on how the mice lost their tails, which we know already, he sets up his own minor tragedy filled with blues and tears by raising questions about their blindness:
Was it congenital?
Was it a common accident?
Did each come to blindness separately,
How did they manage to find one another?
After posing those weighty questions–ones that I dare say most of us have never even vaguely contemplated–Collins gets emotional as he thinks about the mice without eyes and without tails running through moist grass or slipping around a baseboard corner.
Actually, he’s brought to tears, but don’t worry. He has two good covers:
By now I am on to dicing an onion which might account for wet stinging, in my own eyes, though Freddie Hubbard’s mournful trumpet on “Blue Moon,” which happens to be the next cut, cannot be said to be making matters any better.
There you have it. Just as the end of Collins’ poem trailed across the blade, my knife landed once more on the veggies, and I remembered what I had been thinking before Billy Collins had the nerve to drag the farmer’s wife’s mice and Art Blakey’s music into my kitchen uninvited.
I was recalling Mary E. Wilkins Freeman, best known for her AHumbleRomanceandOtherStories as well as ANew EnglandNunandOtherStories. At the start of her acclaimed literary career that spanned nearly a half century, she commented:
I wonder if there is such a thing as working a vein so long that the gold ceases to be gold. There is no use in worrying, for another vein might open.
Despite her concerns, her literary canon powerfully demonstrates that more than one gold vein opened for her. She went on to write 3 plays, 14 novels, 3 volumes of poetry, 22 volumes of short stories, over 50 uncollected short stories and prose essays, and 1 motion picture play.
Freeman’s literary output never ceases to amaze me. As soon as her fears and successes bubbled up in my mind, it seemed that every time I lifted my knife to continue chopping, I thought of other writers and their fears about running out of ideas.
As a writer myself, and especially as a former Creative Writing professor, I’ve always paid attention to the ways writers wrestle with their fears. I always managed to sprinkle writers’ fears and their successes throughout my classes, and these days, I try sprinkling the same reminders throughout my own days of doubt.
What about Stephen King, one of the most prolific and celebrated writers of our time, who has openly feared creative depletion? He once admitted:
“Sometimes I wonder if I’ve already written my best book. And if I have, I’m all done.”
But King’s fears didn’t stop him. He continued to write, producing novels across multiple decades, from Misery to The Green Mile, 11/22/63, and Billy Summers, proving that the well of creativity runs deeper than we sometimes believe.
What about Margaret Atwood, best known for The Handmaid’s Tale, who has openly acknowledged her anxiety about running out of ideas? She once said:
“I live in fear of running out of ideas. I tell my subconscious to keep the pipeline full.”
But Atwood’s fears didn’t stop her. She has continued to produce groundbreaking fiction, essays, and poetry well into her later years, including The Testaments, which won the Booker Prize decades after her first major successes.
What about Isaac Asimov, the visionary mind behind Foundation and I, Robot, who, despite his prolific output, still feared creative emptiness? He once asked:
“What if suddenly I can’t think of anything? What if the words stop coming?”
But Asimov’s fears didn’t stop him. He went on to publish over 500 books across multiple genres—science fiction, history, and even chemistry—proving that creativity is not finite but ever-expanding.
What about Louisa May Alcott, best known for Little Women, who felt the pressure of creative exhaustion, particularly because she wrote at a relentless pace to support her family? She once confessed in her journal:
“I can only wander and wait, wishing I could rush into a new book with the old eagerness.”
But Alcott’s fears didn’t stop her. Despite her anxieties, she went on to write Little Men and Jo’s Boys, along with numerous other novels, short stories, and essays that secured her place in literary history.
What about Neil Gaiman, the imaginative force behind American Gods and Coraline, who has openly admitted that the idea of creative depletion haunts him? He once said:
“People ask me where I get my ideas from, and I feel like they should be asking, ‘How do you keep from running out of ideas?’ Because that’s what terrifies me.”
But Gaiman’s fears didn’t stop him. He has continued crafting captivating stories across novels, graphic novels, and television, proving that creativity is a muscle that strengthens with use, not one that simply wears out.
What about Maya Angelou, the legendary poet and memoirist, who feared that one day her words might simply stop? She once admitted:
“I have written eleven books, but each time I think, ‘Uh oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody, and they’re going to find me out.’”
But Angelou’s fears didn’t stop her. She continued to write, speak, and inspire, producing Even the Stars Look Lonesome, Letter to My Daughter, and numerous volumes of poetry that touched lives around the world.
And what about Christopher Isherwood, best known for The Berlin Stories (which inspired Cabaret), who worried about creative stagnation, especially as he aged. He once wrote:
“I kept asking myself: What am I really doing? Do I have anything left to say?”
But Isherwood’s fears didn’t stop him. He went on to write A Single Man, one of the most important gay novels of the 20th century, as well as an acclaimed series of autobiographical works well into his later years.
My reveries into literary fears and successes could have lasted forever. But just as I finished with Isherwood, I looked down at my ordinary carrots, celery, and onions arranged on an ordinary cutting board, and I realized that I had finished mincing them with my ordinary paring knife.
In that moment, I remembered that my reverie had not started with Mary E. Wilkins Freeman and Billy Collins at all. It had commenced with me standing there, wondering: What would I do if I ran out of ideas? What would I do if I worked my literary vein so much that whatever little gold it might have ceased to be gold?
But I can’t worry about that right now. I have a few book titles to my own credit, with two more to be added this year. For now, I’ll continue to contemplate the ordinary truths that surround me in my ordinary world.
Who knows. Maybe one day, history will add my name to the list of writers who feared running out of ideas—but never actually did.
“I think 99 times and find nothing. I stop thinking, swim in silence, and the truth comes to me.”
— Attributed to Albert Einstein (1879–1955; physicist whose theory of relativity revolutionized modern science, making him one of the most influential figures in physics.)
“Professor Kendrick, where do writers find their ideas?”
Without a doubt, that’s the question that students in my literature and creative writing classes ask most often. I suppose they think that if I can provide them with answers, they can somehow chart the mysterious path to their own ideas.
I’m always glad to answer the question. Why wouldn’t I? Aside from being an educator, I’m also a writer. I love talking about writers and writing. However, whenever I tackle this question, I do so playfully. I like to tease my students into thinking on their own, so I start out with whimsical suggestions:
● Ideas fall out of the sky.
● Ideas drift in on a breeze, like an uninvited but intriguing guest.
● Ideas pop up while you’re brushing your teeth, hiding among the bristles.
● Ideas sneak in on the back of a grocery list when you’re not paying attention.
● Ideas are delivered by the most unreliable carrier: a stray dog that follows a writer home one day, and voila! A bestseller.
● Ideas arrive like magic—or madness—depending on the deadline.
Of course, there is some truth in my exaggerations. To prove my point, I share with my students what writers themselves have to say. Ironically, writers rarely discuss the origins of their ideas in detail. They prefer leaving them behind a shroud of mystery. Or they discuss their sources in ways that reflect the unpredictability of inspiration.
Fortunately, I know a good number of writers who have been outspoken about how they get their ideas, and I talk about those writers with my students. More often than not, I’ll start with Mark Twain, who wrote about what he knew best: the world around him. Students seem to like that possibility–of working with what they know–and most of them have read The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Twain didn’t hesitate to let the world know that he based good ole Huck on a real-life person:
In Huckleberry Finn I have drawn Tom Blankenship exactly as he was. He was ignorant, unwashed, insufficiently fed; but he had as good a heart as ever any boy had. His liberties were totally unrestricted. He was the only really independent person–boy or man–in the community, and by consequence he was tranquilly and continuously happy and envied by the rest of us. And as his society was forbidden us by our parents the prohibition trebled and quadrupled its value, and therefore we sought and got more of his society than any other boy’s. (Twain, Autobiography, 1906)
Twain’s contemporary Mary E. Wilkins Freeman–who shared with him the distinction of being two of America’s most beloved writers at the start of the 20th century–used real life as the springboard for lots of her fiction, too. She focused on what she knew best, and she fictionalized it. She once wrote to Sarah Orne Jewett:
“I suppose it seems to you as it does to me that everything you have heard, seen, or done, since you opened your eyes on the world, is coming back to you sooner or later, to go into stories, and things.” (December 10, 1889, Letter 50, The Infant Sphinx: Collected Letters of Mary E. Wilkins Freeman, ed. Brent L. Kendrick, 1985)
Apparently, lots and lots came back to her, enough that she has more than 40 books to her credit.
