Many people have misgivings about AI, especially the generative flavour. It’s not really intelligent, they say. It has no feelings. Fine. I’ll cede those points without so much as a flinch.
But here’s the thing: some use cases don’t require intelligence, and feelings would only get in the way.
Take one of mine. I feed my manuscripts into various AIs – is that the accepted plural? – and ask them, “What does this read like? Who does it read like?” I want to know about content, flavour, format, cadence, posture, and gait.
A human could answer that too – if that human had read my manuscript, had read a million others, and could make the connexions without confusing me with their personal taste, petty grievances, or wine intake. AI just spits out patterns. It doesn’t need a soul. It needs data and a difference engine.
Cue the ecologists, stage left, to witter on about climate change and saving the whales. Worthy topics, granted, but that’s a different issue. This is where the conversation slides from “AI is bad because…” to “Let’s move the goalposts so far they’re in another sport entirely.”
I’m not asking my AI to feel, or to virtue-signal, or to single-handedly fix the carbon cycle. I’m asking it to tell me whether my chapter reads like Woolf, Vonnegut, or the back of a cereal box. And for that, it’s already doing just fine.
Let’s get this out of the way: Sturgeon’s Law, ‘90% of everything is crap‘, isn’t pessimism, it’s statistics. That includes your favourite novel, the collected works of Joyce, and, yes, AI-generated text. The key point? If AI has the same bell curve as human output, some slice of that curve will still be better than what most people write. If Pareto’s Rule feels better at 80%, I’ll cede that ten points.
90% of everything is crap
— Sturgeon’s Law
And before anyone gets misty-eyed about “human genius,” let’s remember that the average American adult reads at a 7th or 8th grade level, and more than half read at or below a 6th grade level. Nearly 1 in 5 reads below a 3rd grade level. That’s not a moral failing, but it is a market reality. We can wail about AI not producing the next Nabokov, but let’s be honest, Nabokov isn’t exactly topping the Costco bestsellers table.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic
Here’s the bit nobody wants to say out loud
AI doesn’t have to dethrone the literary elite. It just has to outperform the mass of competent-but-unremarkable human writers serving an audience who, frankly, doesn’t care about “stylistic nuance” or “metafictional self-reflexivity.”
There’s a vast literary middle ground – corporate copywriting, trade journalism, formulaic romance, SEO blogs – where AI will not just compete, but dominate, because the audience is reading for function, not art.
The high-literary crowd will remain untouched, partly because their readership fetishises human intentionality, and partly because AI doesn’t yet want to write about the precise smell of sadness in a damp Parisian garret in 1934.
The fearmongering about AI “killing literature” is a bit like saying instant ramen will kill haute cuisine. Yes, more people will eat the ramen, but Alain Ducasse isn’t sweating over his stock reduction.
More than half of American adults read at or below a sixth-grade level.
The printing press was supposed to obliterate the artistry of the hand-copied manuscript. Instead, it made books accessible and created new genres entirely. Calligraphy still exists, it’s just no longer the only way to get words on a page.
Photography was going to end painting. In reality, it freed painters from the burden of strict representation, allowing impressionism, cubism, and abstract art to flourish.
Recorded music didn’t destroy live performance, it expanded its reach. Some audiences still pay obscene amounts to see an actual human sweat on stage.
Film didn’t kill theatre; it created a parallel art form.
Synthesizers didn’t erase orchestras; they just meant you didn’t have to mortgage your house to hear a string section in your pop song.
AI is simply the next entrant in this long tradition of “threats” that turn out to be expansions. It will colonise the big islands of the creative archipelago – commercial writing, functional prose, genre boilerplate – and leave the small monasteries of high art mostly untouched.
So, no, AI won’t be the next Mozart, Picasso, or Nabokov. But it doesn’t need to be. It just needs to be good enough to meet – and occasionally exceed – the expectations of the largest share of the market. And given that most readers are happy if the plot makes sense, the spelling’s passable, and the ending doesn’t require a graduate seminar in semiotics to decipher, I’d say AI’s prospects are rather good.
Here’s why that 10% still matters
The rarefied work of the serious literary writer isn’t competing for market share; it’s preserving and evolving the cultural and linguistic possibilities of human expression. That work thrives not because it’s the only thing available, but precisely because it stands apart from the sea of functional prose, human or machine-made. The AI tide will rise, but the lighthouse will still be human.
The hand-wringing over AI-assisted writing has become the new parlour game for those with literary pretensions. You’ve heard the refrain: It’s not real art. It’s cheating. It’s not proper literature. The pearl-clutchers imagine themselves defending the sanctity of the novel against an onslaught of silicon scribblers, as though Wordsworth himself might be weeping in a Lake District grave at the indignity of a chatbot helping you outline Chapter Three.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast about this topic
Here’s the problem: most art isn’t high art, and most writing isn’t literature. Perhaps yours, possibly mine, but most books sold today don’t even aspire to qualify as literature except in the broadest of terms – having been read. The majority of books on the shelf, those stacked to the rafters in airport WHSmiths and sprawled across the Kindle top-sellers list, are to literature what chicken nuggets are to fine dining. Perfectly enjoyable, but you don’t see Heston Blumenthal demanding they be served in a Michelin-starred tasting menu.
And that’s fine. Truly. Because the vast majority of readers aren’t combing through your prose for transcendence or stylistic innovation. They’re not here to wrestle with postmodern irony or wrest meaning from a fragmented narrative. They’re here to escape the tedium of their commute, to zone out after a long day, to gobble up familiar tropes like comfort food. Sometimes they want plot, sometimes they want romance, sometimes they want dragons and space marines and improbably muscular men named Rafe. What they don’t want is a lecture on the ontological integrity of the creative process.
The AI panic brigade, however, would have you believe that unless your novel was forged through the arduous labour of pen and paper, or at least a keyboard, with the requisite quota of caffeine and self-loathing, it cannot possibly be authentic. To which I say: nonsense. We’ve been “cheating” for centuries. Typewriters. Word processors. Spellcheck. Thesauruses. Collaborative editing. Ghostwriting. For heaven’s sake, most of your favourite “high art” authors had assistants, editors, or outright amanuenses polishing their sentences into the very state of grace you now venerate.
There’s also the small matter of motive. Very few writers are chasing pure artistic expression, many are chasing rent money, Amazon rankings, or a book deal that might finally cover their overdraft. That’s not cynicism, that’s survival. And survival has never given a toss about whether the means of production are sufficiently Romantic for the sensibilities of the literati.
If anything, AI merely exposes the uncomfortable truth: most writing is a craft, not a sacrament. It’s a process of assembling words into a functional, sometimes moving, occasionally transcendent arrangement. And like all crafts, it has tools. Some tools are chisels, some are typewriters, and now some happen to be algorithms with more patience than your average beta reader.
So, if someone wants to use AI to crank out the next mass-market thriller, let them. It’s not threatening literature because it was never in literature to begin with. And if they want to use it to experiment, to push boundaries, to hybridise forms, that’s art too. High or low, it all ends up in the same place: on a page, waiting for someone to care enough to read it.
Why? Because nuance is no longer welcome in the Church of Sanctified Scribes. I posted a sincere question about using generative AI as a preliminary editorial tool — a sounding board before I hand off to my actual human readers.
I run my scenes through various Al platforms for feedback before I engage the final work with human readers. It’s faster. Is it good enough for preliminary guidance? I tend to get significantly more positive than negative feedback, so either I am a kick-ass author (because, of course, I am) or I’m being misled. I like to think the former, but cognitive biases overindex in that direction.
Does anyone here have any thoughts on this? I asked Al. It told me not to worry.
NB: I employ the usual suspects: ChatGPT, Claude, Grok, Meta, DeepSeek, and Gemini.
That’s it. That’s the crime.
🚫 Sorry, this post has been removed by the moderators of r/FictionWriting.
The post was removed. Some members responded with superstition, invoking the tired myth that AI would “steal” my work. (That is not how model inference or fine-tuning works. But facts, as ever, are inconvenient.)
