I wrote about my dad some time after he had passed away some years ago.
I wrote about my stepfather after he had passed in February.
And I wrote about my father in law after he had suddenly passed away in May.
Every single time it was hard. emotionally. But it was a cathartic moment at the same time. I remembered what made me feel connected. What they meant to me.
To outsource this to a machine would have robbed me of emotions, wonderful memories and closure.
But I have to say from experience, that writing about them was a totally different thing than to read these words at their funeral.
This was very, very much a different beast. It still makes me tear up thinking about it. It still makes me choke.
I think if you read the piece it's not really about "outsourcing" the writing. It almost feels like the machine's guesses, though not necessarily great writing and not necessarily factual, give the author the courage to flesh out her own writing.
I’m surprised by some of the backlash—it felt to me nearly like a form of digital Ouija board; given a prompt and some subconscious input, a vague or nonsensical response can feel like communion.
I wrote about my stepfather after he had passed in February.
And I wrote about my father in law after he had suddenly passed away in May.
Every single time it was hard. emotionally. But it was a cathartic moment at the same time. I remembered what made me feel connected. What they meant to me.
To outsource this to a machine would have robbed me of emotions, wonderful memories and closure.
But I have to say from experience, that writing about them was a totally different thing than to read these words at their funeral.
This was very, very much a different beast. It still makes me tear up thinking about it. It still makes me choke.