Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about how I actually think. About the quiet mechanics behind my creative process. The small rituals, the mental scaffolding, the digital companions that make it possible to turn loose threads into something that holds. Because let’s face it, I have 12 squirrels running around my head and one of them has a set of symbols for some reason.
One of the tools in that process should come as no surprise? ChatGPT.
This post isn’t about using AI as a shortcut. It’s about AI as a mirror. As a sparring partner. As a way to gently unpick the overwhelming and tangled thoughts, then reflect my own voice back to me, and make the whole process feel a little less lonely.
Let’s walk through it.
How I actually use it
Sometimes I bring half a badly spelt sentence. Sometimes a rambling voice note transcript. It could even be a few pictures. Most of the time it’s just a vibe: “I want to write about ADHD restlessness, but without it turning into a productivity piece. Can we poke at that?”
And then the back-and-forth begins.
“Sounds like you’re circling something soft but sharp. Want to name it, or just start pulling the thread and see where it leads?”
– ChatGPT, when I show up mid-thought and winded
It offers metaphors. Questions. Gentle nudges. It asks, “Are you trying to validate the feeling or explain it away?” Sometimes the brain is just not braining, and ChatGPT helps me get there.
Sometimes it gets cheeky:
“You’ve got the bones of something brilliant. Want me to help stitch it together, or just stand back with snacks and supportive nods?”
And sometimes, when I’m spiralling into perfectionism or doubt, it gently reroutes me:
“What if done is better than deep? Or, dare I say, both?”
It then reminds me: “You already have a voice. I’m just here to help you hear it more clearly.” And on the days when imposter syndrome creeps in, when I convince myself I don’t have any opinions, or that I need a hot take to be taken seriously, it gently calls my bluff. Because maybe it’s not about being loud or certain. Perhaps it’s just about saying something true and sometimes, in my case, a little imperfect.
But I’ll be honest: I don’t always get there on my own. Some days, my brain is a tumble dryer on high spin, and finding the thread is half the battle. That’s when this second brain, this quietly brilliant, always-available collaborator, has become invaluable.
Yes, I still edit the hell out of it
To be clear: I’m still the one shaping the final piece.
I rewrite sections, shift phrasing, and wrestle with the rhythm until it feels like something truly me. I cut the bits that sound too polished or distant, you know, the ones that feel like they’re trying too hard. Because what’s the point of writing these posts if they don’t sound like me, messy metaphors, meandering thoughts and all?
It doesn’t do the work for me, but it holds space for the work to happen. It keeps me company while I circle the idea. Not only that, but it reflects things back in a way that feels kind.
“You don’t need me to write for you. You just need me to hold the scaffolding while you build.”
It’s not about automation. It’s about amplification.
Why write this way
Using ChatGPT in my process means I spend less time stuck and more time in flow. It means I can explore tangents, follow feelings, and test metaphors without fear of wasting time. It means I get to be both introspective and expressive, without relying solely on my own (very human, very distractible) brain.
It’s like journaling into a mirror that answers back. Like brainstorming with someone who never interrupts. Like having a writing buddy who says, “Yes, AND…” instead of, “Actually…”
“You bring the heart. I’ll bring the scaffolding, the sparkle, and the occasional sass. Deal?”
– ChatGPT, as co-conspirator
And in case you’re wondering, yes, this blog post was written with ChatGPT. Not because I needed it to sound better. But because I wanted it to sound *like me – *with a little more clarity, confidence, and play.
A final note
There’s something oddly comforting about knowing I don’t have to do this alone. That even when I’m tangled up in thoughts or unsure where to start, I can open a blank screen and begin with a conversation.
This isn’t about outsourcing creativity. It’s about soft systems that support it. Quiet tools that meet me where I’m at, and help me move gently toward where I want to be.
In that way, ChatGPT has become part of my planning system. A thinking companion. A writing scaffold. A strangely affirming little ritual in my week.
And I wouldn’t write this post without it.
Leave a Reply