NOTE: This post is a bit longer than usual—about an 12-minute read. If you’re not interested in the writing process or how AI can enhance creativity, feel free to skip it! For those who would enjoy a deep dive into how I developed my writing workshop with some help from AI, read on!
Several months ago, Marla Martin, the programming coordinator at the Woodbury Public Library, asked if I would be interested in hosting a writing workshop to accompany my month-long display of family artifacts commemorating International Holocaust Remembrance Day.
My first thought was I’m not a writing teacher! Then I thought I’m a teacher. I can write. I can probably teach writing. So I said yes. Then I panicked. How will I teach the class? What activities should I provide?
Scripty McPromptface to the rescue! (Remember, Scripty my ChatGPT pal?) After writing a detailed prompt explaining exactly what I wanted to do, Scripty returned a fabulously clear outline of the 1.5-2-hour class I needed to plan.
From there, I decided to go a step further – would Scripty develop a PowerPoint presentation following that outline?
Of course! Happy to do it!
Naturally, there was some refinement to be done, but AI definitely saved me a bunch of time. After tweaking some points, and and adding a few others, all I had to do was my favorite part – choosing a template and finessing the presentation.
But what if it sucks? What if the class is boring or doesn’t flow? Imposter syndrome sneaks in again! I asked my writing sprint pals if they would do a dry run with me. They agreed.
This past Wednesday, we all met on zoom (for two hours!) while I “practiced” the presentation. We had a great time. And I got some terrific suggestions.
One was to provide the participants with some examples along the way so they feel more comfortable that they’re “on the right track.” Another was to share a story I completed (in rough draft form) so they could see the progression from notes to story. You can read that below. It took me 13 minutes to write the piece, not counting the time I had to spend to correct all my typos.
The flowered tile always hung on the wall in my mother’s house. At least, that’s how I remember it. About the same size as a deck of cards, the ceramic tile is made of several layers: a background of gray, a layer of white with a rick- rack cut border, then finally the top layers of multi-colored flowers. The colors were probably very vibrant at one time. But, now they are faded and the dust clings to the dimensional edges of each blossom. Unlike most of the items from my childhood home, this plaque has no damage. No chipped edges, cracks or even broken pieces of flower.
On the back, the word HOLLAND is stamped in the hardened clay and a rusty wire loop is embedded through the top and back. The number 3 is written on the back. After it a dash, in the top left corner. I assume that was the cost of the tile.
Holland holds a special significance in my family. It was where my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother took refuge in 1938 after fleeing Vienna, Austria. Perhaps that was where they acquired the item?
When I look at the tile, I am reminded of the struggles my family endured as they fled their homeland, sheltered temporarily with friends in Holland, before making their lives in their new country, the United States. I see three strong women when I look at the tile; my mother, Doris Lichtenthal Falcone, her mother, Rose Spiegel Lichtenthal, and my great-grandmother, Sophie Weiss Spiegel. Each had their own struggles and their resilience inspires me to this day.
As I worked on this project, I decided to find out the provenance of the piece. I texted each of my four siblings, asking what they knew about the cherished heirloom. Not a single one remembered it! Happy that they weren’t upset that I held this piece to keep without asking them, I then remembered, the “3” written on the back. Was my treasured family heirloom really just some random item my mother picked up at the Goodwill? I’ll probably never know. But that’s okay. It’s how I feel when I look at it that matters.
For the last four years, and for the foreseeable future, it sits on my desk, just to my right and next to the smiling picture of my mother. It doesn’t matter where it came from. It’s the emotion that counts.
Another great suggestion was to offer ideas on what to do next, such as exploring the history of the item, creating a blog or social media post about it, or writing additional stories to compile into a book of heirlooms. Another idea was to explore how AI could enhance their storytelling.
That was a great suggestion. Since most participants will probably be novice writers, learning how to use a tool like ChatGPT could be incredibly helpful in developing their writing skills. So I did just that with my own piece. You can read it below.
PROMPT: rewrite this story for clarity, flow, and sensory details.
The flowered tile always hung on the wall in my mother’s house—at least, that’s how I remember it. About the size of a deck of cards, the ceramic tile is composed of several intricate layers. The background is a muted gray, overlaid with a layer of white—edged in a delicate rick-rack pattern. On top of this, colorful flowers bloom in raised relief. Once, the colors were likely vivid and lively, but time has muted them, leaving the blossoms faded and coated with a fine layer of dust clinging to their textured edges.
Unlike most items from my childhood home, this plaque is remarkably intact. No chipped edges, no cracks, no missing petals—its pristine condition feels almost miraculous. On the back, the word “HOLLAND” is stamped into the hardened clay, and a rusted wire loop is embedded at the top for hanging. In the upper left corner, the number “3” is scrawled in faded pencil, followed by a dash. Perhaps it was the original price of the tile?
Holland holds a special significance in my family’s history. In 1938, my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother fled Vienna, Austria, and found refuge in Holland before eventually making their way to the United States. Could this little tile have been acquired during their time there? I wonder, though I may never know for sure.