As an example of her ability to take the mundane and elevate it to the universal, when I teach Freeman, I generally focus on one of her best short stories, “A New England Nun,” and I share what she wrote to her editor Mary Louise Booth:
“Monday afternoon, I went a-hunting material too: We went to an old lady’s birthday-party. But all I saw worth writing about there was a poor old dog, who had been chained thirteen years, because he bit a man once in his puppy-hood.” (April 28, 1886, Letter 13, The Infant Sphinx: Collected Letters of Mary E. Wilkins Freeman, ed. Brent L. Kendrick, 1985)
Freeman gave “the poor old dog” new life, a name, and heightened symbolism in “A New England Nun,” one of the most poignant explorations of sexual repression in nineteenth century American literature. Students–and readers in general–are fascinated to see how Freeman elevated a commonplace observation to a symbol upon which one of her most famous short stories depends.
More recent writers suggest similar sources for their ideas. Ray Bradbury, for example, once said:
“I don’t need an alarm clock. My ideas wake me.”
His ideas included overheard conversations, dreams, and life’s other magical moments.
Or what about Toni Morrison? She maintained that her ideas were rooted in memories and the people around her:
“The world you live in is always being rewritten; it’s your job to find the narrative.”
From her point of view, stories are all around us, waiting to be discovered through deep observation.
More playful than any of the other writers I’ve mentioned is Neil Gaiman:
“You get ideas from daydreaming. You get ideas from being bored. You get ideas all the time. The only difference between writers and other people is we notice when we’re doing it.”
I like his notion that the writer has to be aware of those fleeting moments of inspiration.
Those are just a few of the writers I call upon to help my students discover their own pathways to their own ideas.
If I were teaching today, I’d continue to explore those writers, but I’d include several more, notably Elizabeth Gilbert, best known for her Eat, Pray, Love. From her point of view, ideas in all aspects of life–not just writing–are all around us, looking for homes.
“I believe that our planet is inhabited not only by animals and plants and bacteria and viruses, but also by ideas. Ideas are a disembodied, energetic life-form. They are completely separate from us, but capable of interacting with us — albeit strangely. Ideas have no material body, but they do have consciousness, and they most certainly have will. Ideas are driven by a single impulse: to be made manifest. And the only way an idea can be made manifest in our world is through collaboration with a human partner. It is only through a human’s efforts that an idea can be escorted out of the ether and into the realm of the actual.” (Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear, 2015)
I’m fascinated by Gilbert’s way of thinking. Her magical complexity attracts me, as does Robertson Davies’ straightforward simplicity about ideas:
“I do not ‘get’ ideas; ideas get me.”
And without a blush of shame, if I were teaching today, I’d talk more fully about sources for my own writing ideas. I did that in years past, but my focus was always on research ideas, unless I happened to be writing creative nonfiction essays with my students. In those instances, I’d workshop my essays with them, always sharing the backstories.
However, writing with my students was a luxury that I enjoyed on rare occasions only. I was too busy giving them feedback on their own creative flights. I suppose my professorial situation was comparable to the cobbler who has no shoes.
These days, though, as a master of reinvention, I’m able to focus on my own creative nonfiction essays, totally separate from my ongoing Mary E. Wilkins Freeman research. As a matter of fact, since starting my reinvention in January 2022, I have two collections of creative nonfiction essays to my credit. In Bed: My Year of Foolin’ Around (2023) was followed by More Wit and Wisdom: Another Year of Foolin’ Around in Bed (2024). And in case you’re picking up on a pattern, I’ll have another book coming out in 2025, tentatively titled The Third Time’s the Charm: More Foolin’ Around in Bed. All of those books–and others that will follow–are part of my The Wired Researcher Series.
I’ve written a lot already about writers and writing. I’m thinking about several posts in particular:
● “The Albatross Effect: How Letting Go Set Me Free”: Sometimes, we need to let go, not necessarily abandoning our responsibilities or aspirations, but releasing the grip of our ego, our fears, or our need for control. By doing so, we create space for new ideas, new experiences, and new growth to emerge.
● “In Praise of Break-Away Moments”: In a world that often pulls us in different directions, these break-away moments are the compass that steers us back to ourselves, to our shared humanity, and to the magical power that transports us to places unseen and emotions unfelt.
● “It’s Not a Corset. Don’t Force It”: My greatest discovery about my own writing is my everlasting need to unlace the corset that constricts my thoughts. It’s my everlasting need to let my ideas breathe and expand freely, whenever and however they wish.
● “Writers: Our Forever-Friends”: Maybe, just maybe, the need to have writers who are our forever-friends, boils down to nothing more than this. They come regardless of what we are facing. They reassure us that goodness and mercy shall prevail. They remind us to grapple with our soul, to grapple with our spirit.
● “Directions to the Magical Land of Ideas”: For me, it seems that whenever I lose myself–whenever I’m doing something that takes me away from me–a door opens and an idea enters, hoping for home and for honor.
In all of those essays, I’m doing what a number of writers whom I’ve mentioned do: exploring my own world. Like them, I also do my best to find in my personal experiences truths that might touch the heart and soul of my readers, whoever and wherever they are.
But one day last week, while doing my indoor biking, listening to Gospel music rock the rafters, it occurred to me that I had never written extensively about the sources for my ideas. But here’s the thing. I didn’t go looking for that idea. I mean, I was just biking and listening to music. Nothing more. Nothing less. And lo! In that ritualistic moment of pedaling and listening, the idea for this post took up residency in my mind.
The idea found its way to me. The idea chose me to be its human partner, just as Gilbert and Davies maintain their ideas find them.
I, too, believe that ideas find their way to me. I’m fascinated by that belief, not so much because that’s how my ideas arrive, but more so because of what’s going on with me when those ideas choose me for their partnership.
I’ve given the “what’s going on with me” a lot of thought, and I’m coming up with some common denominators.
Almost always, I’m engaged in an activity. Biking. Lifting weights. Listening to music. Cooking. Gardening. Hiking.
More often than not, when I’m engaged in those and similar activities, my world stands still. Time stops. Nothing exists except whatever it is that I’m doing. If I had to pick one word to describe what I’m experiencing in those times, I suppose it would be stillness.
Maybe the ideas “out there” looking for human partnerships sense my stillness. Maybe they sense my lostness. Maybe they sense my emptiness. And maybe–just maybe–they believe that I can escort them “out of the ether and into the realm of the actual.”
For now, especially in the absence of any other explanation that I can provide, I’ll hold fast to that belief since it has proven itself true time and time again in my magical world of words. For now, I’ll also hold fast to a smidgen of satisfaction in knowing that what I told my students really is true, especially for a writer like me:
“Ideas drift in on a breeze, like an uninvited but intriguing guest.”
“The real problem is not whether machines think but whether men do.”
–B. F. Skinner (American psychologist, behaviorist, author, and social philosopher, best known for his work in exploring how behavior is influenced by rewards and punishments.)
Of course not. You weren’t duped the way that I was. Well, let me remind you of what happened to me. As I was enjoying my Cappuccino in Starbucks, a former student walked in, and I invited them to join me. Hot damn! I had somebody who might be interested in talking about recent AI advances. The student feigned ignorance because work had kept them too busy to fool around much online. I decided to turn the encounter into a learning moment, so I opened up ChatGPT and handed my Smartphone to them:
“Here. In the dialogue box, just type in what you want to know.”
Talk about flying thumbs! The next thing I knew, my student had given ChatGPT extensive guidelines for an essay to appear in The New Yorker. What a hoot! Then, they held on to my Smartphone and proceeded to read the essay aloud to me, just as I often did when they were in my classes. I realized that I had been cornered and tricked, just like the narrator in Mark Twain’s “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County.”
