I turned off #Apple #Intelligence because not only did it write things resembling "My grandfather fell out of one of those things and died when he was a baby," they made it so that if you press the space bar twice (which used to insert a period) now will insert that frequently used phrase or sentence ending instead. If you're typing and not reading what you're typing, chances are you're gonna say some very strange things.

I could probably go up on a rant on this, but when did people decide that #writing ought to be dumbed down to what everybody else is saying, rather than using your brain to come up with something eloquent to move your audience? Are we really that lazy?

Yeah, I see the root causes: Greedy corporations wanting to jump onto the next big thing, Gullible #programmers racing to #code the killer feature and bonuses rather than judging the worthiness of the feature. It's a little bit like radium and watch dials, which I brought back for one of my stories with a twist. Madam Curie died because science didn't understand something essential about radioactivity, yet, and who knows how many cases of lung cancer resulted from the glow in the dark watches.

The problem with #AI and ethics is training, the source. A good writer takes training, and that includes willing teachers, reading, experience writing, and feedback. A good AI requires the same thing, they call the feedback "curation." That's "educating" it what is crap and what is gold. Moreover, the training ought be done on the writing of the person using the AI, or by willing and well paid teachers, and I really don't get why Apple didn't take this tack and create something truly useful to that writer.

My best guess why not? The psychology of their perceived user: The need for instant gratification. If we train each AI the way we train each human student, where's the ability to cut out the labor and mass produce writers?

I want the personally trained #AI that can fill in the missing word that's at the tip of my tongue, that can reliably flag my recurring grammar errors, that can complete my sentences with the accuracy of my spouse of decades. As an SF writer or as an essayist, it should recognize my idiosyncratic vocabulary and not autocorrect it, to the point of accepting new words or phrases. It astounds me that AI contribution isn't color-coded in a ADA safe way during composition to show where the writer might want to verify the generated contributions. That all auto correct auto complete doesn't do this is a serious set back to the technology.

Okay, I ranted.

A big thank you to @vextaur for the discussion I sourced this from.

#BoostingIsSharing #writer #writing #author #fiction #SF #sciencefiction #WritingCommunity #writersOfMaston #greed #economics #genai #chatgpt #openai

#uspol

"... I fled communism from Nicaragua when I was 8 years old. I don’t take it lightly. And let me tell you what communist dictators do. …

"They attack the free press. They call them the enemy of the people, like Ortega does in Nicaragua. They put their unqualified relatives in cushy government jobs, so they can get rich off their positions, like the Castros do in Cuba. And they refuse to accept legitimate elections when they lose and call for violence to stay in power, like Maduro is doing right now in Venezuela.

"Now you tell me something. Do any of those things sound familiar? Is there anybody running for president who reminds you of that?"

—Ana Navarro, a former Republican speaking at the Democratic National Convention.

#election #vote #kamalaharris #kamala

#BoostingIsSharing

Hat tip to @cbarbermd Can't say this better.
#theComingLaborApocalypse #AI

#PennedPossibilities 324 — SC POV: If you could relive one day of your life without changing anything that happened, which day would you choose? Tootfic: Reframing the Experience

[When my SC says armor, it's really a weightless magical exoskeleton that melds with her body. It looks like blackened bones, because it is. —R.S.]

Oh, there's plenty of days I'd relive unchanged. Like the day I fledged, when I first flew on my own. Or the day I learned the thrill of hauling things through the sky. Both good events in a rather dull and awful childhood that turned to cinders when my parents disapproved of the way I wanted to live my life. Said I aimed for the dirt not the sky. Maybe they weren't so dumb—I ended up badly, flying messages for a crime boss over a dozen years. But, then, there was that day last week...

I've told you a few times how I ended up with the armor and a new job training as a pretorian, you know, having faced down the greatest thaumaturge who ever lived, having nearly killed her. Impressed her.

I thought.

Well, my drill instructor was training me that dawn. I wore the armor. The thaumaturge dove at me, full speed. She's a monster flier, taller, more massive, immortal. I jumped into the sky. Fled.

She followed.

