ChatGPT and the Curious Case of the Hollow Paragraph

There’s a reason so many early writers think ChatGPT is the answer to their prayers. Writing is hard. Structuring a story is hard. Knowing where to begin, how to build tension, when to reveal information, how to make dialogue sound real, how to set up a scene, these are things that take time. Learning how to write and tell a cracking story takes time. There are no shortcuts. Try and run that marathon without any training and see how that works for you. Same with writing.

This is really a reminder that ChatGPT words sound empty. I’ve been coaching a few writers who always used to write in their own words then BAM! All of a sudden their writing sounds hollow. No matter how you think ChatGPT reads (because it has a habit of making you think that what it’s written is better than what you’ve written) ChatGPT is rarely as good as what you write. 

ChatGPT has this dumb way of circling around and around a point, using as many words as possible, as it tries to sound poetic or prosey. In the end, the ChatGPT sentence or paragraph simply reads like empty words. Or corny or cheesy. Or too over the top.

I’m not saying that Chat GPT does not have a place in your writing. It can. When for example you’d like to broaden your word selection. It’s a fabulous thesaurus. 

IE:  10 words for hollow:

Empty
Vacant
Void
Soulless
Blank
Shallow
Echoing
Bleak
Barren
Lifeless

It can be useful when you are trying to work out your premise. It can help you sharpen your precis. BUT it will still sound lifeless, so you have to tweak the premise into your own words and style. 

As far as actually writing with CHATGPT? It will read like crap. And when you work with words and stories you can pick its use a mile away.

The danger is that beginning writers start sounding like everyone else before they’ve even discovered their own uniquely fabulous voice.

This is one of the reasons I’m so passionate about teaching story craft in person.

The Sydney Storytelling Workshop at Woollahra Library, Double Bay, running August 21–23, is designed to slow writers down and reconnect them to the building blocks of storytelling. The workshop is intentionally small, with fewer than 20 writers, because I want space for conversation, reflection, team writing, close attention and genuine progress.

Over the three days we work through the fundamentals of storytelling, creating people and understanding their conflict, memoir, sense of place, theme and plot, dialogue that does more than simply deliver information, and the delicate balancing act of backstory. Drop me a line if you’d like the full 3-day program. Or if you’re worried about something. 

We also explore why stories lose momentum, why scenes flatten, why dialogue sounds false, and what actually keeps a reader emotionally invested.

There will be five different lecturers/writers/speakers teaching across the weekend. Ashley Kalagian-Blunt, Petronella McGovern and structural editor Laurel Cohn (the backstory queen), as well as an author panel featuring Adam Courtenay (memoir, autobiography and biography), Meg Kenneally (editing) and Larry Writer (niche writing).

On the final afternoon, Benython Oldfield from Zeitgeist Literary Agency joins us for a Q and A about publishing, submissions, and what agents are currently looking for. Writers can optionally submit a short précis or paragraph from their work beforehand if they feel ready, though many participants simply listen and absorb the Zeitgeist Literary Agency discussion.

What I love most about these Art of Writing long weekends is light bulbs go off. Watching writers leave trusting their own voices and inspired to keep going.