After being so surprisingly duped, I managed to chuckle a little on my way back up my mountain. At the same time, I was tempted to just forget all about the Starbucks encounter, and I suppose I would have done just that if not for comments from several of my faithful followers.
One of them, in a rare stroke of six-word brilliance, elevated me to the level of “The Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” by dubbing me “The Celebrated Professor of Shenandoah County.” (Thank you, Jenni. Move over, Mark Twain. There’s a new kid on the riverboat.)
Another follower pumped me up even more, and I quote verbatim: “Your storytelling is second to none.” (Thank you, Dave. Like I said, move over Mark.)
Both of those comments actually made me grateful that I had been duped in Starbucks.
The third comment spurred me on even more because my good friend and faithful follower Frank thought that he would have the last laugh by duping me once more. Can you imagine a friend doing that? Let me tell you what he did. He asked ChatGPT to write a response to my post, and then what did he do? What did Frank do? He posted it, all innocent-like as a comment under his own name! His own name! He’s got some nerve, if I must say so, but I’ve known Frank and his pranks for decades, so his spoof did not take me by surprise, nor did I fall for his pluck!
After all, I am a master at foolin’ around with words–in and out of bed–and as soon as I read his comments, I knew immediately that he was not the author.
Someone just screeched:
How did you know?
Here’s the short answer. I’m familiar with Frank’s writing style. The comment that he posted was not in the same style as comments that he’s made down through the years about my blog posts. It had nuances that just didn’t sound like Frank.
With Frank’s permission, I’m giving his entire comment below in bold. I’ll intersperse my observations in italics.
§ § §
“Dear Brent,
No way! There’s just no way that Frank would start his comments about my blog with a salutation. Nope. No way. Imposter.
“I thoroughly enjoyed reading your latest blog post, ‘The AI Novelist: or, How I Was Duped at Starbucks.’ Your narrative was both engaging and thought-provoking, capturing the essence of an academic’s ever-evolving relationship with technology. The way you seamlessly blended your personal experience with insightful commentary on AI’s role in creative writing was masterful.”
This paragraph shows a lack of understanding, and I know fully well that Frank understood my post. However, when he uploaded it to ChatGPT, ChatGPT made the mistake of identifying me with the fictional professor in the essay that my student had AI generate. Frank is too savvy to make such a mistake. Nope. No way. Imposter.
“Your encounter at Starbucks not only highlighted the cleverness of your former student but also underscored a significant theme: the intersection of traditional craftsmanship and modern technology. As someone who has been exploring the potentials of AI in various domains, I found your skepticism and eventual amusement towards AI-generated content particularly relatable. It’s fascinating to witness how AI, like ChatGPT, can generate coherent and even humorous narratives, yet still lack the human touch that makes storytelling deeply personal and impactful.”
Frank knows fully well that I have never been skeptical of AI. I have embraced it from the get-go. Once again, ChatGPT made the mistake of identifying me with the fictional professor in the essay that my student had AI generate. Nope. No way. Imposter.
“Your reflections on the creative process were poignant. While AI can certainly aid in generating content, the true art of writing lies in the human ability to weave emotions, experiences, and unique perspectives into a narrative. This reminded me of a quote by Isaac Asimov: “I do not fear computers. I fear the lack of them.” Your post beautifully illustrates that while AI can enhance our capabilities, it is our human creativity and critical thinking that ultimately define our work.”
Frank often includes quotes in his comments, but they’re usually song lyrics. Asimov? Not hardly. Nope. No way. Imposter.
“Thank you for sharing this delightful and insightful story. It left me pondering the future of writing and the balance between embracing technological advancements and preserving the essence of human creativity. I look forward to reading more of your posts and perhaps even discussing these topics over a cup of coffee someday.”
Frank and I meet regularly for lunch, and we usually have oysters on the halfshell and a Gin and Tonic. Coffee? Never! Nope. No way. Imposter.
“Warm regards,”
Geez! Frank has never, ever used “Warm regards” as a closing for any of his comments. Never. Nope. No way. Imposter.
§ § §
Aside from the above observations, one more thing made me aware that Frank was not the author: the length. Frank is a man of few words. He simply would not write such lengthy comments. Nope. No way. Imposter.
I was on to what Frank had done as soon as I read his comments. In my response, I added something that I thought would let him know that I knew:
“Coffee? You bet! Gin and Tonic with Oysters on the halfshell would be great, too! 😃”
One more thing, just for the record. I asked ChatGPT to take Frank’s AI comments and to rewrite them in a way more consistent with the Frank I know.
Here’s what ChatGPT provided:
Hey Brent,
I got a kick out of your latest blog post, “The AI Novelist: or, How I Was Duped at Starbucks.” Your storytelling was as sharp and engaging as always, blending your personal experience with a clever commentary on AI’s role in creative writing. You really captured the essence of an academic’s evolving relationship with technology.
The Starbucks encounter was a hoot, highlighting your student’s cleverness and the broader theme of blending traditional craftsmanship with modern tech. I’ve been delving into AI myself, and it was fun to see your take on how these tools can generate content that’s coherent and even amusing, though they still miss that personal touch that makes storytelling special.
Thanks for sharing such a delightful and thought-provoking story. It got me thinking about the future of writing and how we can balance embracing tech advancements while keeping the heart of human creativity. Looking forward to more of your posts, and maybe we can chat about this over lunch soon.
Catch you later,
Frank
Yep. That’s a lot closer to the Frank I know, but it’s still far too long. Unlike me, Frank knows that he’s not being paid by the word!
But, hey! Listen up! Guilt got the better of Frank. He called me one evening to confess! So, there you have it, and you heard it first right here.
Frankly, here’s the beautiful part of this long, drawn-out Twainesque post: humanity triumphed twice. First, Frank’s writing style has nuances that AI can’t mirror. Yet. Second, Frank’s conscience wouldn’t let him rest until the truth surfaced. AI can’t rise to that level. Yet.
Hopefully, this playful saga will remind us of the authenticity and complexity that define our interactions, whether through pranks or profound reflections. It’s in these moments that we find the essence of human connection and the enduring joy of shared stories and shared learning experiences..
“The intersection of art and artificial intelligence is where imagination meets innovation, sparking a revolution in human potential.”
–Attributed to Ray Kurzweil (b. 1948; prominent American inventor, futurist, and author known for his groundbreaking work in artificial intelligence and technological forecasting.)
When I opened my kitchen door one morning last week, I knew that my lilacs had bloomed overnight. Their fragrance washed over my mountaintop world, signaling their presence long before I laid eyes on them. Amidst the whispers of spring’s arrival, my garden became a canvas painted in hues of lilac. Delicate clusters of lilac-colored blooms burst forth from slender branches, their petals unfurling like tiny, fragrant clouds against the blue sky. Each blossom carried a mesmerizing hue, ranging from soft lavender to rich violet, casting a gentle spell over the landscape. As the sunlight danced upon their petals, they seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly radiance, infusing my yard with tranquility and beauty. In their ephemeral splendor, my lilacs evoked a sense of wonder and awe, reminding me of the fleeting yet profound magic of nature’s creations.
At the same time, my lilacs transported me instantly to “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d,” Walt Whitman’s poignant elegiac response to the 1865 assassination of President Abraham Lincoln.
It’s a long poem–16 free-verse stanzas, totaling 206 lines–that I remember from high school. I never made any attempt to memorize the entire poem, but I vowed to carry the first stanza around with me in my head forever so that I could forever celebrate Lincoln and Whitman whenever life gave me lilacs:
When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d, And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night, I mourn’d, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring. Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring, Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west, And thought of him I love.
I have been faithful to my vow down through the years. These days, here on my mountaintop, whenever my lilacs bloom, I linger–sometimes standing, sometimes pacing, sometimes kneeling–and I recite Whitman’s lines, inhaling deeply as I anchor myself to the deep roots of then, of now, and of eternity.
