Allison the Wordsmith

Freelancer tip: When taking on a proofreading job, always check to see whether the work involves math.

So you is!

Nothing compares 2 her

Sinéad O’Connor, acclaimed Dublin singer, dies aged 56 The Irish musician found worldwide fame with hit single Nothing Compares 2 U in 1990

Should've made a roux first. A plot roux. ...a ploux.

Follow me for more news you can use.

Very, very important. A couple highlights:

"But the technology can also blend fact with fiction and even make up information, a phenomenon that scientists call 'hallucination.'"

and

“'While the technology is moving swiftly, we already can see several risks.'” Yes indeedy.

F.T.C. Opens Investigation Into ChatGPT Maker Over Technology’s Potential Harms The agency sent OpenAI, which makes ChatGPT, a letter this week over consumer harms and the company’s security practices.

Damnation: Because "technically correct" is the best kind of correct.™️

...but your pantaloons are on point, so...you've got that going for you...

Never get involved in a land war in Asia, and never put a skunk on a bus.

I love discovering new woman (and woman-presenting) artists and writers. Here's one of my new Instagram faves.

This is a song I wrote called Clear Skies! (Just a snippet for now!) #indiefolk #acousticguitar #noahkahan #singersongwriter #music #indie #bigtheif #adriennelenker

Lea and Perrins are my favorite novelists.

Poetry is hard.

You can do it, little weirdo!

Kids, this is why you always keep the receipts from major purchases.

“I’m much more worried about the possibility of us reverting to where AI is.”

My annual Mother’s Day wish for every human out there:

To those whose wonderful moms have gone from this earth;
To those who survived terrible moms and are better for it;
To those who want to be moms but must overcome seemingly insurmountable barriers;
To those who are moms to children no longer living;
To those who chose not to become moms and are made to feel “less than” because of it;
To those who have the daily joys and struggles of being moms to children, both human and furry;
I wish you a happy Mother’s Day, whatever that looks like for you.
And I want you to remember:
You are enough.

By one of my favorite writers.

Make today the day your soul needs stretchy pants.

Recently, my soul slipped out of my body so it could finally sit down and speak to me face to face.

I was surprised how thin my soul appeared now that I could actually look at it with my eyes. It was so much skinnier than I ever thought it would be.

"Why aren't you feeding me?" my soul asked

I could tell it was struggling to maintain its illuminated outline. My soul flickered like a fading truck stop bathroom light.

"I am," I replied. "Don't you remember last week when I let us watch that little self-guided meditation on YouTube that was about how to maintain a positive attitude or something?"

To be honest, I couldn't quite remember what it was that I had watched - because I had fallen asleep about 45 seconds into the video.

My soul sighed.

“That’s not enough for me to keep my light blazing. What you have been giving me are crumbs. What I need is a banquet of beauty and wonder to feast on. I require a sprawling clambake of miracles and revelation to maintain my connection to Creation. I am starving for a fat spread of delicious marvel and decadent awe,” my Soul went on to say.

“Wow, I didn’t know you were such a diva,” I snapped.

“I’m not a diva. I’m malnourished,” it said to me while beginning to flicker.

My frown touched my kneecaps.

“What can I do to feed you right now?” I asked.

My soul pointed toward the door.

“Let’s go outside. The way the light moves through the trees in the late day is one of my favorite meals.”

I nodded my head and opened the door and we went on to gorge ourselves under the resurrecting May light like it was a chocolate fountain.

It was a harvest of blessings.

“Thank you,” my glowing soul burped up to me through my veins. “This is exactly what I needed.”

“Of course,” I replied. “I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll give you a huge picnic every day.”

My soul hugged my bones tightly and said “Well, then I guess I better go shopping.”

“Shopping? For what?” I asked.

“For some stretchy pants.”

~ john roedel

Everything was peachy until Gandalf reclassified the Fellowship as independent contractors.

I SAID THERE'S NO TIME

Hester Prynne: The ultimate academic.

What's that on your face,
Allison

Just gonna put this right here...

I've known John Roedel - A short writer. all my life. And I know that, like me, a lot of you follow and admire his beautiful, funny, heartbreaking, awe-inspiring work. But being a poet isn't the most lucrative job on earth, so I just bought him a few cups of tea.