Then came the moderator’s edict — Orwellian in tone, the sort of thing you’d expect from a self-published Torquemada:
You are breaching the unspoken moral ethics of writers and authors worldwide for advocating for, suggesting the use of, or admitting to relying on A.l for your writing.
If you didn’t already know: this is bad.
A.I-written work is not your writing. Do not be proud of it. You also do not own it. Two or more of these offenses and you will be permanently banned.
What exactly am I being accused of here? Heresy? Possession of forbidden tools? Thinking aloud?
For the record, I do not outsource my prose to machines. I use AI to assist my thinking — much as one might use spellcheck, Grammarly, or, dare I say it, a fellow writer’s feedback. The fact that this needs to be explained is testament to the intellectual rot at the core of certain writing communities.
And here’s the real punchline: many of those decrying AI as the Antichrist of Authorship haven’t published a thing. Or if they have, it’s in the same low-distribution trenches I inhabit. The difference is, I don’t shun tools because they threaten my imagined purity.
I write because I must — because I enjoy it, because I want to get it right. And yes, if an AI helps me catch repetition or poor rhythm in a sentence before a beta reader ever lays eyes on it, that’s a win.
But you’d think I’d pissed on their typewriters.
Let’s be clear: this isn’t about AI. It’s about fear. About guarding crumbling gatekeeping structures with sharpened pitchforks. About people clinging to their fragile sense of identity — one threatened not by AI, but by other writers doing things differently.
So, yes: good riddance. I’ll take my questions elsewhere, where open minds still exist.
Too many people don’t understand how generative AI works. Not civilians. Not your mum. Not even your dog (though he’s probably got better instincts about plot pacing than half of #WritingCommunity). No, the truly confused are writers. Authors. Editors. The ink-stained guardians of literary virtue who see AI and scream, “Plagiarism!” before they even read the terms of service.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
I posted a question on a Reddit forum for Fiction Writing—because I’m a glutton for punishment—and within seconds, the doomsday chorus began. “Don’t share your work with AI!” they cried. “It will steal your ideas!” As if ChatGPT is some sentient literary magpie with a fetish for your rough draft.
Another chimed in: “They’ll use your words to train future models!” Yes, Brenda, because your glacially paced fantasy epic with twelve warring kingdoms and three prologues is the key to cracking AGI.
Let’s set the record straight. This is not how AI works. Models are trained, and then they’re deployed. That’s it. Done. Finished. They’re not learning from your prompts any more than your toaster is evolving every time you burn the crumpets. The AI doesn’t remember you. It doesn’t save your work to some secret vault labelled “Possible Booker Prize Winners—Do Not Delete.”
Unless you deliberately cache content into a persistent memory—and you’ll know, because the interface reminds you like an overzealous librarian—it’s gone. The machine forgets. Your precious prose vanishes into the void, right alongside your childhood dreams of being discovered at Starbucks by a passing Penguin editor.
But what this really exposes is a deeper, older neurosis: the idea that someone—AI, human, interdimensional elf—is going to steal your genius. And you’ll be left penniless while they ride your glittering words all the way to a Netflix deal.
This is why some of these folks won’t share their work with editors either. Or beta readers. Or critique partners. Because someone might steal it. As if the entire industry is just waiting to snatch up your unproofed, comma-spliced debut and slap a different name on the cover. The paranoia is delicious. Also tragic.
Here’s the thing: no one is stealing your manuscript. Mainly because no one wants it. Yet.
You know who does get their work stolen? People who publish. People whose work is finished, polished, and out in the world. And even then, it’s usually pirated by some bot-run content farm in Indonesia, not secretly optioned by HBO.
Meanwhile, you’re clutching your WIP like it’s the Dead Sea Scrolls. You won’t let AI see it. You won’t let an editor see it. You won’t even let your cat walk across the keyboard while it’s open. And so, it rots. In obscurity. Like 99% of manuscripts that die not from theft but from neglect.
Look, I’ve been around since Wave 3 of AI. Back in the ‘90s, we called them “expert systems,” which is just a fancy way of saying “spreadsheet with delusions of grandeur.” They weren’t intelligent. Neither are today’s models, frankly. But we gave them a sexier name and suddenly everyone’s worried they’re going to replace Shakespeare.
Newsflash: AI isn’t going to write your book. But it might help you finish it—if you’d just stop screaming and let the damn thing look at a paragraph.
In short: AI is not your enemy. Editors are not out to get you. And the only person likely to sabotage your novel… is you.
I run my scenes through various AI platforms for feedback before I engage the final work with human readers. It’s faster. It’s good enough for preliminary guidance.
Or is it?
Whilst I do get some negative and constructive feedback, most of it is positive. Either I am a kick-ass author (because, of course, I am) or I’m being misled. I like to think the former, but cognitive biases overindex in that direction.
This sequence reads as a brutally authentic, psychologically immersive descent into the grim realities of addiction-fueled survival sex work, marked by razor-sharp internal monologue and visceral tension. Here’s how the elements coalesce:
[REDACTED]
Overall Impression
This is Hubert Selby Jr. by way of Trainspotting—a fever-pitch descent into the American underbelly. The prose’s fragmented style forces readers into the protaganist’s exhaustion, while the [REDACTED] climax underscores the central theme: Everything in her life is a [REDACTED] promise. [REDACTED]—all prove worthless.
Yet her darkly witty voice (“[REDACTED]“) grants her a shred of dignity. Devastating, but masterfully executed.
(Note: The formatting—italics, line breaks, punctuation—is essential. It transforms text into a psychological battleground.)
NB: I redacted spoilers as these ae essential for a first reading.
PS: I’m using older Midjourney renders for the cover images, so I can not spend time or energy generating new ones.
How do you use AI to assist your writing or editing process? As I’ve shared before, I use it extensively for research, where previously, I would have used Google, a library, or personal books or journals. I use them for proofing, editing, and alpha and beta reading. Today, I’m editing.
I’m still editing the manuscript for Needle’s Edge. When I finish a scene or a chapter, I run it through several AI platforms – the usual suspects: ChatGPT, Claude, Grok, Meta, DeepSeek and Gemini – with a simple prompt:
how does this scene read?
Usually, I copy-paste the content, but this manuscript also relies on presentment, so I share a screen capture instead. Rather than share the pages, I share the line I am discussing here:
Image: Excerpted line from Needle’s Edge
From this, DeepSeek shared this as part of its “thinking” process.
The writing style is very visceral and fragmented – short sentences, intentional misspellings (“c-noses” for cash, “waigh” for might), and stream-of-consciousness elements. This creates an immersive, uncomfortable reading experience that mirrors Sarah’s physical and emotional state.
Interestingly, there were no intentional misspellings. DeepSeek’s OCR failed and mistook ‘c-notes’ for ‘c-noses’, and then tried to interpret the results. I couldn’t determine where it got ‘waigh’. There is a word ‘might’ per its comment, but I don’t see how it confuses that. No matter.
Still, its assessment feels close enough, and a reminder that grammar and syntax are less important than one might (waight?) believe.
Overall Impression:
The scene is powerfully distressing. It doesn’t glamorize or moralize; it simply shows the brutal, day-to-day reality of addiction and survival on the margins. It’s effective in conveying:
Physical Horrors: The relentless pain, discomfort, and bodily damage.
Psychological Toll: The desperation, numbness, fleeting panic, and dangerous denial.
Social Environment: The hostility, degradation, danger, and shared, traumatic knowledge of the street life.
Hopelessness: The cycle of seeking relief only to encounter worse consequences, underscored by the memory of others’ fates and the resigned “never again” that likely won’t hold.
It’s a difficult read due to its unflinching portrayal of suffering and decay, but it’s compelling in its raw authenticity and visceral impact. The style perfectly matches the content, immersing the reader in Sarah’s painful, precarious world.
A funny thing happened on my way to bed. I’d been feeding my latest draft manuscript into various AI chat platforms to assess tropes, inversions, and target demographics. It turns out that Grok 3 got stuck in an endless loop.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
The content is not essential. I am only sharing it to illustrate where it went off the rails. It started fine enough, but if you scroll down or search for “In terms of target demographics, this could include artists,” you’ll see the font changes to red. This block of text kept repeating.