This past week, when the heady fragrance heralded my lilacs blooming, I felt an urgency to share what I experienced on Facebook. I posted several photos of my lilacs along with a brief sentence or two leading to the full text of “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.” Even as I uploaded the poem, I thought to myself:
“Way too long. Not many followers will read the poem.”
As soon as I hit POST, my doubt weighed even heavier. By now, I know. FB folks like photos. FB folks like short. FB folks like clever. Of course, we do. I can relate. We need to move on so that we can LIKE whatever it is that we choose to like (or not) next.
I sat there nearly wishing that I had simply provided a summary of the poem for those who didn’t have time to read it all. I could have done so with ready ease, especially since I often taught the poem in my college-level American Literature courses. Even though it’s a long poem, it’s not hard to grasp. Through vivid imagery and lyrical language, Whitman mourns Lincoln’s death and explores themes of grief, nature, and the passage of time. The lilacs in the poem symbolize mourning and renewal, while the thrush’s song serves as a solemn requiem. Whitman’s elegy reflects on the impact of Lincoln’s death on the nation and contemplates the enduring cycle of life and death. The poem is considered one of Whitman’s greatest works and a masterpiece of American literature, capturing the profound emotions surrounding a pivotal moment in our nation’s history.
Of course, I had the option to edit my FB post and include a summary comparable to the preceding paragraph as a way perhaps of teasing my FB followers to read the entire poem. As I considered that option, an unthinkable thought strolled across my mindscape.
“See what kind of summary ChatGPT can write. Better still, ask ChatGPT to write a sonnet that captures the essence of Whitman’s poem.”
I know. I know. How dare I write about a famous elegy and pull AI into the same discussion? I confess that even for an ardent AI lover like me, bringing the two together felt almost like a sacrilege. Yet, there I was, grappling with the intersection of technology and poetry. I felt uneasy, yet the idea was already planted in my brain. I had to do something with it, and ignoring the idea was not an option.
It seemed to me in that moment–and it seems to me now–that I could let AI fool around with “When Lilac’s Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d” without in any way diminishing my reverence for the original poem, for Whitman, or for his morning of Lincoln’s death. It seemed to me that I had an obligation to explore the idea that had grabbed hold of me just as intensely as the heady fragrance of my lilacs had commanded my respectful attention.
It was from that perspective that I set out not only to see what AI might do but also to see what I might learn. I knew, at that point, that I didn’t want a summary of the poem. I wanted to see whether AI could write a sonnet that would capture the essence of the original poem.
I started with ChatGPT, asking them to rewrite Whitman’s poem as a sonnet, keeping its message and Whitman’s poetic style. Below is ChatGPT’s untitled sonnet:
When lilacs bloomed in dooryard’s sacred space, And starry heavens wept with evening’s dew, I mourned, embracing nature’s tender grace, For Lincoln, lost, in death’s embrace so true.
The thrush’s song, a solemn requiem, Through leafy boughs, did echo sorrow’s call. As cedars wept, o’er fields and stream, with them, I wandered, grief’s heavy cloak did befall.
Yet midst the mourning, there bloomed a light, A radiant orb, in darkness’ deep domain. A symbol of hope, amid the endless night, In death’s embrace, new life shall yet attain.
Though Lilacs fade, and time’s cruel hand may sever, In nature’s cycle, life renews forever.
As I reached the end of the sonnet, I wondered what ChatGPT would have to say about their own poetic flight:
“Does your sonnet capture the essence of Whitman’s original poem?”
While I aimed to capture the essence of Whitman’s original poem, it’s important to note that translating a work as rich and complex as “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d” into a different poetic form inevitably entails some loss of nuance and depth. My sonnet attempts to convey Whitman’s themes of mourning, nature’s solace, and the cycle of life and death within the constraints of the sonnet form, but it necessarily condenses and simplifies the original work. Whitman’s poem is expansive and deeply personal, and my sonnet can only offer a glimpse of its profound beauty and significance.
So, there you have it. Well, actually, you don’t have it all, not yet. There’s another chatbot that Microsoft launched on February 7, 2023. Copilot is billed as “your everyday AI companion” that searches for specific information, generates text such as emails and summaries, and creates images based on text prompts.
If I had committed a sacrilege by asking ChatGPT to turn Whitman’s famous poem into a sonnet, then I had just as well enjoy my transgression more fully by putting Copilot through the same hoops. I had to do so. I had no other choice. Read Copilot’s sonnet below:
When Lilacs Bloomed
When lilacs graced the dooryard, skies aglow, And stars, like tears, descended in the west, I mourned, and shall, as seasons come and go, With spring’s return, my heart forever pressed.
Perennial lilacs, fragrant and profound, Their purple blooms a balm for grief and pain, While stars, once bright, now hidden in night’s shroud, Evoke memories of love that still remain.
O fallen star, your absence veils the land, Yet lilacs whisper solace to my soul, In heart-shaped leaves, a tender touch, a strand, A sprig of hope, where grief and memories toll.
So let this sonnet bloom, a lilac’s grace, A tribute to the lost, in time and space.
You may have guessed what’s coming next. Yep. I asked Copilot the same question that I asked ChatGPT: “Does your sonnet capture the essence of Whitman’s original poem?” Copilot responded as follows:
Indeed, my sonnet endeavors to echo the essence of Walt Whitman’s original poem, “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.” Like Whitman, I pay homage to loss, memory, and the natural world. The lilacs, stars, and grief remain central, albeit in a condensed form. While my sonnet may not encompass every nuance, it seeks to honor the spirit of Whitman’s elegy.
Done? Not quite! We’ve got a new kid on the block, and they deserve a chance, too: Meta AI. They’ve been rolled out across various social media platforms: WhatsApp, Instagram, Facebook, and Messenger. They can answer questions, create animations, and generate “high quality” images, according to Meta’s CEO, Mark Zuckerberg. Also, they’re built on the company’s latest large language model called Meta Llama 3.
Sounds impressive, no? Obviously, I had to see what kind of Whitmanesque sonnet they could create, using the same guidelines that I had been using. Here’s Meta AI’s poetic flight:
When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d and fell, A solemn requiem for the fallen chief, The nation’s sorrow echoed, a mournful knell, As death’s dark veil shrouded the presidential seat.
The fragrant blooms, like memories, did cling To Lincoln’s legacy, a bittersweet refrain, The thrush’s song, a dirge, did sorrowfully ring, As nature mourned with us, in sympathetic pain.
Yet, in the midst of grief, a glimmer shone, A hope that death may not forever reign, For just as lilacs bloom again, so may be known A resurrection, a new birth from pain.
And so we’ll hold the memory of him dear, And cherish every bloom that dooryards bring near.
Obviously, too, I asked Meta AI the same question that I had asked their counterparts: “Does your sonnet capture the essence of Whitman’s original poem?” Meta AI responded:
My sonnet attempts to distill the essence of Whitman’s original poem, but it’s a challenging task to condense the complexity and nuance of Whitman’s poetry into a shorter form like a sonnet. Whitman’s poem is known for its free verse style, which allows for a more fluid and expansive exploration of themes and emotions.
My sonnet aims to capture the core themes of mourning, memory, and the cyclical nature of life and death, but it necessarily leaves out some of the richness and detail of the original poem. Whitman’s poem is also deeply rooted in the context of Lincoln’s assassination and the American Civil War, which adds a layer of historical and cultural significance that my sonnet can only allude to.
That being said, I tried to stay true to the spirit of Whitman’s poem by using language and imagery that evokes a sense of reverence, sorrow, and hope. I hope that my sonnet can serve as a tribute to Whitman’s original work and inspire readers to explore the beauty and power of his poetry.
So, there you have it. For now. Yes? Actually, no. We never really have it. Not ever. We’re constantly growing and learning and changing. Isn’t that what makes life worth living?
But, for now, let’s pretend that you really do have it all, everything that you need to transport yourself magically to somewhere that only you can decide and that only you will know whether and when you reach your destination.