Though the armor let me fly like a sparrow, change direction in a heartbeat, and take a thumping only slightly changing my course, it had been her armor once. She kept appearing before me, striking at my face or heart, sending me into spins toward the ground, stalling me out, almost panicking me into flying into trees or buildings. For all her mass and the inertia that implies, I barely avoided her, half the time with her cackling at my barrel rolls or dives that sent down feathers flying. She had muscle; I tired despite the armor until I thought my heart would burst from my chest, at which point a flyby pitched me into the ground.

I skid across the running track on my belly right up to my instructor. I don't know how I didn't break a wing or my neck. Ok, I do: The Armor.

She landed beside me with a loud thump. She wasn't even winded! She told him, "She lacks stamina. Train her harder."

She leaned down until her face was in my face. I smelled maple syrup on her breath. She said, "You need to use the magic in the armor. There's a class at first bell in the Ivory building, room B7. Shower and be there ON TIME."

I have wings.

I don't do magic.

I showered though, once my legs stopped shaking. I slunk into the class still half-frightened out of my wits. My new friend was there, the curse breaker, a former prizefighter, the one I'd fought beside against Her, that ended up with me getting the armor. It was some sort of advanced special Ed class for mages. I suddenly felt totally inadequate and I cried. Me. At the age of 30, I cried telling her my story, pointing to my purpling bruises, complaining that had She gotten in a good strike She would have caved in my rib cage.

My friend was having none of it. She said, "You're a day angel who just went ten minutes fighting Her. Somehow, you're still alive."

I hadn't thought about it that way. I later learned the word, "Reframing."

The instructor came in with a truckload of tomes and grimoires. She had prepared him for me. He gave me a magic primer. I knew it was a primer because it had PICTURES of youngsters playing. Despite the stares of the other students, I read the book.

Half hour later, I got the armor to glow dull red, like iron out of a forge. Truly. Awesome. Didn't know what it did except look intimidating, but still...

Awesome.

I felt my heart grow large in my chest, and it struck me. Someone (okay, the ruler of the nation) wanted me for who I was and who I could become, and because I was capable. She wanted me to aim for the sky. My new friend supported me and pushed me forward. I liked this, who I was, what I was finding I could be, could become.

And.

Oddly.

I realized, for what it was worth, my parents would approve. (And flap them if they didn't!)

Best. Day. Ever.

[Author retains copyright (c)2024 R.S.]

#BoostingIsSharing and #CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon
#RSdiscussion
#RSstory #RSReluctanceStory
#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic #smallstory

#writingCommunity, #writersOfMastodon, #writers, and all my followers:

In an effort to lower my archive size to under 100 MB so I can download a backup of my Mastodon account, I am deleting the images by editing my posts from oldest to newest. I won't delete anything 2024 if I can help it. I am leaving the following message:

• Image deleted alt=Whatever was in the image as alt text.

Here is my search string as of my writing this post:

• from:sfwrtr has:media before:2023-03-01

Introduction to R.S., Author, Novelist Updated 03/22/25

First, a few words:

"One thing you learn from watching TV, movies, anime, and reading best sellers, to pulp, to fanfic: No story is perfect. There's always hopeful contrivance and caricature in plot or character, a little or a lot... but it works. We like it. It gets bought, published, produced, noticed, sometimes loved despite the warts.

"Authors and playwrights of all levels... take heart. Complete your project and go on to the next. Complete is the superpower you can have, perfect doesn't exist."

And something that works for me: Are you blocked by your internal censor? Do you worry you're revealing your embarrassing true self? Say what I say to myself:

I am not telepathic.

Repeat that: I am not telepathic.

Louder: I AM NOT TELEPATHIC!

I DON'T know what the reader is going to expect.

I DON'T know if the current scene is going to frighten, trigger, or be too explicit for my audience...

Because I DON'T have anyone looking over my shoulder, clicking their tongue, and saying, "Tch, tch, tch!"

I am going to take a deeeeeeep breath, now,
clear my mind,
and write the flapping scene—
full stop.

Who is R.S.?

• I am a formerly published feminist SF author and a prosaist—which is what a poet is to poetry, but for prose.
• I write #fiction stories that often address issues of gender at least peripherally. I'm aiming to short list for an Otherwise Award.
• My genre tags are #sf, #sff, #sciencefiction, #fantasy, and #romance.
• I'm a fan of rhetoric and elocution; I'm a prosaist, remember? Humor makes life and writing tolerable.
  