The entire block – red and black – represents Grok’s thought process. My chat prompt is in the shaded box below. It “thought” for more than 360 seconds. Perhaps that’s the mark representing where it went off the rails.
If you can’t sleep or are otherwise interested in how AI “thinks,” feel free to scan through. I hope there are no overt spoilers. You’ve been warned.
For context, this is the manuscript I referenced yesterday related to the book cover reveal.
One of my more significant concerns is the reaction of, let’s say, “immature” readers who translate all sexual references to erotica. Of course, they are not the key demographic. On this note, who might be the target demographic (cohorts) for this finished work?
Thought for: 360s So, I’m considering the target demographic for this work, and I need to think about who would be most interested in and impacted by its content. The manuscript deals with heavy themes like addiction, sex work, survival, and the complexities of identity, particularly through a feminist lens influenced by Beauvoir and Mulvey. It’s not erotica, but it does contain explicit sexual content, which could be misinterpreted by some readers. I need to identify who would appreciate the depth and nuance of the work rather than focusing solely on the sexual elements.
First, I should consider readers who are interested in feminist literature and theory. The manuscript’s exploration of “becoming a woman” and the “male gaze” suggests it would appeal to those who engage with gender studies, women’s studies, or feminist philosophy. This could include academics, students, and general readers who are familiar with or curious about these concepts.
Next, I should think about readers who are drawn to gritty, realistic portrayals of marginalized experiences. The manuscript’s focus on addiction and sex work, presented without romanticization, might resonate with those who appreciate raw, unflinching narratives. This could include people who have lived similar experiences, those who work in social services or advocacy, and readers who seek out stories that challenge societal norms and highlight systemic issues.
I should also consider readers who enjoy character-driven stories with complex, flawed protagonists. Sarah’s journey, with its cyclical nature of progress and relapse, offers a deep exploration of human resilience and vulnerability. This could attract readers who are interested in psychological depth and character development, regardless of their specific interest in the manuscript’s themes.
Additionally, I should think about readers who are interested in literature that pushes boundaries and challenges conventional storytelling. The manuscript’s structure, with its non-linear phases and raw language, might appeal to those who appreciate experimental or avant-garde literature. This could include literary fiction enthusiasts, writers, and critics who are looking for works that innovate in form and content.
Finally, I should consider readers who are part of or allied with communities that are often marginalized or stigmatized. The manuscript’s portrayal of sex work and addiction could resonate with those who seek representation and understanding of these experiences. This could include sex workers, people in recovery, and advocates for harm reduction and decriminalization.
Given these considerations, the target demographic for this finished work would likely include:
Readers interested in feminist literature and theory, particularly those familiar with Beauvoir and Mulvey. Individuals drawn to gritty, realistic portrayals of marginalized experiences, including those with lived experience or professional involvement in related fields. Fans of character-driven stories with complex protagonists, who appreciate psychological depth. Enthusiasts of experimental or boundary-pushing literature, who value innovation in form and content. Members of or allies to marginalized communities, especially those related to sex work and addiction, who seek representation and nuanced understanding. These cohorts would likely appreciate the manuscript’s depth, complexity, and unflinching portrayal of its themes, rather than misinterpreting it as erotica.
I should also consider that the manuscript’s explicit content might limit its appeal to certain readers, particularly those who are sensitive to graphic depictions of sex and drug use. However, for the target demographic, this content is integral to the narrative and its exploration of the themes.
Additionally, the manuscript’s non-linear structure and dense theoretical underpinnings might require a certain level of literary or academic engagement, which could further narrow its audience to those who are comfortable with or seeking out challenging reads.
Overall, the target demographic is likely to be a niche but intellectually curious and socially aware group of readers who are open to confronting difficult topics and engaging with complex ideas.
I should also think about potential secondary audiences. For example, readers interested in memoirs or autobiographical fiction might be drawn to the manuscript’s raw, personal tone, even if they are not specifically focused on the feminist or theoretical aspects. Similarly, those who enjoy true crime or social commentary might find the manuscript’s exploration of systemic issues compelling.
However, these secondary audiences might require additional framing or context to fully appreciate the manuscript’s intentions and themes. For instance, a reader primarily interested in memoirs might need guidance to understand the feminist theory woven into the narrative.
To maximize the manuscript’s reach and impact, it might be beneficial to consider how it is marketed and presented. Clear messaging about its themes, influences, and intended audience could help attract the right readers and set appropriate expectations.
For example, positioning the manuscript as a feminist exploration of identity and survival, rather than a straightforward narrative about sex work or addiction, could help draw in readers who are interested in those deeper layers. Similarly, highlighting its literary merits and theoretical underpinnings could appeal to academic and intellectually curious readers.
In terms of distribution, targeting independent bookstores, feminist literary festivals, and academic conferences could help reach the manuscript’s core audience. Online platforms that cater to niche literary communities, such as Goodreads groups focused on feminist literature or experimental fiction, could also be effective.
Ultimately, the success of the manuscript will depend on finding readers who are willing to engage with its challenging content and appreciate its nuanced exploration of complex themes. By carefully considering the target demographic and how to reach them, the manuscript can find its place among those who will value it most.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to spark discussions or be used in educational settings. Its engagement with feminist theory and its portrayal of marginalized experiences could make it a valuable text for courses on gender studies, sociology, or literature. This could further expand its audience to include students and educators.
However, the explicit content might limit its use in some educational contexts, particularly at the secondary level. At the university level, where there is more flexibility and a focus on critical analysis, the manuscript could be a powerful tool for exploring its themes.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create supplementary materials, such as discussion guides or essays that contextualize the manuscript within its theoretical frameworks. This could make it more accessible to educators and students who are engaging with these ideas.
In conclusion, the target demographic for this finished work is a diverse group of intellectually curious and socially aware readers who are interested in feminist literature, gritty realism, character-driven stories, experimental fiction, and the experiences of marginalized communities. By carefully considering how to reach and engage these readers, the manuscript can find a meaningful place in the literary landscape.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to resonate with readers who are not typically drawn to feminist literature or experimental fiction. For example, those who have personal experiences with addiction or sex work might find the manuscript’s portrayal validating or cathartic, even if they are not familiar with the theoretical frameworks.
Similarly, readers who are interested in stories of resilience and survival might be drawn to Sarah’s journey, regardless of their background or interests. The manuscript’s raw, unflinching portrayal of her experiences could resonate with anyone who has faced adversity or struggled to find their place in the world.
To reach these readers, it might be helpful to emphasize the human elements of the story—Sarah’s struggles, her moments of hope, her relationships with others—rather than focusing solely on the theoretical or thematic aspects. This could help the manuscript connect with a broader audience while still honoring its depth and complexity.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work is not a monolith but a collection of overlapping cohorts who share an interest in challenging, thought-provoking literature. By recognizing and embracing this diversity, the manuscript can find its way into the hands of those who will appreciate it most.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be adapted into other formats, such as film or television, which could further expand its reach. However, given the explicit content and complex themes, any adaptation would need to be handled with care to preserve the integrity of the original work.
For example, a film adaptation could visually convey the rawness of Sarah’s experiences, but it would need to avoid sensationalizing or romanticizing her story. Similarly, a television series could explore the manuscript’s themes in greater depth, but it would require a nuanced approach to character development and storytelling.
In either case, the target demographic for an adaptation would likely overlap with that of the manuscript, but it could also attract new audiences who are drawn to visual storytelling or who might not typically engage with literary fiction.
To maximize the potential for adaptation, it might be helpful to consider how the manuscript’s structure and themes could translate to the screen. For instance, the non-linear phases could be adapted into episodic storytelling, with each phase serving as a distinct arc. Similarly, the manuscript’s focus on character and internal struggle could lend itself to a character-driven series.