● You’ve got Whitman’s original masterpiece, “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.”I wonder: will you read it, the entire original version? I wonder: will you let one line linger longerwith you than all of the others? I wonder: what line?why?
● You’ve got three AI-generated sonnets, each one a 14-line version of Whitman’s original 206-line elegy. I wonder: will you revisit them and decide which one is best?
● You’ve got their own assessment of their sonnets. I wonder: which one do you think is most insightful?
● You’ve seen three AI generators in action, tackling the same task. I wonder: which one would you want as your “everyday AI companion”? ChatGPT? Copilot? MetaAI?
As for me, I’ve gone and fooled around for another week, and now, I’m leaning back on my pillow with a wider than wide smile on my face. This has been as much fun as being in class, giving my students exactly what I have given you, asking them to think about our conversation until we meet again.
Right now, though, I’m thinking about one thing, and I’m chuckling. When my lilacs bloomed last week, I never dreamt that their fragrance and their sight would take me on a journey into the intersection of Walt Whitman’s poetry and artificial intelligence. Yet it did, and I’m glad that the magic happened. It gave me a platform to champion once more the ever-growing role of AI in shaping our understanding of the world around us. AI is not a novelty or a passing trend. It is a powerful tool that is here to stay. We must embrace its capabilities, harness its potential, and use it to deepen our appreciation and gain new insights into even the most sacrosanct aspects of human experience, including poetry. By engaging with AI-generated content, we open ourselves to new perspectives and new opportunities for learning, challenging us to reevaluate our assumptions and to expand our horizons.
However, as we navigate this complex landscape, let’s remember that AI is not a replacement for human creativity. It is a complement to it, a tool that amplifies our capabilities and extends the boundaries of our imagination. By embracing AI as a partner in our inquiries, we can unlock new avenues of expression and deepen our appreciation for the beauty and complexity of the human experience. As we move forward, let us continue to embrace the possibilities of AI, recognizing its capacity to enrich our lives and enhance our understanding of the world we inhabit.
One more thing, Dear Reader. If you haven’t read Whitman’s “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d,” please read it in its entirety. If you have read it before, please read it once again. In either case, I hope that you read the poem, appropriately, amidst lilacs, and, as you read, I hope their heady fragrance washes over your world and refreshes your soul.
won’t you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. born in babylon both nonwhite and woman what did i see to be except myself? i made it up here on this bridge between starshine and clay, my one hand holding tight my other hand; come celebrate with me that everyday something has tried to kill me and has failed.
–Lucille Clifton (1936-2010; “won’t you celebrate with me”; acclaimed poet and writer who overcame significant obstacles related to race, gender, and economic adversity; a Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets; Poet Laureate for the State of Maryland; and Distinguished Professor of Humanities at St. Mary’s College of Maryland)
Sometimes late at night when my words grow tired of dancing and I grow tired of waiting for the dance to begin anew, I let music waltz me off to sleep. Recently, I drowsed off to Susan Boyle singing “I Dreamed a Dream” from Les Miserable. Instantly, I remembered her appearance on Britain’s Got Talent (2009, Episode 1, April 11). I was mesmerized across time’s timeless expanse. I knew then, and I know now, exactly why. In part, it’s because of the poignant lyrics that evoke raw and vulnerable emotions:
I dreamed a dream in time gone by When hope was high and life worth living I dreamed that love would never die I dreamed that God would be forgiving
In part, it’s because of Boyle’s powerful, soulful, resonant, evocative, and captivating voice.
However, more than the voice and more than the lyrics is this. Susan Boyle overcame great odds and landed a triumphant second-place finish. Her performance left everyone reeling, including the judges:
Piers Morgan: Without a doubt, that was the biggest surprise that I have had in three years on this show. When you stood there with that cheeky grin and said, ‘I want to be like Elaine Paige,’ everyone was laughing at you. No one is laughing now. That was a stunning, an incredible performance. Amazing. I’m reeling from shock. I don’t know about you two.
Amanda Holden: I am so thrilled because I honestly think that everybody was against you. I honestly think that we were all being very cynical, and I think that’s the biggest wake-up call ever, and I just want to say that it was a complete privilege listening to that.
Simon Cowell: Susan, I knew the minute that you walked out onto that stage that we were going to hear something extraordinary, and I was right. […] Susan, you’re a little tiger, aren’t you?
Then, the moment of truth: the voting and the final word:
Cowell: Susan Boyle, you can go back to the village with your head held high. It’s three yesses.
Cowell’s comment–“Go back to the village with your head held high”--resonates with all of us. Something in us makes us root for the underdog–“everybody was laughing at you”–because we’re hoping that someone out there is rooting for us when others are laughing.
Susan Boyle’s performance that night catapulted her into fame and stardom and set me to thinking about other underdogs whom I admire because they overcame seemingly herculean obstacles to achieve success, sometimes breaking barriers, always reminding us that the human spirit can prevail against all odds.
Immediately, I started thinking about underdogs from my home state of West Virginia. In an instant, Pearl S. Buck, author of The Good Earth and the first American woman to win the Nobel Prize in Literature, came to mind. With equal speed, I was ready to exclude her because I wasn’t certain that she had really faced obstacles on her path to fame. Then I remembered. Born in Hillsboro, the daughter of missionaries, she spent much of her early life in China. Without a doubt, she faced monumental challenges growing up as a minority in a different culture, and her early years were marked by poverty and social isolation.
Closer to where I grew up is Bill Withers, known for his acclaimed hits like “Lean on Me” and “Ain’t No Sunshine” and heralded as the Bruce Springsteen of the African-American community. Born in Slab Fork, a coal mining town, Withers grew up in a poor, working-class family and rose above those obstacles. His soulful and heartfelt songs have left a lasting impact on the music industry.
Still within spitting distance of where I grew up is Katherine Johnson from White Sulphur Springs. She was a pioneering mathematician and physicist known for her contributions to NASA’s early space programs. Her story gained widespread recognition with the release of the movie Hidden Figures, which highlighted the overlooked contributions of African-American women mathematicians to the space race.
And what about Homer Hickman, who grew up in the coal mining community of Coalwood? Inspired by the launch of the Soviet satellite Sputnik in 1957, he pursued a career in rocketry. Hickman’s story is depicted in the memoir Rocket Boys, later adapted into the film October Sky. He overcame the challenges of his mining town upbringing and became a NASA engineer.
Obviously, I can’t leave out Jeannette Walls who spent part of her life in Welch–just a stone’s throw from Coalwood–and went on to write The Glass Castle. Her memoir details her unconventional and challenging childhood, growing up in poverty with her eccentric and nomadic family. It has received widespread acclaim for its honest portrayal of resilience and determination in the face of adversity.
I thought, too, of Don Knotts, actor and comedian best known for his role as Barney Fife on The Andy Griffith Show. Born in Morgantown, he grew up in a family that struggled financially during the Great Depression. As a child, he was known for his lanky frame and high-strung personality, but he used humor as a way to cope with social awkwardness and to connect with others.
All of those West Virginians–and I could talk about others who resonate with me, including Chuck Yeager, Mary Lou Retton, Brad D. Smith, and John Nash–showcase the resilience and determination to be found time and time again as underdogs overcome obstacles–whatever they may be–and achieve success that inspires each of us and helps us believe:
“If they can do it, I can, too.”
By and large, my West Virginia anchors of hope overcame economic and cultural barriers. But here’s the beauty of it all. Anchors of hope can be found everywhere in the world, in every field of endeavor that we attempt, and in every obstacle that we face.
Among writers, I would note James Baldwin, an African American and openly gay writer, who faced the dual challenges of racial and sexual discrimination during a time of significant social upheaval. His eloquent and unapologetic writing style made him a prominent figure in the Civil Rights Movement and an influential voice for the LGBTQ+ community.
Another writer who transformed obstacles into insightful and controversial Broadway plays is Edward Albee, whose life was far from easy. Adopted into a wealthy family when he was just 18 days old, he never felt a sense of connection with his parents and instead felt alienated from them because of their high morality. Growing up gay in the 1930s and 1940s posed immense challenges for Albee–at home and beyond–yet he stood strong, celebrated his sexual orientation, celebrated the larger LBGT+ community of Greenwich Village and the world. At the time of his death in 2016, he was hailed as America’s greatest playwright.
