Death is Eternal #388

Saturday. February 17, 2024. 2,253 words.

Another week, another Death is Eternal. Although, last week, we had two instalments of the newsletter—Death is Eternal #387 and Harvey Turpin, Private Investigator, in “The Mirage of Love.” Not two newsletters per se, but two emails in your inboxes because, as I mentioned back in November, to keep things organized and to highlight the character, I decided to separate Harvey Turpin stories from the regular Death is Eternal. First, he deserves it; second, it gets easier to find his adventure if they’re alone and his name is on the title instead of buried in the newsletter; and third, because then I’m creating a due date for me, and that’s the only way of making me write consistently; everybody wins!. Anyway, every 15th, you’ll get to read a new chapter of his life! And every week, you’ll keep reading the regular Death is Eternal. So much content! So enjoy the low prices and upgrade your subscription! Many exclamation points in a row! Yay!

Contents

1. USS Monitor (1862)

2. Writing: AI assistance

3. Bye!

4. Life (from February 12 to 25, 2024)

5. Death is Eternal review # 266: Saga Compendium 1 by Brian K. Vaughan, Fiona Staples, and Fonografiks

6. The end

1. USS Monitor (1862)

As the USS Monitor slipped into the waters of the East River on that fateful January day in 1862, the nation, torn by strife, finally released a collective breath it had been holding. One hundred and one days of anticipation, anxiety, and relentless toil culminated in the birth of a marvel—a vessel unlike any other to grace the seas.

The genesis of the Monitor was born of necessity, a response to the looming spectre of the CSS Virginia, the South's formidable ironclad, poised to upset the delicate balance of power on the waters. With each passing day, the North felt the weight of time pressing upon them, a relentless adversary that brooked no delay.

In the workshops of American inventor Theodore Timby and the brilliant mind of Swedish-born engineer John Ericsson, the blueprint for salvation took shape. Their collaboration was a symphony of innovation, a melding of minds determined to defy the odds and forge a vessel that would defy convention.

Theirs was not merely a construction task but a battle against time itself. With each stroke of the hammer and every metal weld, they fought against the relentless march of days, knowing that every moment lost was a step closer to defeat.

Yet, amidst the urgency, a sense of imperfection lingered—a recognition that perfection was a luxury they could not afford. As plans were hastily drafted and materials hurriedly assembled, there was an understanding among the artisans that theirs was a task fraught with compromise.

And so, on that crisp January morning, as the Monitor slipped gracefully into the water, there was a palpable tension in the air—a silent acknowledgment of the trials that lay ahead. The crowd that had gathered bore witness not only to the birth of a vessel but to the embodiment of hope—a symbol of resilience in the face of adversity.

As the Monitor set sail for Hampton Roads, the murmurs of doubt and speculation followed in its wake. Yet, amidst the skepticism, there burned a steadfast belief—a conviction that this vessel, born of sacrifice and ingenuity, was destined for greatness.

For the Monitor was more than just a ship; it was a testament to the indomitable spirit of a nation, a beacon of hope in a time of darkness. And as it faced the trials that awaited it on the horizon, it carried with it the hopes and dreams of a people united in purpose—a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there exists the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

The end

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USS Monitor was an ironclad warship built for the United States Navy during the American Civil War and completed in early 1862. It was the first such ship commissioned by the Navy. Monitor played a central role in the Battle of Hampton Roads on 9 March under the command of Lieutenant John L. Worden, where she fought the casemate ironclad CSS Virginia (built on the hull of the scuttled steam frigate USS Merrimack) to a stalemate. American inventor Theodore Timby designed the ship's distinguished revolving turret, establishing the monitor class and type of armoured warship built for the American Navy over the next several decades.

2. Writing: AI assistance

Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

Lately, I’ve found myself pondering the boundaries of AI’s role in writing. I’ve touched on this topic before in my previous reflections, namely in Death is Eternal #349 and #360. But this time, I want to delve deeper into the nuances of leveraging AI in writing, exploring where it aids and where, as a writer, I firmly draw the line.