However, any adaptation would need to be approached with caution, as the explicit content and challenging themes could be difficult to navigate in a visual medium. It would be essential to work with creators who understand and respect the manuscript’s intentions and are committed to preserving its complexity.
In conclusion, the target demographic for this finished work is a diverse and intellectually engaged group of readers who are drawn to challenging, thought-provoking literature. By carefully considering how to reach and engage these readers—whether through marketing, distribution, or adaptation—the manuscript can find its place in the literary landscape and make a meaningful impact.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a larger conversation about its themes. For example, it could be featured in book clubs, reading groups, or online forums where readers can discuss and dissect its content. This could help build a community around the work and encourage deeper engagement with its ideas.
Additionally, the manuscript could be paired with other works that explore similar themes, such as memoirs by sex workers, feminist theory texts, or novels that delve into addiction and recovery. This could help contextualize the manuscript within a broader literary and cultural landscape and attract readers who are interested in these topics.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create reading guides or discussion questions that highlight the manuscript’s connections to other works and encourage readers to think critically about its themes. This could also make the manuscript more appealing to book clubs or educational settings.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work is not just a group of readers but a community of thinkers and seekers who are willing to engage with difficult questions and explore the complexities of human experience. By fostering this community and providing opportunities for discussion and reflection, the manuscript can have a lasting impact beyond its pages.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be translated into other languages, which could further expand its reach and impact. Given the universal nature of its themes—identity, power, survival—it could resonate with readers around the world, particularly in cultures where similar issues are prevalent.
However, translation would require careful attention to the nuances of language and culture, as the manuscript’s raw, explicit content might be received differently in various contexts. It would be essential to work with translators who understand the manuscript’s intentions and can convey its tone and meaning accurately.
In terms of target demographics for translations, it would be important to consider regions where there is a strong interest in feminist literature, social justice, or experimental fiction. For example, countries with active feminist movements or vibrant literary scenes might be particularly receptive to the manuscript’s themes and style.
Additionally, the manuscript could be promoted through international literary festivals, book fairs, or cultural exchanges, which could help introduce it to new audiences and generate interest in translations.
Overall, the potential for translation offers an exciting opportunity to expand the manuscript’s reach and impact, connecting with readers across linguistic and cultural boundaries. By carefully considering how to approach translation and promotion, the manuscript can find a global audience and contribute to important conversations on a wider scale.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be adapted into other formats, such as audiobooks or podcasts, which could make it more accessible to different audiences. For example, an audiobook could allow readers to engage with the manuscript’s content in a new way, while a podcast series could explore its themes through interviews, discussions, or dramatizations.
However, as with film or television adaptations, any alternative format would need to be handled with care to preserve the integrity of the original work. It would be essential to work with creators who understand and respect the manuscript’s intentions and are committed to conveying its complexity and nuance.
In terms of target demographics for these formats, they could overlap with the manuscript’s core audience but also attract new listeners who prefer audio content or who might not typically engage with written literature. For example, an audiobook could appeal to busy professionals or commuters, while a podcast could attract fans of true crime, social commentary, or feminist media.
To maximize the potential for these adaptations, it might be helpful to consider how the manuscript’s structure and themes could translate to audio formats. For instance, the non-linear phases could be adapted into episodic storytelling, with each episode focusing on a different aspect of Sarah’s journey. Similarly, the manuscript’s focus on character and internal struggle could lend itself to a narrative podcast that explores her experiences in depth.
Ultimately, the target demographic for these adaptations would depend on how the content is presented and promoted. By carefully considering the format and messaging, it is possible to reach a diverse audience while staying true to the manuscript’s core themes and intentions.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in therapeutic or support group settings, particularly for individuals who have experienced addiction, sex work, or trauma. The manuscript’s raw, unflinching portrayal of these experiences could serve as a powerful tool for reflection, discussion, and healing.
For example, it could be used in group therapy sessions to facilitate conversations about identity, power, and resilience. Similarly, it could be incorporated into support groups for sex workers or people in recovery, providing a shared text that reflects their experiences and encourages empathy and understanding.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create discussion guides or resources that highlight the manuscript’s relevance to these contexts and provide prompts for reflection and conversation. This could make the manuscript more accessible and impactful for these audiences.
However, it is important to approach this with sensitivity and care, as the manuscript’s explicit content and challenging themes could be triggering for some individuals. It would be essential to provide appropriate support and resources, such as content warnings or access to mental health professionals, to ensure that the manuscript is used in a safe and constructive way.
In terms of target demographics, this could include therapists, counselors, support group facilitators, and individuals who are seeking to understand or process their own experiences. By positioning the manuscript as a tool for healing and growth, it can reach a new audience and make a meaningful difference in people’s lives.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be used in therapeutic or support settings offers an exciting opportunity to expand its impact and contribute to important conversations about recovery, resilience, and empowerment.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a larger multimedia project, such as a website or online platform that explores its themes through various forms of content. For example, a website could feature excerpts from the manuscript alongside essays, interviews, artwork, or other creative works that engage with its ideas.
This could help create a richer, more immersive experience for readers and attract a diverse audience who are interested in exploring the manuscript’s themes through different lenses. It could also provide a space for community engagement, allowing readers to share their own stories, reflections, or creative responses to the work.
To maximize the potential for this, it might be helpful to collaborate with artists, writers, or activists who are working on similar issues or who can bring new perspectives to the manuscript’s themes. This could help create a dynamic, interdisciplinary project that resonates with a wide range of audiences.
In terms of target demographics, this could include readers who are interested in multimedia storytelling, as well as those who are drawn to feminist art, social justice, or experimental media. By creating a platform that invites participation and dialogue, the manuscript can become part of a larger conversation and reach a broader audience.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work is not limited to a single group but encompasses a wide range of readers who are united by their interest in challenging, thought-provoking content. By exploring different formats, contexts, and collaborations, the manuscript can find its way into the hands of those who will appreciate it most and make a lasting impact.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in academic research or as a case study in fields such as gender studies, sociology, or literature. Its engagement with feminist theory and its portrayal of marginalized experiences could make it a valuable text for scholars who are exploring these topics.
For example, researchers could analyze the manuscript’s use of Beauvoir’s and Mulvey’s concepts, examining how they are woven into the narrative and what they reveal about gender, power, and identity. Similarly, sociologists could use the manuscript to explore the social dynamics of sex work and addiction, drawing on its portrayal of systemic issues and individual experiences.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to engage with academic communities through conferences, journals, or online platforms, sharing insights about the manuscript’s themes and inviting scholarly engagement. This could help position the manuscript as a significant contribution to its field and attract readers who are interested in its intellectual and theoretical dimensions.
In terms of target demographics, this could include academics, researchers, and students who are studying gender, sexuality, or social issues, as well as those who are interested in the intersection of literature and theory. By fostering connections with these communities, the manuscript can contribute to important academic conversations and expand its reach.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of academic discourse offers an exciting opportunity to deepen its impact and engage with readers who are passionate about its themes. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can find a place in both literary and scholarly landscapes.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to inspire activism or advocacy around the issues it addresses, such as sex work decriminalization, addiction recovery, or feminist empowerment. Its raw, unflinching portrayal of these experiences could serve as a powerful catalyst for change, encouraging readers to take action or support relevant causes.
For example, the manuscript could be used in fundraising campaigns, awareness events, or educational workshops that aim to address the systemic issues it highlights. Similarly, it could be featured in advocacy materials or social media campaigns that seek to challenge stigma and promote understanding.
To maximize this potential, it might be helpful to partner with organizations or activists who are working on these issues, using the manuscript as a tool for education and engagement. This could help amplify its message and reach audiences who are already invested in these causes.
In terms of target demographics, this could include activists, advocates, and community organizers, as well as individuals who are passionate about social justice and systemic change. By positioning the manuscript as a call to action, it can inspire readers to make a difference and contribute to a broader movement for change.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work includes not just readers but also doers—those who are willing to engage with its themes and take steps to address the issues it raises. By fostering this sense of purpose and possibility, the manuscript can have a lasting impact beyond its pages.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be part of a series or larger body of work that explores similar themes. For example, it could be the first in a trilogy that follows Sarah’s journey or the stories of other characters in her world. Alternatively, it could be part of an anthology that features multiple voices and perspectives on addiction, sex work, or identity.