• My community is #author, #writer, #writingCommunity, and #writersOfMastodon.
• I hosted the #EngenderedWriting hashtag. See: #EngenderWritingQ.
• I post often to various writing hashtags, which are variously called games, prompts, or challenges: #pennedPossibilities, #wordWeavers, #ScribesAndMakers, #writever, and #writersCoffeeClub,
• If you become confused about my gender, that's intentional. I write gender fiction, so if I revealed mine, it would add subtext to my stories. If you know or learn it, please keep it to yourself. Thanks!
• #ActuallyAutistic, which explains how I can overly focus, seem obtuse, or end up running down rabbit holes. No worries. It's actually a superpower.
• This link (https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110470537747067765) leads to a list of shorter stories I've written to post exclusively on Mastodon (#microfiction #flashfiction #tootfic). I retain the copyright on those stories.
• My Markdown Reference: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/114741821407500330

I'm building a network of authors by entertaining you, and by sharing what I've learned through decades of doing it the hard way. My motto: There Shall Be Content! I want to help our writing community by helping authors overcome what keeps them from completing stories. I'm learning self-publishing as a business. I want to push back the loneliness that's part and parcel of this solitary profession.

I follow serious authors, which means people diligently writing or working at completing stories or articles or anything containing words with the intent to publish, whether that's #fiction, #nonfiction, #scripts, #comics or #manga, or #games. I will read your profile to check for content before following. You need not courtesy follow in return for a follow.

I boost posts that announce authors' work and publications. I want my followers (largely artists, authors, and photographers) to see your work. We're all creatives here, trying to be professional. Everyone needs to promote their work; I want to help you. Don't repeat too often. Since I follow so many people, my timeline is full. Don't feel bad if I miss something. Private mention @sfwtr@eldritch.cafe!

I'll follow an #artist upon seeing interesting artwork, #photography or hand-drawn/painted #art. I am partial to #charcoals and #pastel, appreciate #sketch art, but love #watercolor. If wowed, I'll discuss what's great in reply, or #critique if you're close and I I can help. I commission cover and interstitial art. I do fine art photography and some wedding and event photography.

Life and Everything Else: I have a weird sense of humor, which follows since many of my characters are snide and cynical.

Favorites: My clicking the favorite button means something caught my attention, was particularly apropos to the idea, was entertaining, or somehow pithy. If I reply to your post, I've definitely noticed something!

Hot Buttons: Feminist issues are my bread and butter. So too labor issues, like jobs being automated out of existence without ensuring former employees can support themselves. If you want to use #genAI, #chatGPT, or AI to replace writers or artists, or jobs, you're barking up the wrong tree, buster! I post those road apples under #theComingLaborApocalypse.

I believe Boosting is Sharing. I appreciate when people boost my posts when they affect them.

#BoostingIsSharing

#Links to #Story Samples Written by R.S.

I've written very short fiction stories in my universe for #Mastodon under various hashtags. They're first citizen samples of my 1st person writing, in my casual—made to be read aloud—writing style, and include my still evolving characters. None tally much more than 750 words, with a hard character limit set by my instance. I think they're an easy read. Some are based on my earlier works, some on works not yet written. Most of what was written for Mastodon was written quickly, edited immediately, then posted. It could be better, but I've resisted more than revising typos or inappropriate words. Everything is experimental; nothing should be considered canon.

Stories:

• Not Carrion https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110993252771253246
• Lest Night Fall https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/111168341654222870
• After Birth https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/111191533450077751
• Memories Fade https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/111537950013710864
• Young Love https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110743266787135458
• About that First Kiss (CW) https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110698098034001478
• The Wanted Poster: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110136451462609798
• Wild Encounter: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/109842477740039509
• Ms George and the Dragon
  https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110603595653290409
• Where Most Comfortable: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/109826357405137553
• Friends Amongst Thieves: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110448415650126821
• Crowned Not in a Good Way https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/111164297800442997
• The Masquerade Invitation: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110250683189485013
• Dream of Being Alive, of Laughter: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110340314616596061
• Love Can't Wait: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110425766506783077
• Trust Issues: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110385678774151219
• Sharp Tool a'Traveling: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110487865412278719
• She has a Birthday in Autumn: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110277659480504706
• Reframing the Experience: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/112497915608418589

