How I Use AI as a Writing Partner (And Why It’s Still Me on the Page)

Yesterday, I received an email from a long-time reader and fellow writer on Medium. It moved me more than I can say. They said they’ve been reading my stories for years, since before my heart attack, and even though they’re a self-described lurker, my latest newsletter about AI pulled them out of the shadows.

They were honest: AI scares them. Especially what it might do to writers. I get it. It's scary to think that our whole identities could be replaced by a machine.

But then they said something that stuck with me:

Then they asked a beautiful, vulnerable question: Would you be willing to show how you actually use AI?

The answer is yes. Not just because you asked, but because it’s something I believe in. Not as a trend. Not as a gimmick. But as a deeply personal tool that’s helped me recover my voice and build momentum again.

So here it is. A behind-the-scenes look at how I use AI: not to replace myself, but to work with myself.

Step 1: Topic Generation — When My Mind Feels Like Static

Let’s start here, because this is often where I get stuck.

I’ll wake up with a vague emotional thread or a half-baked thought, but nothing specific. Nothing useful. In the past, that meant a blank page for hours.

Now, I type into ChatGPT something like:

Or:

It doesn’t always get it right. But sometimes, one of those ideas unlocks something I couldn’t see on my own. That’s enough to get me going.

Step 2: Outlining — When I Know What I Want to Say But Not How

Once I have a topic, I’ll sketch out a few key thoughts. Then I’ll ask:

Or if I have a single sentence or story fragment:

Sometimes, the AI just echoes what I already know. But sometimes it surprises me, gives me a new frame or structure, or reminds me to breathe narrative into the ideas.

Step 3: Research and Clarification — So I Sound Like I Know What I’m Talking About

Even when I write personal essays, I try to layer in facts, references, or stats when appropriate. But Googling is a mess of open tabs and distractions.

So I’ll ask:

Or:

AI doesn’t replace deep research, but it gives me starting points. It gets me oriented.

Step 4: Drafting & Flow — When the Train Derails Mid-Sentence

This is where it gets interesting.

Sometimes I write a few paragraphs and hit a wall. I’ll paste what I’ve got into the prompt box and say:

Or:

It’s like having a writing partner who’s good at filling in the blanks without stealing your voice.

Which brings me to the most important part...

Step 5: Voice, Rhythm, and Rewrite — Still Me. Always Me.

Over time, the tools I use (especially GPT) have gotten better at understanding how I write.

Because I feed it my past essays, blog posts, Medium stories, even my bios and drafts, it starts to reflect back my phrasing, tone, structure. It knows I like short bursts followed by longer, reflective sentences. It knows I prefer clarity over cleverness. It knows I’m always writing to someone, not just the void.

But it still needs me.

I rewrite almost everything it gives me. I massage the rhythm. I add the gut. I add the truth.

The AI gives me a rough shape. I breathe life into it.

Step 6: Editing and Polish — A Robot Copyeditor with No Ego

Final stage. I’ve written the piece. Rewritten it. Lived in it.

Then I drop it back into AI one last time and ask:

Sometimes it catches things. Sometimes it doesn’t.

But even that small interaction gives me peace of mind, because when you’re writing at 5am after working overnight, it’s easy to miss a comma or a clunky phrase.

Why This Works for Me

Yes, people are scared of AI. I get it. I was too.

But here’s something I believe with my whole heart:

The only writers who will be replaced by AI are the bad ones.

The formulaic. The soulless. The content mills churning out SEO sludge.

There will always be a need for real, human, raw, emotional writing, because AI can’t feel. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

And people still crave that connection. That humanness. That lived experience. That truth.

No algorithm can replicate that. Not fully.

So the job now isn’t to fear the tool. It’s to double down on what makes your voice irreplaceable.

To get more human, not less.

To write with guts. With honesty. With flaws and texture and real blood in the ink.

That’s what I’m trying to do.

And AI? It just helps me do it more often.

I’ve written thousands of things in my life. But for a long time, I couldn’t finish anything.

Mental illness. Depression. Burnout. Fear. The blank page was louder than my will to write.

AI helped quiet that noise.

It helped me find the pulse again.

It’s not magic. It’s not perfect. It’s not a substitute for the work.

But it’s the best co-pilot I’ve ever had.

And in my second act—my real one, the one that matters—I’m not ashamed to say I use every tool I can to show up.

If this helps you do the same, then it’s worth sharing.

Always.