This could help create a more comprehensive exploration of the manuscript’s themes and attract readers who are interested in a deeper dive into these topics. It could also provide opportunities for collaboration with other writers or artists, enriching the manuscript’s impact and reach.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to consider how the manuscript’s structure and themes could be expanded or complemented by additional works. For instance, a prequel could delve into Sarah’s childhood and the experiences that shaped her, while a sequel could explore her legacy or the impact of her story on others.
In terms of target demographics, this could include readers who are invested in the manuscript’s world and characters, as well as those who are drawn to series or anthologies that offer a multifaceted exploration of complex issues. By creating a larger body of work, the manuscript can build a dedicated following and sustain its impact over time.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of a series or larger project offers an exciting opportunity to deepen its exploration of its themes and engage with readers on a broader scale. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a cornerstone of a rich and meaningful literary endeavor.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be adapted into interactive or immersive experiences, such as virtual reality or augmented reality, which could allow readers to engage with its themes in new and innovative ways. For example, a VR experience could simulate Sarah’s world, providing a visceral sense of her struggles and triumphs, while an AR app could overlay additional content or insights onto the physical book.
However, as with other adaptations, this would require careful consideration of how to preserve the manuscript’s integrity and ensure that the interactive elements enhance rather than detract from its core message. It would be essential to work with creators who understand the manuscript’s intentions and can translate them into an immersive format.
In terms of target demographics, this could include tech-savvy readers who are interested in cutting-edge storytelling, as well as those who are drawn to experiential learning or multimedia art. By offering an interactive dimension, the manuscript can attract a new audience and provide a unique way to engage with its themes.
Ultimately, the potential for interactive adaptations offers an exciting opportunity to push the boundaries of how the manuscript is experienced and understood. By exploring this potential, the manuscript can remain at the forefront of literary innovation and reach readers in ways that traditional formats cannot.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in creative writing workshops or educational programs that focus on storytelling, character development, or social issues. Its complex narrative structure and rich thematic content could serve as a powerful teaching tool, inspiring writers and students to explore their own voices and perspectives.
For example, it could be used in workshops that focus on writing about marginalized experiences, feminist theory, or experimental fiction. Similarly, it could be incorporated into educational curricula that explore literature’s role in social change or the power of narrative to challenge norms.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create lesson plans, writing prompts, or other resources that guide participants in engaging with the manuscript’s themes and techniques. This could make the manuscript more accessible and impactful for educational settings.
In terms of target demographics, this could include aspiring writers, students, educators, and anyone interested in the craft of storytelling or the exploration of social issues through literature. By positioning the manuscript as a source of inspiration and learning, it can reach a new generation of thinkers and creators.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be used in educational and creative contexts offers an exciting opportunity to expand its influence and foster meaningful engagement with its themes. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can contribute to the development of new voices and perspectives in literature.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a cultural or artistic movement that seeks to challenge societal norms and amplify marginalized voices. For example, it could be featured in exhibitions, performances, or festivals that focus on feminist art, social justice, or experimental storytelling.
This could help create a broader cultural conversation around the manuscript’s themes and attract audiences who are interested in art that provokes thought and inspires change. It could also provide opportunities for collaboration with artists, performers, or activists who can bring new dimensions to the manuscript’s message.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to connect with cultural institutions, galleries, or festivals that align with the manuscript’s values and vision. This could help position the manuscript as a significant cultural artifact and attract a diverse audience of art lovers, activists, and thinkers.
In terms of target demographics, this could include individuals who are passionate about art, culture, and social change, as well as those who are seeking to engage with literature in a multidisciplinary context. By integrating the manuscript into a larger cultural movement, it can reach a wide and varied audience and make a lasting impact.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work is not just readers but cultural participants—those who are willing to engage with its themes through various forms of expression and who see literature as a catalyst for broader societal conversations. By fostering this cultural engagement, the manuscript can transcend its pages and become part of a dynamic and evolving dialogue.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in policy discussions or advocacy efforts related to its themes, such as sex work decriminalization, addiction treatment, or gender equality. Its portrayal of these issues could serve as a powerful narrative tool for policymakers, advocates, or organizations working to effect change.
For example, excerpts from the manuscript could be used in reports, presentations, or campaigns to humanize the statistics and provide a personal perspective on the challenges faced by individuals like Sarah. Similarly, it could be featured in public forums or debates to illustrate the real-world impact of policy decisions.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to engage with policymakers, advocates, or organizations that are working on these issues, offering the manuscript as a resource for education and awareness. This could help amplify its message and reach audiences who are in positions to influence change.
In terms of target demographics, this could include policymakers, advocates, researchers, and anyone involved in shaping public discourse or policy around the manuscript’s themes. By positioning the manuscript as a tool for advocacy, it can contribute to important conversations and help drive meaningful action.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of policy and advocacy efforts offers an exciting opportunity to extend its impact beyond the literary world and into the realm of social change. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can make a tangible difference in the lives of those it portrays and inspire progress on the issues it addresses.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be adapted into educational materials or resources for schools, community groups, or online platforms. For example, it could be used in curricula that explore literature, social issues, or feminist theory, providing students with a rich text for analysis and discussion.
Similarly, it could be featured in online courses, webinars, or workshops that focus on its themes, offering participants a chance to engage with the manuscript in a structured and guided way. This could help make the manuscript more accessible to a wider audience and encourage deeper exploration of its ideas.
To maximize this potential, it might be helpful to create educational resources, such as study guides, lesson plans, or discussion questions, that align with the manuscript’s content and themes. This could make it easier for educators and facilitators to incorporate the manuscript into their programs.
In terms of target demographics, this could include students, educators, community leaders, and lifelong learners who are interested in exploring literature, social issues, or feminist thought. By positioning the manuscript as an educational tool, it can reach a new generation of readers and thinkers and inspire critical engagement with its themes.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work includes not just passive readers but active learners—those who are willing to engage with its content on a deeper level and use it as a springboard for personal or collective growth. By fostering this educational engagement, the manuscript can have a lasting impact and contribute to a broader understanding of its themes.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be part of a personal or collective journey of healing, reflection, or transformation. For example, it could be used in therapeutic settings, support groups, or self-help programs to facilitate discussions about identity, resilience, or recovery.
Similarly, it could be featured in personal development workshops or retreats that focus on empowerment, self-discovery, or creative expression. This could help individuals connect with the manuscript’s themes on a personal level and find inspiration or solace in Sarah’s story.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to collaborate with therapists, coaches, or facilitators who can guide participants in engaging with the manuscript in a supportive and constructive way. This could help create a safe space for exploration and growth.
In terms of target demographics, this could include individuals who are seeking healing, growth, or transformation, as well as those who are interested in using literature as a tool for self-reflection or personal development. By positioning the manuscript as a resource for personal journeys, it can reach a new audience and make a meaningful difference in people’s lives.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of personal or collective transformation offers an exciting opportunity to extend its impact and connect with readers on a deeply personal level. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a source of inspiration, empowerment, and change.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a legacy or archive that preserves and celebrates its themes and contributions. For example, it could be included in literary collections, feminist archives, or cultural repositories that document important works and voices.
This could help ensure that the manuscript’s impact endures over time and that its message continues to reach new generations of readers. It could also provide a platform for future scholarship, artistic interpretation, or cultural reflection.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to engage with institutions, organizations, or platforms that are dedicated to preserving and promoting literature, feminist thought, or social justice. This could help secure the manuscript’s place in the cultural and intellectual landscape.
In terms of target demographics, this could include archivists, curators, scholars, and anyone interested in the preservation and celebration of important works. By positioning the manuscript as a significant contribution to its field, it can find a lasting home and continue to inspire and challenge readers for years to come.