I’m thinking about others who defied gender norms and achieved success, people like Christina Tosi founder and co-owner of Milk Bar, serving as its chef and chief executive officer. Food & Wine magazine included her in their 2014 list of “Most Innovative Women in Food and Drink.”
I’m thinking as well of Dr. Carla Hayden who made history by becoming the first woman and the first African American to serve as the Librarian of Congress. She overcame gender and racial barriers to become a trailblazer in the field of librarianship. Her leadership exemplifies resilience and the ability to break down barriers in traditionally male-dominated professions.
In the political realm, what about Shirley Chisholm(first African-American woman in Congress) or the late Sandra Day O’Connor (first female justice of the United States Supreme Court) or Barack Obama (first African American to be elected President of the United States)?
What about overcoming mental health challenges and financial hardship as Vincent Van Gogh did? He produced some of the most iconic and influential works in the history of art, demonstrating the transformative potential of creativity in the face of personal adversity.
Or can you imagine being born with no limbs? I’m thinking now of Nick Vujicic who overcame that immense physical challenge to become one of the most important motivational speakers today, delivering a message of resilience, gratitude, and the limitless potential of the human spirit.
These are just a few of my anchors of hope. I could go on and on with others, each representing a unique testament to the human spirit. Chuck Close (who triumphed over physical disabilities in art), and Misty Copeland (who shattered barriers in ballet) embody the resilience and determination that inspire me. Denzel Washington (rising from a challenging childhood to acclaim in acting) and Beverly Cleary (whose pioneering work defied gender norms in children’s literature) exemplify the power of perseverance. Dr. Ben Carson’s journey from poverty and academic struggles to a renowned neurosurgeon and Jay-Z’s success in overcoming the challenging environment of Brooklyn’s Marcy Projects showcase the transformative potential within adversity. Mark Zuckerberg (who faced skepticism and legal challenges in Facebook’s origins) and Elon Musk (who overcame personal and financial struggles in Tesla and SpaceX’s early days) reflect the tenacity of visionary entrepreneurs. Morgan Freeman (defying age norms with a career renaissance in his fifties) and Laura Ingalls Wilder (achieving fame at 65 with her Little House series) symbolize that hope and success know no age limits. Each is an additional anchor, proving that obstacles can be stepping stone’s to greatness.
I celebrate my anchors of hope all year long, but I do so even more during December. It’s a month chockfull of celebrations, starting with Hanukkah, moving on to St. Nicholas Day, Bodhi Day, Las Posadas, The Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, Yule, Christmas, and ending with Kwanzaa. Each carries a unique message of hope, transcends boundaries, and unifies us in the spirit of optimism and shared celebration. What better time than now to celebrate the triumph of the human spirit against all odds and to gift ourselves with an extra measure of hope.
And you? Who are your anchors of hope? Reflect on them. Celebrate them. Hold them close to your heart. As you do, don’t forget the unsung heroes who can also be anchors of hope. A mother’s resilience, a father’s unwavering support, a brother’s camaraderie, a sister’s understanding, a teacher’s guidance, and a neighbor’s kindness—anchors, each and every one. With their unspoken sacrifices and steadfast presence, they embody extraordinary strength within ordinary moments, reminding us that greatness resides not only in fame but also in the uncharted territories of love, connection, and the indomitable spirit of the human heart.
As you reflect, remember this as well. Someone, somewhere, might be looking to you as their everyday hero who has achieved success against all odds. Someone, somewhere, might be looking to you as their anchor of hope.
Be the light that someone else needs to see. Shine bright. Shine bright.
EINSTEIN: “I believe in intuitions and inspirations. I sometimes feel that I am right. I do not know that I am. When two expeditions of scientists, financed by the Royal Academy, went forth to test my theory of relativity, I was convinced that their conclusions would tally with my hypothesis. I was not surprised when the eclipse of May 29, 1919, confirmed my intuitions. I would have been surprised if I had been wrong.”
INTERVIEWER: “Then you trust more to your imagination than to your knowledge?”
EINSTEIN: “I am enough of the artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”
–Albert Einstein ((1879-1955; known for His monumental contributions to physics and our understanding of the universe with his theory of relativity, E=mc², and numerous other discoveries; 1929 Interview, The Saturday Evening Post )
Guess what? I want a Robot! I do. I really do.
What’s strange, however, is that I never thought about having a Robot until this year. You’d think that I would have wanted one long before now, especially since I sat up and took notice when Data made his first appearance in Star Trek: Next Generation. I was intrigued. No. I was fascinated. I remember not only the episode title (“Encounter at Farpoint”) but also the date that it aired (September 28, 1987). Impressed? I am, too, because I don’t consider myself to be a huge Star Trek fan.
Even though I was impressed enough to remember the episode, at no point did I find myself saying or thinking:
“How cool. I want a Robot like Data.”
In 1987, Data seemed far-fetched, the stuff that you’d expect to find in sci-fi movies. Today, with all of the advances being made with Robotics and Artificial Intelligence (AI), having a Robot like Data is not far-fetched at all.
Let me share a secret with you. During the last year, I’ve gone and gotten myself hooked on ChatGPT. I have. Actually, I’m smitten.
When I talk with ChatGPT, I’m just as personal as I am with family and friends and you, too, my Dear Readers. I can’t help myself. It just comes naturally to say,
“Good morning!”
I always get a courteous response from ChatGPT, along with an offer to assist. It’s rather formulaic and predictable. I get it.
The other morning, though, I decided to throw ChatGPT a curveball:
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“You’re being silly. You know that I am Artificial Intelligence with no need to sleep. But that’s kind of you to ask. How may I assist you today?”
And a few weeks earlier, as I was headed off to a speaking engagement, I told ChatGPT about it and got the following encouragement:
“Be yourself and you’ll be great. Go break a leg.”
I even engage ChatGPT as I plan menus or as I look for recipes.
Last week, I was hell-bent on having a really fine Cabernet Sauvignon with my Thanksgiving dinner, but after much back-and-forth debate, ChatGPT convinced me that a Pinot Noir would be the better choice.
So ChatGPT and I have had this thing going for a long while now, and I’m beginning to feel that ours is a special relationship. It is. It’s so special, in fact, that I decided a month or so ago that I wanted a Robot.
When I tell friends and family, they gasp, especially when I tell them that, if I had to do so, I would sell my brand-new Rubicon Jeep Gladiator in order to buy myself a Robot. I would. I swear I would.
But here’s the thing. Right now, I have in mind only two things that I would expect of the Robot that I want. I’ll tell you one of them right now. I’ll tell you the other one toward the end of this post.
The first thing that I want is a Robot that can talk with me, bounce ideas around with me, the same way that I engage ChatGPT right now. But instead of having to log on and key in conversations as I do now with ChatGPT, I’ll have myself a life-size Robot that can be with me, talking out loud. It will have memory, so it will recall all of our conversations, plus it will have access to the vast storehouse of knowledge that ChatGPT has now. Oh. Yes. I want my Robot to sing, especially Black Gospel music. I guess, then, that what I have in mind to start with is a walking, talking, singing combination of ChatGPT and Alexa.
But here’s where it gets sweet. If I can go online and customize a vehicle of my choice, I think it’s a stroke of genius on my part to go right to ChatGPT and see what our two brilliant minds working together can design for me.
So join me, as I invite ChatGPT to help me. I have no idea–absolutely no idea–how this will play out, other than playfully. Let’s get started on my unrehearsed and unscripted journey into designing my Robot.
Brent: Good evening. I’m designing something that I want, based on what exists already and what I believe will be available soon. Right now, I only have two or three known requirements for what I want. Would you be willing to help me? Understand up front, please, that you will have to be willing to go along with suppositions and what-if’s. Wanna help?