Let me clarify upfront: when I say “writing,” I specifically mean creative writing—not mundane tasks like drafting emails or cover letters. Frankly, I believe such tasks should be automated altogether, freeing up valuable time for more meaningful endeavours. In fact, I’m all for AI crafting resumes, especially considering employers increasingly rely on technology for recruitment. Letting algorithms converse with one another seems far more efficient than me attempting to engage with a robotic system. With that said, let’s delve into my reflections on the matter.

Before proceeding, it’s worth stating the obvious: everyone is entitled to their perspective. What follows is my take on the matter.

My initial foray into using AI left me expecting it to handle everything from ideation to execution—a complete overhaul of the writing process. However, I quickly realized that such an approach wasn’t ideal—at least not for my needs, nor in a manner that resonated with me. Since then, I’ve been contemplating how AI can augment rather than replace my craft, making my writing process smoother and the final product more refined.

Acknowledging the reality that AI is here to stay and will only continue to evolve is crucial. Therefore, I firmly believe in embracing and mastering it, recognizing the competitive advantage it offers me in the future landscape.

My reflections have steered me towards a middle ground where I utilize generative AI to enhance my writing journey. How, you might wonder? Well, primarily by leveraging it for feedback. After completing a piece, I turn to AI for insights into its strengths and weaknesses. While the advice may not be groundbreaking or surpass human feedback, it offers a fresh perspective that I would otherwise struggle to attain without days of detachment. This efficiency in gaining feedback allows me to swiftly iterate on my work while still immersed in the creative flow—an invaluable time-saving tool.

Yet, there are clear boundaries that I uphold. Regarding the creative essence of writing, I staunchly refrain from outsourcing to AI. I won’t seek its solutions when I’m stuck, nor will I delegate tasks like crafting lines, paragraphs, or chapters. That’s my territory, reserved for the sparks of my creativity. Admittedly, there are exceptions—I begrudgingly admit to employing AI for two creative aspects: generating titles and crafting blurbs. Titles, in particular, have always been my Achilles’ heel—aside from Suicidal in Heaven: A Journey of Choices, I hate all my titles—and AI provides a much-needed assist in this realm. Similarly, it excels in sculpting compelling blurbs and synopses that capture the essence of my work far better than I ever could.

It’s crucial to acknowledge that my interaction with AI is collaborative in nature. Take, for example, the synopsis of the aforementioned book:

“A sinner walks through the Kingdom of Heaven, an innocent walk through the Circles of Hell. Life after death is as mysterious as life on Earth.”

An embarrassing attempt on my part!

In contrast, AI effortlessly crafted a compelling synopsis for Harvey Turpin, Private Investigator, in “The Mirage of Love”:

“In Nova Loncastre, Harvey Turpin, Private Investigator, unravels a twisted tale of love and betrayal. As he navigates a treacherous maze, he finds himself entangled in a web of secrets. In a world where trust is a luxury and truth is a fleeting illusion, the PI must embrace his world’s darkness.”

A stark contrast in quality!

(It’s important to mention that it was a collaborative work because the first version had more than 300 characters, which I couldn’t publish at Bluesky Social. So, I had to use my editing and writing skills to shorten it, which further reinforces my point about my usage of AI:)

In essence, my initial misstep was expecting AI to be a co-author of sorts, when in reality, it functions best as an assistant editor—helping me hone my craft and elevate my writing to new heights.

Now, I invite you to share your thoughts. Do you align with my perspective, or do you believe AI should play a more dominant role, or perhaps none at all? Where do you draw the line?

3. Bye!

Here’s where we say our farewell to the free subscribers. If you want to read the rest of Death is Eternal, consider becoming a paying subscriber. If you already are a paying subscriber, first of all, thank you very, very much! And second, I’ll see you on the other side of the paywall.