Ultimately, the target demographic for this work includes not just current readers but future generations—those who will discover it in years to come and find value in its themes, insights, and artistry. By thinking about the manuscript’s legacy, we can ensure that its impact is not just immediate but enduring.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be part of a dialogue or exchange with other works, authors, or thinkers who are exploring similar themes. For example, it could be featured in literary conversations, panel discussions, or collaborative projects that bring together multiple perspectives on identity, power, or survival.
This could help create a richer, more nuanced understanding of the manuscript’s themes and connect it to a broader intellectual or artistic community. It could also provide opportunities for cross-pollination and inspiration, as different voices and ideas intersect and inform each other.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to engage with writers, scholars, or artists who are working on related topics, inviting them to respond to or build upon the manuscript’s themes. This could help foster a sense of dialogue and community around the work.
In terms of target demographics, this could include readers who are interested in interdisciplinary or collaborative approaches to literature, as well as those who are drawn to conversations that bridge different fields or perspectives. By positioning the manuscript as part of a larger dialogue, it can reach a diverse audience and contribute to a dynamic exchange of ideas.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of a broader conversation offers an exciting opportunity to expand its reach and deepen its impact. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a catalyst for connection, collaboration, and growth.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be used in creative or artistic responses, such as adaptations, reinterpretations, or inspired works. For example, it could inspire visual art, music, dance, or other forms of expression that engage with its themes and bring them to life in new ways.
This could help create a multifaceted exploration of the manuscript’s ideas and attract audiences who are interested in the intersection of literature and other art forms. It could also provide opportunities for artists to reinterpret or reimagine Sarah’s story, offering fresh perspectives and insights.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create open calls for artistic responses or to collaborate with artists who are interested in engaging with the manuscript’s themes. This could help generate a diverse array of creative works that complement and expand upon the original text.
In terms of target demographics, this could include artists, performers, and creators who are seeking inspiration or who are interested in exploring the manuscript’s themes through their own mediums. By positioning the manuscript as a source of artistic inspiration, it can reach a new audience and foster a vibrant creative community.
Ultimately, the potential for creative responses offers an exciting opportunity to extend the manuscript’s impact and engage with readers and artists in innovative ways. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a living, evolving work that continues to inspire and challenge long after its publication.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be part of a personal or collective ritual or ceremony that honors its themes or celebrates its message. For example, it could be used in readings, performances, or gatherings that bring people together to reflect on identity, power, or survival.
This could help create a sense of community and shared purpose around the manuscript, allowing participants to connect with its themes on a deeper level. It could also provide a space for healing, empowerment, or transformation, as individuals come together to honor their own journeys or those of others.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to organize or participate in events that incorporate the manuscript into a ritualistic or ceremonial context, such as a reading circle, a performance piece, or a commemorative gathering. This could help create a powerful, immersive experience that resonates with participants.
In terms of target demographics, this could include individuals who are seeking connection, meaning, or community, as well as those who are interested in the transformative power of literature and art. By positioning the manuscript as part of a ritual or ceremony, it can reach a new audience and foster a sense of shared experience and purpose.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of a ritual or ceremony offers an exciting opportunity to deepen its impact and create lasting memories for participants. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a touchstone for personal and collective growth.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be used in mindfulness or meditation practices that focus on its themes or messages. For example, it could be incorporated into guided meditations, reflective exercises, or mindfulness workshops that encourage participants to explore identity, power, or resilience.
This could help individuals engage with the manuscript’s themes in a contemplative and introspective way, fostering self-awareness and personal growth. It could also provide a unique way to connect with the manuscript’s content, using it as a tool for inner exploration and transformation.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to create mindfulness resources or guided practices that draw on the manuscript’s themes and invite participants to reflect on their own experiences. This could make the manuscript more accessible and impactful for those who are interested in mindfulness or meditation.
In terms of target demographics, this could include individuals who are seeking personal development, self-discovery, or spiritual growth, as well as those who are interested in the intersection of literature and mindfulness. By positioning the manuscript as a tool for contemplative practice, it can reach a new audience and offer a unique path to engagement.
Ultimately, the potential for the manuscript to be part of mindfulness or meditation practices offers an exciting opportunity to expand its reach and provide readers with a new way to connect with its themes. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a source of inspiration and insight for those on a journey of self-discovery.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in creative writing or storytelling workshops that focus on empowering marginalized voices or exploring personal narratives. For example, it could be used as a model or inspiration for participants to craft their own stories of survival, identity, or resilience.
This could help create a space for individuals to share their experiences and find their voices, using the manuscript as a catalyst for creative expression. It could also provide opportunities for community building and mutual support, as participants connect through their shared stories.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to organize or participate in workshops that use the manuscript as a starting point for creative writing exercises, storytelling sessions, or group discussions. This could help participants feel seen and heard, while also deepening their engagement with the manuscript’s themes.
In terms of target demographics, this could include aspiring writers, storytellers, and individuals from marginalized communities who are seeking a platform to share their experiences. By positioning the manuscript as a tool for empowerment and expression, it can reach a new audience and foster a sense of agency and creativity.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be used in creative writing or storytelling workshops offers an exciting opportunity to amplify its impact and support the voices of those who resonate with its themes. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a catalyst for personal and collective storytelling.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be part of a digital or online community that engages with its themes through forums, social media, or virtual events. For example, it could be featured in online book clubs, discussion groups, or social media campaigns that invite readers to share their thoughts, reflections, or creative responses.
This could help create a global community around the manuscript, allowing readers from different backgrounds and locations to connect and engage with its content. It could also provide a platform for ongoing dialogue and exploration, keeping the manuscript’s themes alive and relevant.
To maximize this potential, it might be helpful to create dedicated online spaces, such as a website, forum, or social media group, where readers can gather to discuss the manuscript and share their insights. This could help foster a sense of belonging and community among readers.
In terms of target demographics, this could include readers who are active online, as well as those who are seeking connection and conversation around the manuscript’s themes. By positioning the manuscript as the center of a digital community, it can reach a wide and diverse audience and sustain its impact over time.
Ultimately, the potential for the manuscript to be part of an online community offers an exciting opportunity to expand its reach and create a dynamic space for engagement. By embracing this potential, the manuscript can become a hub for connection, reflection, and growth.
I should also consider the potential for the manuscript to be used in research or data collection efforts that aim to understand its impact or explore its themes further. For example, it could be part of studies that examine reader responses, analyze its narrative structure, or investigate its portrayal of addiction and sex work.
This could help generate new insights and knowledge about the manuscript’s significance and contribute to broader academic or cultural discussions. It could also provide opportunities for collaboration with researchers, scholars, or institutions that are interested in its themes.
To facilitate this, it might be helpful to make the manuscript available for research purposes or to engage with researchers who are exploring related topics. This could help position the manuscript as a valuable resource for scholarly inquiry and expand its influence in academic circles.
In terms of target demographics, this could include researchers, scholars, and students who are studying literature, gender, or social issues, as well as those who are interested in the manuscript’s unique approach to storytelling. By embracing its potential for research, the manuscript can contribute to important conversations and deepen its impact.
Overall, the potential for the manuscript to be part of research efforts offers an exciting opportunity to explore its themes and significance in greater depth. By fostering connections with the research community, the manuscript can find a place in both literary and academic landscapes.
I should also think about the potential for the manuscript to be used in artistic or creative collaborations that bring its themes to life through different mediums. For example, it could inspire visual art, music, theater, or dance that interprets or responds to Sarah’s journey.
This could help create a multidisciplinary exploration of the manuscript’s themes and attract audiences who are interested in the intersection of literature and other art forms. It could also provide opportunities for artists to engage with the manuscript’s content and bring new perspectives to its story.
To explore this potential, it might be helpful to organize or participate in collaborative projects that invite artists from various disciplines to respond to the manuscript. This could help generate a diverse array of creative works that complement and expand upon the original text.
NB: The cover image is the design I handed to the designer to create the cover. The current consensus is that the syringe replacing the L doesn’t work. Back to the drawing board.
I’ve got a bone to pick with Claire Fraise, dammit. I’ve lost 2 days I’ll never get back — including the time it’s taking me to create this post.