Excerpts with proposed titles:

• I'm not the Thaumaturge You're Looking for...: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110064129027510807
• Not Chattel: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110057414498422658
• Dangerous Word Play: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/109943717912031929
• Fight for Real: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110317141401752671
• Daemon at the Door: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110362730587455597
• Bling with Strings Attached: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110345919252932146

Interviews:

• "What do you envy about your closest friend?": https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/109966079428055171
• "Briefly describe your relationship with your parents.": https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110006348394099406*
• "The three most important things in your life?": https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110016958897411843
• An unusual question: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110091209716356788
• "If you could teach one subject...": https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110142692823048417
• "What do you never leave home without?": https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110165508077506058
• "What annoys you the most?": https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110182258491654419
• "What do you find attractive in him?": https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110198914541850851
• "What is your idea of a perfect day?": https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110241319393777199
• "What attracted you to her?": https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110217050633826912
• "Who Am I?": https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110312478082661315

Other:

• Vignettes asking whether she's attractive: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110391891938480784

[Author retains copyright to all posted words]

All my answers to #writingWonders can be found by clicking: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/tagged/WritingWonders

#BoostingIsSharing #CommentingIsCool

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #1stPerson #writersOfMastodon #story #RSstory #storySamples #excerpt
#microfiction < 500 words
#suddenFiction ~750 words

#WritingWonders 4.3 — The Wanted Poster by R.S.

Someone knocked with what proved to be a clipboard before coming into the conference room, and the various lieutenants' bodyguards stiffened. The thug still had a bandage over his eye and an arm in a sling as he walked in and discreetly handed the clipboard to me. I looked at the single page.

"Not a joke?" I whispered, my mouth wide open.

"No, Boss."

The poster had official diffraction stripes with rainbow lettering. It displayed two images, one snapped after I'd shoved the boss down on the seat of the brougham as we fled the summit, less than a minute before the carriage exploded. It showed me in a hooded cape with my chin mask up, unluckily glowering at the lens. The second was a bank image. The scale showed my above average height. This time my hood was down for visibility and my hair up in a gangland bouffant. The chin mask was intact. Despite soot from the riots on my face, you could see my flattened nose and brushed eyebrows, but not the most important part. I escorted the boss past on the sidewalk. Between the crash gate grate and her having just darted to my right, you couldn't see her wings or face.

You could identify the Old Harbors Post Office across the street by its century old architecture.

Fortunately, the image of me drenched in blood that evening, the one under the headline in the morning edition, wasn't included. The constables hadn't made that connection, except to the extent that the first line of the wanted poster read, "Detain for questioning by order of Rainy Days, Director of Home".

I shivered. The evil woman was too close to connecting the dots. I had to excise the Mustang elements that could take advantage of the chaos and to prevent the syndicate from spinning into internecine war. I was already responsible for too many deaths because I'd been too cowardly to do what I knew was right. This poster meant I had to disappear and leave the east coast sooner than later. It was if I watched my plausible deniability lining up at the window like a string of rats and, one by one, defenestrating itself.

It read further, "Wanted for questioning in regards to the Old Harbors Post Office and the Three Forks Bridge explosions. Suspected of transporting illegal goods and wanted persons, assault, racketeering, attempted murder, and terrorism. Goes by the name Gelding and other aliases. Aged between 15 and 35."

I muttered, "A two-decade range? I'm not even two decades old." I really worked on disguising myself, and it paid off.

"High-level thaumaturge without a limiter. If apprehended, shackle to a hard surface to prevent escape. Consider dangerous. Reward for information leading to arrest: 2 years basic."

I loved praise and grinned at being recognized as high-level, but added, "I'm not dangerous."

South Beach snorted, then sat there her chest bouncing as she struggled with a hand over her mouth to hold in her laughter. I looked around the room. The men and women smiled, getting the joke, but others looked serious. Feathers made rustling noises. They knew I had the kiss of death.

I grinned, handing the clipboard back to my thug secretary. "Burn that."

"Yes, Boss."

[Author retains copyright]

#fiction #fantasy #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writer #writers #author #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #except #flashfiction

#BoostingIsSharing
#CommentingIsCool