When I look at the tile, I see more than faded flowers and a dusty surface. I see the resilience and strength of the three women who shaped my family’s story: my mother, Doris Lichtenthal Falcone; her mother, Rose Spiegel Lichtenthal; and my great-grandmother, Sophie Weiss Spiegel. Each faced unimaginable challenges as they fled their homeland, yet they endured, rebuilding their lives in a new country. Their strength inspires me to this day, and the tile feels like a quiet testament to their journey.
Curious about its history, I recently decided to ask my siblings if they remembered the tile. I texted each of the four, hoping they might offer some insight into this cherished piece. To my surprise, not a single one had any recollection of it. While I was relieved they weren’t upset that I had kept the tile, their responses made me question its origins. Was this treasured family heirloom actually just something my mother picked up at a Goodwill store? The thought amused me. I may never know the truth—but, ultimately, it doesn’t matter.
For the past four years, the tile has sat on my desk, just to the right of my workspace, beside a smiling photo of my mother. Its origins, whether lofty or humble, are irrelevant. What matters is how it makes me feel when I look at it: connected to my family’s history, inspired by their strength, and comforted by the memories it evokes.
It’s not where it came from that counts—it’s what it means to me.
Which piece resonated more with you? You know I can’t help myself, so I asked Scripty to evaluate the two pieces.
Here’s the prompt: Please create a table that compares and contrasts these two pieces of writing. Evaluate them for writing style, clarity, flow, and whether the piece makes it clear why the item is important to the writer. Finally, if you were an editor of a collection of short stories, which version would you choose and why?
I then cut and pasted in both pieces. #1 is mine and #2 is Scripty’s version.
Table Comparing the Two Versions
| Criteria | Version #1 | Version #2 |
|---|---|---|
| Writing Style | Informal and conversational; the sentences are straightforward but sometimes lack polish. | Polished and professional; sentences flow smoothly with precise and varied word choices. |
| Clarity | Clear overall, though some sentences are less refined or slightly awkward (e.g., “I assume that was that the cost of the tile”). | Very clear and refined, with concise phrasing and well-constructed sentences. |
| Flow | Slightly uneven; transitions between ideas could be smoother, and some parts feel abrupt (e.g., the siblings’ responses). | Excellent flow; transitions between paragraphs are seamless, and the narrative is cohesive and engaging. |
| Importance of Item | The significance of the tile to the writer is explained but somewhat buried under the focus on its physical description and mystery. | The significance is woven throughout the piece, connecting the tile to the family’s history and the writer’s emotional response. |
Editor’s Choice and Rationale
I would choose Version #2 for inclusion in a collection of short stories.
Why?
Version #2 is more polished, with a stronger narrative voice and better flow. It effectively balances descriptive details with the emotional and historical significance of the tile, making it more engaging for readers. The conclusion reinforces the emotional resonance of the piece, leaving a lasting impression.
While Version #1 has a charming informality, it lacks the refinement and cohesiveness that would elevate it for publication in a curated collection.
Thank you, Scripty, for saying my writing is “charmingly informal.” Of course, keep in mind that this was simply a rough draft I wrote in 13 minutes and didn’t edit.
I didn’t want to let Scripty off the hook so easily, so I responded with: Ha! The version you picked is the version you wrote, using my version #1 as the original. What do you say to that?
Ever the polite AI, stopping just short of condescending, Scripty replied:
You got me! 😊 In fairness, my evaluation was based purely on the writing quality and structure of the two versions as presented. Version #2 is my rewrite of your original, so the comparison naturally reflects the edits I made to improve flow, clarity, and narrative impact.
However, it’s worth noting that your original (Version #1) has a warmth and conversational tone that might appeal more to certain audiences. If you were aiming for a more personal and informal style, then Version #1 has strengths that could shine with only minimal tweaks.
Ultimately, it’s a matter of purpose and audience. If the goal is a polished piece for publication, the revised version (or a combination of the two) might work better. If it’s for a more personal project or a blog, your original voice is spot on. Let me know if you’d like me to revisit this with that in mind!
So there you have it. There’s a lot packed in here besides just my journey developing a writing workshop. I hope you see how AI can also be a teacher. Yes, you could simply ask it to rewrite your work. But look what I learned through the evaluation! The comments have not only improved my piece but also helped me think more critically about my writing during the editing stage.
Using AI isn’t about replacing creativity—it’s about enhancing it. Whether you’re a novice writer or someone with years of experience, tools like this can offer fresh perspectives, challenge your assumptions, and push your writing further than you might have imagined.
I encourage you to experiment, reflect, and let AI become a trusted collaborator in your writing process. After all, every writer needs a great editor—even if it’s one made of code.
DISCLAIMER: AI was NOT used to write this post, with the exception of the rewritten essay, the evaluation, and the last sentence. Which, you will note, is quite complimentary of AI!
NOTE: I posted the two versions of the piece on the Daily Sprinters Facebook page. (The private FB page for my writing group.) One member commented, “I like yours better. It sounds more like you!” So, that’s something to keep in mind when using AI—be judicious when utilizing AI’s suggestions. You don’t want to sacrifice your own voice when “enhancing” your writing.
THE SESSION: On Saturday, January 18, 2025, I will be holding a writing workshop at the Woodbury Public Library. Through guided exercises, participants will learn to use their heirlooms as inspiration to craft personal and meaningful narratives to share and preserve. I’ll let you know how it went!
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