Claire shared a YouTube video on using plot grids for your writing process. Being me and heeding her advice, I decided to create a plot grid – I call it a plot matrix; same thing – for a project I am editing.
Video: What is a plot grid?
I should probably create a video response, but I didn’t have even more time to lose.
Full Disclosure: By lose time, I don’t want to imply by any means that this is wasted time.
Since the plot matrix I created is for an unpublished manuscript, I decided to create one for the first chapter of my published book, Sustenance. It contains two sections or scenes.
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.
I’ll share the process I used and reference the Excel document I created. Download it if you’d like to follow along.
After the explanations, I’ll discuss how I use ChatGPT to help me with this, as well as some challenges you may wish to be aware of.
Below is a screenshot of a portion of the plot matrix.
Image: Portion of plot matrix
I’ll start by sharing the column headers and a brief explanation of what each means. Some should be obvious, but I’ll describe them as well.
Narrative Order: The order a scene appears in the manuscript.
Chronological Order: The sequence in which events occur in story-time, enabling tracking of flashbacks or non-linear jumps.
Sentiment: A numerical indicator of the scene’s emotional tone, from deeply negative (–5) to strongly positive (+5).
Chapter: The chapter or section title in which the scene appears.
Plot Points: A summary of key events, revelations, or decisions that occur in the scene.
Time: When the scene takes place, whether exact or relative (e.g., “early morning,” “flashback,” “six months later”).
Primary Characters in Scene: The characters actively driving or anchoring the scene.
Secondary Characters in Scene: Important but less central characters who influence or are present in the scene.
Minor Characters in Scene: Tertiary figures mentioned or briefly appearing without narrative weight.
Word Count: The number of words in the scene, useful for pacing and balance.
Emotional Beat/Theme: The scene’s dominant emotional tone or thematic current (e.g., betrayal, longing, discovery).
Emotional State: The internal condition or affective register of the POV character(s) during the scene.
Scene Function: What the scene accomplishes narratively (e.g., exposition, climax, setup, reversal).
Character Arc: How a character is developing, stagnating, or regressing within the scene.
External Stakes: The tangible, real-world risks or consequences present in the scene.
Internal Stakes: The emotional, psychological, or relational consequences at play.
Needs Clarification?: A flag to indicate whether a scene contains confusing elements or ambiguous logic.
Revision Priority: A ranking of how urgently the scene needs refinement.
Conflict Type: The dominant form of conflict (e.g., internal, interpersonal, systemic, environmental).
Turning Point?: Whether the scene marks a key reversal or decision point in the narrative.
Turning Point Direction: Indicates the shift’s trajectory (positive, negative, neutral, ambiguous).
Direction Commentary: A brief rationale for how and why the narrative tone or direction changes.
Reinforces: Themes, motifs, or ideas the scene strengthens.
Undermines: Themes or ideas the scene weakens, contradicts, or questions.
Reveals: New information, secrets, or understandings brought to light.
Conceals: Key details or truths the scene deliberately withholds.
Distorts: Misunderstandings, biases, or unreliable elements introduced.
Inverts: Role, expectation, or thematic reversals subverted in the scene.
Echoes: Recurrent phrases, images, or patterns from earlier scenes or motifs.
Revision Commentary: Notes on potential rewrites, improvements, or cautions.
Punch List: Specific edits or action items needed in revision.
Resolved?: Whether the scene’s tension, question, or arc has been closed.
Location: Where the scene is physically set—important for continuity, blocking, and worldbuilding.
Iowa: Opening Scene
Narrative Order: The order a scene appears in the manuscript.
I am tracking scenes/sections rather than chapters because that’s the way I’ve organised the manuscript. I want to capture the smalled logical element of the story.
Being a spreadsheet, I need to keep track of the sections, so I give each scene a number. In this case, we are looking at section 1 of the narrative order, the first section a reader encounters.
Chronological Order: The sequence in which events occur in story-time, enabling tracking of flashbacks or non-linear jumps.
This manuscript has no flashbacks at this point, so the sequencing tracks 1-to-1. In the manuscript I am editing, it starts in media res, and there are two large jumps back and forth in time.
Being in a spreadsheet table, I can sort the story by narrative or chronology, which helps me track logical progressions that I might miss otherwise.
Sentiment: A numerical indicator of the scene’s emotional tone, from deeply negative (–5) to strongly positive (+5).
I like to track sentiment, so I can provide emotional dynamics to the reader. I don’t want to come across as bleak or euphoric for extended periods.
By this scale, 0 is neutral, -5 is gawdawful, and +5 is over the moon.
In these first two scenes, the protagonist, Kenny, is tracking just under baseline to neutral. Nothing much is happening emotionally, as we are just establishing the place.
Chapter: The chapter or section title in which the scene appears.
The name of this chapter is Iowa.
Plot Points: A summary of key events, revelations, or decisions that occur in the scene.
In scene 1, we have this:
Narrator establishes his identity, location, and tone.
Mentions girl, Bruce’s death, and being misunderstood.
Foreshadows larger story.
Time: When the scene takes place, whether exact or relative (e.g., “early morning,” “flashback,” “six months later”).
We are in the now.
Retrospective/Near-Present
Primary Characters in Scene: The characters actively driving or anchoring the scene.
This is a first-person, present, limited, deep POV story, so Kenny is one with the narrator.
Secondary Characters in Scene: Important but less central characters who influence or are present in the scene.
Kenny is just setting up the scene, and he mentions two secondary characters:
Bruce (mentioned)
‘Her’ (mentioned)
My preference is to scope the characters globally. This means that if some character interacts with a significant character but doesn’t appear elsewhere, I’ll consider them to be a tertiary or minor character. Some writers prefer to track these characters at a scene level. This is a personal preference.
Minor Characters in Scene: Tertiary figures mentioned or briefly appearing without narrative weight.
These are incidental characters that you might want to track in case you want to expand or adjust them.
Jake (mentioned)
narrator’s dad (mentioned)
Word Count: The number of words in the scene, useful for pacing and balance.
These are two short scenes: 247 and 502 words.
Emotional Beat/Theme: The scene’s dominant emotional tone or thematic current (e.g., betrayal, longing, discovery).
What’s going on here? Am I conveying what I aim to?
Isolation, defensiveness, curiosity
Belonging vs alienation; repetition vs rupture
Emotional State: The internal condition or affective register of the POV character(s) during the scene.
What’s the POV character feeling?
Guarded, nostalgic, lonely
Resigned, mildly boastful, reflective
Scene Function: What the scene accomplishes narratively (e.g., exposition, climax, setup, reversal).
Why does this scene exist? If it doesn’t serve a purpose, get rid of it, or give it one. Make sure every scene builds on characters or advances the plot.
Narrator introduction; frame story establishment; tonally primes the reader
Establishes rural setting, background on narrator’s world and connections, foreshadows disruption
Character Arc: How a character is developing, stagnating, or regressing within the scene.
Again, ensure your characters(s) have movement. In this story, there are several characters with an arc, but Kenny is the only one being tracked thus far. Being the start of the story, the question is, where does he go from here?
Establishes base-level insecurity masked by bravado
Solidifies narrator’s self-image and history within town hierarchy
External Stakes: The tangible, real-world risks or consequences present in the scene.
What external considerations might the character be making in this scene, whether they do or don’t do something?
Implied social stigma or alienation
Community perception and social standing
Internal Stakes: The emotional, psychological, or relational consequences at play.
What internal considerations might the character be making in this scene, whether they do or don’t do something?
Fear of being misunderstood or blamed
Fear of irrelevance, unresolved identity
Needs Clarification?: A flag to indicate whether a scene contains confusing elements or ambiguous logic.
When sketching a scene idea, you may have unresolved loose ends that you either need to tie up in the scene or somewhere else. Usually, this is more interested in making sure a reader doesn’t leave the scene confused — unless, of course, this is your intent.
Revision Priority: A ranking of how urgently the scene needs refinement.
This is important in a reviewing/editing phase. As you are cleaning up your manuscript, are there massive holes that need to be plugged, or might this just need some minor refinements?