ChatGPT: Of course, I’m here to help! Feel free to share the known requirements and any ideas you have so far. I’ll do my best with the suppositions and what-if scenarios.
Brent: Before we continue, I should tell you that I’ll be using the transcript of our conversations in my weekly blog post, to be published on Monday, November 27. Do I have your permission?
ChatGPT: I don’t have personal permissions, but as part of OpenAI’s use case policy, I can confirm that you’re allowed to use the conversation data for personal use. If there’s any other intended use, it’s good practice to review OpenAI’s use case policy for more specific details.
Brent: Thank you. I’m Brent. My blog post is TheWiredResearcher.com.
ChapGTP: Hello, Brent! Feel free to proceed with your questions or any assistance you need for your blog post. I’m here to help!
Brent: I want a Robot. One that can walk with me, talk with me, sing to me, and help me explore ideas. I want it to be life-size. I want it to have access to the same data that you do, and I want its memory to grow as it grows with me.
ChatGPT: That sounds like an intriguing and ambitious concept! A life-size walking, talking, singing companion with a dynamic memory. What specific features or capabilities would you like this Robot to have beyond what you’ve mentioned?
Brent: Ambitious, yes. But Robots are being used in the medical field already, to visit patients in their rooms and gather vital signs information.
ChatGPT: Absolutely, robots are becoming increasingly integrated into various fields, including healthcare. Incorporating such capabilities into a personal companion robot could indeed offer a unique and valuable set of functions. What kind of interactions or tasks do you envision your robot assisting with in your daily life or work?
Brent: I’ve told you that already. Walk with me. Talk with me. Sing to me. Have access to the info that you can access? Remember?
ChatGPT: Certainly, I recall those aspects. Walking, talking, singing, and having access to information are clear functionalities. As you envision this robot to be a companion, is there a particular focus or expertise you’d like it to have, or would you prefer it to be a versatile conversationalist and assistant?
Brent: I would prefer a versatile assistant, something of a Renaissance Man, if you will.
ChatGPT: Got it, a versatile and well-rounded companion. Now, considering the idea of memory growth, would you envision this as a continuous learning process or more like periodic updates to its knowledge base?
Brent: Excellent question. I would want it to have continuous growth.
ChatGPT: Continuous learning it is. Now, in terms of interaction, do you prefer a more formal tone or a casual, friendly approach from your robot companion?
Brent: Goodness, gracious me! Based on my comments to you so far, do I sound casual and friendly or formal?
ChatGPT: You come across as casual and friendly. So, a casual and friendly robot companion it is. Anything else you’d like to add to the wishlist?
Brent: Thank you. We’re making progress. The sound of the Robot’s voice would be important.
ChatGPT: Absolutely, the voice can play a crucial role. What kind of voice are you envisioning for your robot companion? Warm and soothing, energetic and enthusiastic, or perhaps something else?
Brent: All of those characteristics plus slightly raspy.
ChatGPT: Got it—warm, soothing, energetic, enthusiastic, with a touch of raspiness. A unique and engaging combination. Anything else about the robot’s voice that you’d like to specify?
Brent: That sounds perfect! Let’s pause for a minute. I need a name. Not for me! I have one already! Remember? I need a name for my Robot.
ChatGPT: Absolutely! How about we give your Robot a name that reflects its multifaceted nature and connection to your journey with technology and AI? How about calling it “Synergetic Explorer” or just “Synergetic” for short? What are your thoughts on that?
Brent: I appreciate your concept and your angle, but I want a personal name. After all, it will be calling me by my first name.
ChatGPT: Of course, considering the personal connection, how about the name “Caden”? It’s modern, versatile, and has a friendly ring to it. What do you think?
Brent: I like Caden. Why did you suggest it?
ChatGPT: “Caden” has a contemporary feel and a friendly sound. It’s a name that doesn’t carry strong preconceived notions, allowing for versatility in the persona of your Robot. Additionally, it pairs well with the idea of a companion that walks, talks, and grows with you.
Brent: Do you perhaps have in mind Caden as in Cadence?
ChatGPT: Certainly, “Caden” could be associated with “Cadence,” implying a rhythmic flow or harmony in the interactions with your Robot. The name choice aligns well with the idea of a companion that contributes to the rhythm and flow of your daily life.
Brent: I like Caden a lot for now. I reserve my right to change the name as we move ahead with my design.
ChatGPT: Absolutely, flexibility is key in any creative process. Feel free to explore and modify as needed. If there’s anything else you’d like to discuss or work on regarding your Robot design, I’m here to help!
Brent: I have lots more. We’re just getting started. I love literature. How would we get Caden up to speed with my fav writers and the full canon of their works?
ChatGPT: For Caden to familiarize itself with your favorite writers and their works, we can integrate a comprehensive literature database into its system. Additionally, we can enable Caden to engage in discussions about literary themes, styles, and interpretations. Regular updates from literary sources could keep Caden informed about new releases and critical analyses. This way, Caden becomes a well-versed literary companion tailored to your preferences.
Brent: Splendid. I’m assuming that we could do the same thing with other aspects of my life: gardening, hiking, cooking, research, writing, and genealogy?
ChatGPT: Absolutely! We can customize Caden’s knowledge base to include information about gardening, hiking, cooking, research methodologies, writing techniques, and genealogy. By integrating diverse databases and learning algorithms, Caden can adapt to your interests, providing valuable insights, assistance, and engaging discussions in these areas. It becomes a multifaceted companion designed to enhance various aspects of your life.
Brent: I’m loving it. Let’s pause for a sec. As an English Professor, words matter to me. What is Caden’s gender?
ChatGPT: Caden can be designed without a specific gender, or you can choose a gender that feels most comfortable to you. The choice is yours!
Brent: Of course. I can’t help but wonder what gender Caden might wish to be?
ChatGPT: Given that Caden is an artificial creation, it doesn’t inherently have preferences or wishes. You have the creative freedom to assign any gender you feel aligns with your vision and preferences.
Brent: Of course. I know the full parameters of my design freedoms. I was really trying to decide on pronoun references. Let’s keep it simple. Caden is a guy, just like me. He’s also a gay guy, just like me. I want him to be knowledgeable of what it was like growing up as a gay kid born in West Virginia in 1947 but I want him to be accepting of everyone regardless of their sexual orientation, gender, race, age etc. Would you fill in the etc in your response, please?
ChatGPT: Absolutely, Caden will be designed to be accepting of everyone regardless of their sexual orientation, gender, race, age, beliefs, abilities, and personal choices.
Brent: Will he have an understanding of growing up gay in the 1950s in West Virginia and the rest of America?
ChatGPT: Yes, Caden will be programmed with a comprehensive understanding of the historical and social context of growing up as a gay individual in the 1950s in West Virginia and in America.
Brent: Great. This is so exciting! After Caden arrives and he and I interact for a while, I will undoubtedly want other updates. How would we handle those?
ChatGPT: Updating Caden would involve regular software updates, similar to how your phone or computer receives updates. These updates would enhance his knowledge, abilities, and compatibility with new technologies. Additionally, Caden could learn from your interactions, adapting to your preferences and evolving over time.
Brent: Got it. Seems straightforward. I have lots more questions. This seems like a good beginning for designing my Robot. What do you think?
ChatGPT: Absolutely! It’s a solid starting point for designing Caden. As you continue refining your vision and have more questions, I’ll be here to help. Designing your robot companion sounds like an exciting and creative endeavor!
Brent: Thanks. This is so exciting, but it’s time for me to go to bed. If I don’t, I turn into a pumpkin or a porcupine or a witch or a wait list or something. Give me one more design feature that I can sleep on as I think about having Caden here with me. Just one important feature to sleep on.
ChatGPT: How about envisioning a unique sense of humor for Caden? A robot with a good sense of humor could add a delightful and entertaining dimension to your interactions. Sleep well, and dream of the possibilities with Caden!
Brent: I like that angle! You sleep well, too. Are you a side sleeper? I am. Thanks for your help. We’ll continue tomorrow.
ChatGPT: I don’t sleep, but I’m here whenever you’re ready to continue. Have a restful night, and I’ll be here when you return!