I'm posting this here in case you'd like to do the same. 💙

John Roedel is translating the drawings he discovered on the cave walls of his heart. Hello! I'm an accidental poet who spends his time looking for angels and listening to the wind. I am trying to be a blessing to this world.

Most people, upon hearing I'm a writer, assume I'm a novelist. And although I do have a fiction manuscript stuffed away in a virtual drawer somewhere, nonfiction writing is my bread and butter--and I love it just as much.

I especially love the challenge of treating highly technical and complicated subjects in engaging, accessible ways for a broader audience.

And when I get to write about award-winning projects that beautify urban areas, bring communities together, and benefit the environment, so much the better!

Green infrastructure and stacked-benefits projects Imagine that you need to manage stormwater, beautify a space, and create a place where the neighborhood can meet and play—but you only have a tiny scrap of land available. How do you choose what to do with it? According to landscape architect Marcy Bean and water resources engineer Nathan Campeau,...

PSA: Whenever you get discouraged about your ability with words, simply remember that I, a professional writer, just spent 10 minutes trying to remember the word for the animal below, and "pointy desert crab" just wasn't cutting it.

"No, Mr. Bond; I expect you to disengage the rope from that pulley, deflect the laser, have a gas mask handy, and make friends with my sharks."

My talented and insightful friend, the poet John Roedel of Hey God. Hey John., makes a thought-provoking contribution to the conversation about AI in art.

I echo his summation: "Bring it on, robots."

Dear fellow artists/writers/creatives,

Today, during an online workshop, I was asked if I was worried about the rising use of artificial intelligence to “create” poetry or art?

Aside from the very questionable attribution ethics of where these AI programs are sourcing/obtaining/pickpocketing the content it produces my answer is:

Hell no.

For me, the advent of AI generated art has actually inspired me to write more fearlessly.

I feel challenged to string together the most heartfelt words possible to ensure that there is a clear distinction between my work and anything a supercomputer program can produce.

My poetry will never be precise or polished - but it will be fully human. My typos, imperfections and the uneven emotional energy of my work will be my watermark.

Yes, are there some pretty cool AI tools that we can use to help further our art. We just can’t concede our creativity to a string of complex code all in the name of convenience.

As artists, we must keep doing the work of our lives. We must keep digging in the soil of our soul. We must keep exploring our humanity. We must remain committed to expressing ourselves with unafraid authenticity.

We will remain relevant as creatives by working even harder at our craft. Don’t be discouraged by all of these fancy innovations. Be inspired to create something so beautiful that it will even cause a computer to gasp.

These are weird days for us. Lean into you art even harder. Don’t surrender your passion to these modern whirling wolves in Shakespeare clothing.

So, in synopsis:

Bring it on, robots.

(Photo by Jem Sahagun)

See also: What did they call a group of fish before humanity invented schools?

Out of sheer necessity, I have recently had to learn a lot about AI in general and ChatGPT in particular. I do acknowledge that it has some practical applications that might make it easier for some folks to do their jobs. And there are the obvious concerns about the possibility of this technology not only making creators (writers, poets, visual artists, etc.) obselete, but appropriating their work in order to do so.

But there are layers beneath even these concerns that we need to consider before we use AI to create anything, even "just for fun:" the mental and physical health, safety, and financial security of the people who make this technology possible.

If you decide to use AI, know that some of your fellow human beings had to look at horrifying photos and read wildly disturbing passages of text--for paltry wages--in order to make it safe for you to do so.

To borrow a phrase from Jurassic Park, "Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should."

Exclusive: The $2 Per Hour Workers Who Made ChatGPT Safer A TIME investigation reveals the difficult conditions faced by the workers who made ChatGPT possible

My apologies and thanks to the random people in theater lobbies and grocery store lines in Cheyenne, WY who bought my book after my mom pulled a copy out of her purse and wouldn't stop talking about it until the lights blinked or the chicken hit the bar code reader.

When you name your kid Pandora and are slightly underprepared for the consequences...

I laughed unreasonably hard at this. Happy Friday, Word Nerds.

When you're a spirit speaking from beyond the veil but you forgot to unmute yourself...

Truly a sin of omission.

Been having a string of sad little potato days myself, so this came at just the right time. If you are a sad little potato sometimes, you're not alone.

Then I pulled a lone pencil out of my severe bun and my hair fell silkily around my shoulders in slow motion. Sorry, gents. You were right all along.