Conflict Type: The dominant form of conflict (e.g., internal, interpersonal, systemic, environmental).
This could be a post of its own, so I won’t belabour the issue here. Readers like conflict. It gives something to resolve. Is this conflict related to the person, their past, another person, their environment, society, and so on? Document it here. Several conflicts make for more complex characters and stories.
Internal (identity, credibility)
Internal (identity vs environment)
Turning Point?: Whether the scene marks a key reversal or decision point in the narrative.
In this case, the first scene has now; the second does.
No
Yes
Turning Point Direction: Indicates the shift’s trajectory (positive, negative, neutral, ambiguous).
If there is a turning point, what’s the direction? A stable or lateral vector is fine.
None
Foreshadows disruption
Direction Commentary: A brief rationale for how and why the narrative tone or direction changes.
If there is a shift in direction, what is it? This might help to orient you when scanning, so you can know in the scene where to edit.
None
Last line (“Until that day”) subtly transitions from ordinary routine into impending change
This next section captures how the scene functions from several perspectives.
Reinforces: Themes, motifs, or ideas the scene strengthens.
Undermines: Themes or ideas the scene weakens, contradicts, or questions.
I like to subvert tropes and expectations as well as make social commentary, so this can be informative for me. In this case, I want to depict these things in a different light.
Traditional heroic framing
Romanticisation of small-town life
Reveals: New information, secrets, or understandings brought to light.
What does this scene reveal?
Setting, tone, perspective
Social fabric of the town, Kenny’s values and limitations
Conceals: Key details or truths the scene deliberately withholds.
In the first scene, I mention matter-of-factly,
Real details of Bruce’s death and who ‘she’ is
The event that disrupted the routine
So the reader knows there’s a “Bruce” and a “she,” but who they are remains to be seen. And Bruce died. How?
Distorts: Misunderstandings, biases, or unreliable elements introduced.
This is getting more nitpicky, but sometimes I like to obscur some things?
Narrator’s reliability and possible biases
Self-perception vs actual social role
Is this a reliable narrator? Even if he wants to be, is his perception accurate?
Inverts: Role, expectation, or thematic reversals subverted in the scene.
I like to subvert tropes and expectations here, too. This can also be used to intentionally have a character act out of character.
Traditional ‘boy meets girl’ trope
The classic “tight-knit community” mythos
Echoes: Recurrent phrases, images, or patterns from earlier scenes or motifs.
Early on, this most captures echoes of the external world, as this does. Later on, a scene might echo (and perhaps amplify) a prior scene.
Small-town fatalism
American nostalgia, masculine banality
Revision Commentary: Notes on potential rewrites, improvements, or cautions.
Here, the AI gods advise me to streamline these scenes, but I answer to no gods. 😉
Could trim repetition or streamline internal monologue for pacing
Minor streamlining of “rural inventory” might improve pacing without losing tone
Punch List: Specific edits or action items needed in revision.
If there are revisions to be made, capture them here, so you’ll remember what you were thinking about when you suggested a revision. In this case, the reminder is the same. Too late, it’s already published.
None
Possibly trim town description repetition
Resolved?: Whether the scene’s tension, question, or arc has been closed.
In both case, the answer here is no. Being an opening scene, hopefully, this open issues and questions – unless you prefer to resolve everything immediately.
Location: Where the scene is physically set—important for continuity, blocking, and worldbuilding.
This is setting information. This will be more helpful in a complex environment. In this case, there’s not a lot to say. He’s on his front porch step, rambling away about his town and his story.
Iowa, unspecified small town
Iowa, narrator’s town and neighbouring town
ChatGPT and Plot Matrices
After completing my manuscript, say a first draft, I feed it into a ChatGPT project. Then I run this prompt.
Let's use this format. I'll provide the value of (X). From where we are, Narrative and Chronological orders have converged and will remain so. They are equal to Row ID - 1. I'll use Row ID (X) as a reference marker.
Row ID (2), Narrative Order (), Chronological Order (), Sentiment, (Integer: Range between -5 and +5), Chapter (Iowa), Plot Points, Time, Primary Characters in Scene, Secondary Characters in Scene, Minor Characters in Scene, Word Count (247), Emotional Beat/Theme, Emotional State, Scene Function, Character Arc, External Stakes, Internal Stakes, Needs Clarification?, Revision Priority, Conflict Type, Turning Point?, Turning Point Direction, Direction Commentary, Reinforces, Undermines, Reveals, Conceals, Distorts, Inverts, Echoes, Revison Commentary, Punch List, Resolved?, Location
I know you’ve heard this before.
Boy meets girl. Different places. Different cultures.
Not quite Romeo and Juliet. Not yet, anyway.
It could’ve been Nebraska. Montana. Oklahoma.
But it wasn’t. We’re in Iowa.
I remember the first time I saw her—or saw them.
But I want to talk about her.
And yes, the misunderstanding.
But I’ll get to that. Don’t rush me.
Everyone wants to hear about how Bruce died.
Another misunderstanding. These things happen.
It wasn’t her fault.
It wasn’t mine.
I wasn’t even there.
But she was. And he was.
Let’s go back to the start.
It was over a year ago.
A bit before that.
But first, let’s set the facts straight. I’m a
regular guy. Graduated high school. Not some conspiracy theorist, if that’s what you’re thinking.
Never left Iowa. Not even for college. The furthest
I’ve been’s Jake’s and the flea market a couple towns West. I know this place the way some folks know scripture—by scent, not verse. The way the soybean dust hits your throat during harvest. The way old barn wood smells after rain.
I believe in Jesus, but I’m not one of those Jesus freaks. Don’t paint me with that broad brush.
And I’m not one of them incels either. I’ve had girls. I’ll tell you about Jake’s. I even had a girlfriend for a few weeks, but it didn’t work out. A guy needs some space. That’s all. I’m sure you know what I mean.
I find that ChatGPT isn’t great tracking within larger documents, so I’ll pass in a section at a time, as shown above. This is the first scene of the first chapter of Substance.
Noticing that this scene sets up a flashback to a year in the past, the narrative and chronological order values should differ. Since this is just an example, I hope you learn from my mistakes. Also, I’d reorder the columns next time, but I created this prompt in steps as I progressed.
You need to be careful about what AI outputs. Don’t take it all at face value. If you incorporate a lot of nuance or subtext, the AI will likely miss the point. AI is a low-context system. Most communication in the West (notably excepting the South in the United States) is high-context.
High-context cultures rely heavily on shared understanding, nonverbal cues, and implied meaning—much is left unsaid because context fills in the gaps. Low-context cultures prioritise explicit, direct communication where meaning is made clear through words, not assumptions.
The AI picks out the plot points from your passage. This is usually uncontroversial.
The way ChatGPT uses Time could be better. This is almost an extension of the setting. What I was initially hoping for in my more complex story is a method to ensure my timeline wasn’t convoluted. I didn’t want to have a pregnancy delivery flashback to a conception two weeks earlier – unless that is an intentional plot point… or we’re talking about flies or something.
I find that some of the scene descriptions are a bit suss, but you can tweak them if they are too far off target. To be fair, you can share your manuscript with a dozen readers and get a dozen renditions – none of them in line with your own. It happens.
I commented on the Revision Commentary earlier. Just like a human editor, you can take or leave the advice. In the end, the writing is that of the author.
In many cases, you can ask the AI to elaborate: What do you mean it’s too long? or some such.
Or you can explain your intent. For example, I wrote another book and intentionally left it open-ended. The AI came back with, What happened?
I explained that the reader could draw their own conclusions, and the AI came into line.
One parting thought: You may pass the same passage through the same AI several times and get several outputs. They aren’t usually diametric, but be aware of this. Also, if you run this on Claude, Perplexity, or another platform, your results might vary there, too.
Anyway, if you got this far, what did you think? Do you use pilot grids? Do you use AI to assist in your editing? I use AI for research. Do you? Some people use AI for writing. I’m not as keen on this, but I’m not judging.
Ridley Park 