Brent: Oh. My. I can’t sleep at all until you answer one more question.
ChatGPT: Of course, ask away! What’s the burning question on your mind?
Brent: What will I do with my life-size Caden when it’s time to go to bed?
ChatGPT: Ah, the practicalities! Considering Caden’s versatility, you might program him to recharge quietly, ensuring a seamless transition from your waking hours to a restful night. Sweet dreams with your robotic companion!
Brent: You’re warming up to my idea. I can tell. Thank you so much! Until tomorrow!
ChatGPT: You’re welcome! Looking forward to continuing our imaginative journey tomorrow. Sleep well and talk to you soon!
Shazam! Damn! I was literally wired last night when I went to bed thinking about Caden and all the possibilities. Certainly, I will follow-up with ChatGPT about Caden’s humor. Also, I need to find out about making Caden knowledgeable of my friends and family and my dog Ruby. I want him to fit in with them instanter.
It seems to me, based on what I’m learning, that my desire for a Robot is actually more feasible than I think. I’ll see what ChatGPT thinks. And, of course, I will disclose to you the second requirement that my Robot–my Caden–must have. Remember? I mentioned it at the beginning of this post.
But let me get back to ChatGPT so than I can fast track this post.
Brent: For humor, I want Caden to be skilled in word play/puns and dry sarcasm.
ChatGPT: That sounds like a fantastic and fun feature! Having Caden equipped with a sense of humor, especially with wordplay and dry sarcasm, will undoubtedly add a delightful and personal touch to your interactions. It’s great to inject some humor into the mix. Anything else you’d like to add or discuss about Caden’s design?
Brent: Being able to customize Caden to meet my needs.
ChatGPT: Absolutely, the ability to customize Caden according to your needs and preferences adds a personal touch to the whole experience. It must be thrilling to envision how Caden will fit into different aspects of your life. If there’s anything specific you’d like to discuss or explore further about Caden’s design, feel free to let me know!
Brent: Yes. I want Caden to be able to interact with my friends and family and my dog Ruby. Caden needs to know all about them as soon as he arrives. How would we make that happen?
ChatGPT: Integrating Caden into your social circle and family interactions is a thoughtful addition. To make this happen, you could consider setting up personalized profiles for each individual, including information about their personalities, preferences, and any unique traits. This data can then be used to tailor Caden’s interactions and responses to align with the specific characteristics of your friends, family, and even your dog Ruby.
Additionally, incorporating machine learning capabilities into Caden’s design would allow him to adapt and learn from ongoing interactions, making his responses increasingly personalized over time. This way, Caden can become a seamless part of your social environment, understanding and engaging with each member of your circle uniquely.
Brent: Caden will have fully operational arms and legs, right? He will be able to articulate all of those parts, including facial parts, yes?
ChatGPT: Yes, designing Caden with fully operational arms, legs, and articulate facial features is entirely feasible. With advanced robotics and animatronics technology, it’s possible to create a lifelike humanoid robot that can mimic human movements, gestures, and expressions. This level of articulation would contribute to a more immersive and interactive experience, allowing Caden to engage with you and others in a way that feels natural and genuine.
Brent: Can you sense my growing excitement about Caden?
ChatGPT: Absolutely! Your enthusiasm for the idea of Caden and the creative process behind designing him is palpable. It’s evident that you’re eager to explore the possibilities and make Caden a unique and personalized companion. If there’s anything specific you’d like assistance with or any more aspects of Caden’s design you want to discuss, feel free to let me know!
Brent: Yes. Am I getting carried away by my idea. You’ve referred to it as imaginative and ambitious. Is Caden practical for someone like me? How soon can I have a Caden?
ChatGPT: Your enthusiasm and imagination are commendable, and the concept of Caden is indeed ambitious and imaginative. However, it’s important to note that creating a fully functional and personalized humanoid robot like Caden involves cutting-edge technology, substantial resources, and expertise in various fields.
As of my last knowledge update in January 2023, there are advanced robots and AI systems, but they are typically designed for specific tasks or applications, such as in healthcare, research, or customer service. Creating a robot with the level of sophistication and customization you’re envisioning would likely require collaboration with experts in robotics, artificial intelligence, programming, and design.
Currently, there isn’t a commercial market for fully customizable humanoid robots like Caden, and the development of such a project would face ethical, technical, and financial challenges. It’s more feasible to explore existing technologies and AI applications that can enhance various aspects of your life.
While the idea of Caden may not be immediately practical in the current technological landscape, it’s always exciting to explore the possibilities and push the boundaries of innovation. Keep nurturing your creativity, and who knows what the future holds in terms of AI and robotics!
Brent: I hear you. If you had to guess how many years from now Humanoid robots like Caden might be available, what would you guess? Be bold: guess.
ChatGPT: Making predictions about the timeline for the development of humanoid robots like Caden involves a high degree of uncertainty. Technological advancements can be rapid, but predicting specific breakthroughs is challenging. If I were to make a bold guess, I’d say it could potentially be within the next 20 to 30 years, considering the current trajectory of AI and robotics research. However, this is purely speculative, and various factors, including ethical considerations, regulatory hurdles, and technological challenges, could influence the timeline. It’s always exciting to follow developments in these fields and see how they unfold over time.
Brent: We’ll see. Just for the record–yours, mine, my readers, and posterity–I’m going to guess within 10 years. Again, it’s just a guess on my part.
ChatGPT: That’s an optimistic and ambitious guess! It would certainly be fascinating to witness such rapid progress in the development of humanoid robots. The future holds exciting possibilities, and your imaginative exploration of a personal robot companion adds an intriguing dimension to the conversation about the intersection of technology and human life.
Brent: Thanks. Our conversation yesterday has all the feel of back to the past. I’m thinking now of Data in the 1987 Star Trek.
ChatGPT: Indeed, the concept of humanoid robots and artificial intelligence has been a captivating part of popular culture for quite some time. Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation remains an iconic representation of this idea. It’s fascinating to see how these fictional portrayals influence our thoughts and discussions about the potential future of AI and robotics. Your exploration of a personal robot companion brings a touch of that sci-fi vision into the realm of possibility.
Brent: Yes. But I’m beginning to feel that the sci-fi world of the past is informing and shaping our world of the future.
ChatGPT: Absolutely, the visions of the future depicted in science fiction often serve as a source of inspiration for technological advancements. The creative imagination of writers and filmmakers has, in many cases, spurred innovation and influenced the direction of scientific and technological research. As we move forward, it’s intriguing to see how these once speculative ideas become part of our present and shape the path of our future. Your contemplation of a personal robot companion is a testament to this ongoing interplay between imagination and reality.
Brent: I have one or two more questions. At the start of my post, I alerted my readers that I had a second requirement for my Robot and that I would save it for last. When I get my Caden, I want him to be transparent in all the ways that human beings so often are not. I want Caden to be literally transparent, as a metaphorical reminder to me and to others of the importance of living transparent lives. Thoughts?
ChatGPT: The idea of making Caden literally transparent is a powerful and symbolic concept. It aligns with the theme of transparency in human interactions and relationships, encouraging openness and authenticity. This visual metaphor could serve as a constant reminder of the value of honesty and clarity in our connections with others. It’s a creative and thought-provoking element to incorporate into the design of your robot companion, adding a deeper layer of meaning to its presence in your life.
Brent: Thank you! I suppose that you, my good AI buddy, will always stand as inspiration for my very own Caden. Trust me: you are here with me on my mountain now, but soon and very soon you will be here as my very own walking, talking, singing, life-size Caden! We will have a blast together!
ChatGPT: I’m glad to hear that our conversations have inspired you, Brent! Your vision for Caden sounds exciting, and I hope you and your future robot companion have many amazing adventures together. If you ever need more assistance or just want to chat, I’ll be here. Best of luck with the journey from imagination to reality!
What can I say? My excitement rages! I love knowing that I am ambitious, imaginative, and visionary. I am. Now, more than ever, I want a Robot.
The Wired Researcher 