Typing Offline

I really want to get a classroom set of word processing machines for my students to type up their drafts after working in their notebooks. Many of them struggle with writing legibly, and they like the comfort of the spell-check function (I know I do too!).

But I don’t want them accessing the internet, partly because it is distracting and takes them out of flow, but also, more immediately, because some (many?) students have decided to use ChatGPT (and equivalent) to “help” them do their work.

I’m so adamantly opposed to LLM (and other forms of generative “AI”) that I want to remove all temptation and access. If they want to use it in their non-school lives or as adults, I can’t stop them, and whatever, God speed, I guess. But in my classroom, where I value human work and the connection that comes from sharing our written thoughts and stories with others, I want an “AI”-free zone.

Also, I cannot believe more people aren’t talking about the environmental and energy-related issues that come from these AI companies. It’s staggering! All so we can have ChatGPT write fan letters for us? It’s insane. Talk about a solution in need of a problem.

If I was given a fan letter written by some LLM, I would not only be uninterested in it, I would be deeply saddened that someone even thought I would want to read what some language-predictor machine burbled up from its store of (copyright-protected, by the way, and nobody gave it permission to use those) words.

It’s all so meaningless. That’s what saddens me about students turning in “AI”-generated essays and creative writing. It’s a waste of my time. I don’t care about “perfect” grammar or sentences that “sound” good but are devoid of any real meaning or human feeling. I want to know what my students THINK — what THEY think — about their own ideas and experiences.

Of course, what hampers all of this and drives students to use ChatGPT is grading. Once a grade is involved, the pressure is on to get that A, so they will do whatever they need to in order to achieve it. When you try to de-center grading in the classroom, they don’t see the point in trying and don’t do any work. It’s the conundrum of modern schooling. The grade is all that matters; it’s the currency that allows students to get into college, and then once in college, it’s the currency that allows them to graduate and get a job.

Writing, for instance, often has little-to-no importance for students. They don’t see the point other than it’s another hoop to jump through. Sadly, I’ve seen students not even care when the writing piece is something personal or something they’ve chosen to write about. They still don’t see the value.

This is not every student, mind, not by a long shot, but it’s enough to be discouraging. And it’s also enough that it makes me want to get a classroom set of THESE so that students can still type their words, but they must type THEIR words and not the words of some machine.

Anyway, I need about $7000 for a classroom set of twenty. Not sure how to get a grant or donation to pay for that (I’m not even sure the company who makes the word processors has twenty of them waiting around for some random teacher to buy), but it’s a goal for me this year.

I want to emphasize the process of writing, the tactile quality of writing by hand, of communicating through words and pictures, comics, collage, letters written in one’s own hand, doodles, and yes, even typed stuff, but typed stuff that is typed on a keyboard and generated by a human mind and heart.

I want to center our humanity in the classroom this year. Learning is about more — so much more — that getting a grade, getting into college, getting a job. I want to help my students NOT surrender their humanity to a machine.

And I want to hear the clickety-clack of keys typing without any interference from the internet or the corporations who want us all to “embrace” a technology we didn’t ask for. That’s my rant for the new year. Now how can I find seven grand?

“The Writer’s Journey” by Vogler

I got this book from the library about a month ago. It’s due back soon, so I thought I’d make an effort to finish it before then.

I was supposed to read Vogler’s book for a screenwriting class way back in my freshman year of undergrad, but I never actually did. I was very much anti-Hero’s Journey at that time. I’m still not quite sure how I feel about the concept even now, but I thought I could use a bit of a refresher in story structure, and despite my ambivalence about the “Hero’s Journey” with a capital H, I’m interested in archetypes and symbols, and Vogler’s book offers some interest on that score. The archetype stuff is very general, but again, I felt like I need a refresher. Sometimes a re-acquaintance with ideas we already know is helpful; we might see something new in studying them again, or we might see how these ideas work differently within our new context.

Since I’m in the midst of writing a noir fantasy novel that’s leaning heavily on certain tropes and types (while at the same time trying to put my own spin on them… the same dance we’re all doing, basically), I’ve enjoyed reading through Vogler’s descriptions of types like the Shadow, the Shapeshifter, and the Trickster. My main character Grettir has been a bit of all three archetypes so far, and I’m curious why that is. What made me craft a hero who is all these other types at various times? What’s happening under the surface in my imagination that I’m trying to explore?

I can definitely see how my other characters might fit into these frameworks too, and already I’m getting ideas for how I might lean into these archetypes a bit more.

What I like about Vogler’s approach is that he doesn’t prescribe how we should use these archetypes or structures. He’s quick to point out ways in which great stories often subvert or subtly shift these elements to fit the story that’s being told. These are frameworks not prescriptions or dictates. I like that element of freedom, recognizing that every story will be shaped by the teller and the needs of the tale.

The other thing I like about the book is a bit towards the end where Vogler compares the artist’s process of writing and creating to the hero’s journey (hence the title: The Writer’s Journey). What are my Shadows? Who are the Tricksters on my journey?

These questions are not simply cute metaphor. At least for me, they enliven the creative process, showing how this journey into imagination and storytelling is a transformative experience for the writer (and hopefully for the reader too). Not that every story needs to be “important.” In fact, it’s not about the finished story at all because that way leads to writer’s block and frustration.

Instead, the “writer’s journey” framework helps me see that what I’m doing isn’t pointless or stupid. No matter how my stories “turn out,” the act of creating them is what’s important. It’s a journey, after all. The emphasis is on the journey itself and not the finished product. It’s about the writer and her transformation as she goes on this journey.

In some ways, this is what I love about telling stories and writing in general. It’s about what it does to ME. Yes, I hope for the audience to have a good time and get something out of it, but that part is out of my control in the grand scheme. I can write to the best of my ability and hope the audience responds, but I can’t make them have a good time. I can only try.

But for myself, the writer, I do have control. By putting words on a page, I am embarking on my own journey. I’m telling myself the story. I get to face the ups and downs of the adventure, both in the tale I’m telling and in my experience of writing that tale. The act of writing is the journey. I will face Shadows and Threshold Guardians, find Mentors and Allies, and ultimately, if I finish the story, I will face the Ordeal of Critical Voice, defeat it, and bring back the Elixir of Life.

(All these terms are covered in Vogler’s book as part of his analysis of the Hero’s Journey, particularly in films; he cribs a lot from Joseph Campbell.)

Anyway, this is what struck me as I read through as much of the book as I could before it had to go on its own journey, back through the return chute at the library.

“Pick a notebook, any notebook”

“Pick a notebook, any notebook. If you compose well in it, you will become attached. Choose a pen that feels right. It could be a beautiful, expensive fountain pen, or any old BIC. Whatever feels good in your hand. Okay — this is your notebook, and this is your pen. Balance the notebook on your lap or set it on a table. And wherever you are in your work, start there. If you listen closely, you’ll hear the sound the pen makes as it moves across the page. Now, doodle something. Write a few sentences. Scratch them out. Write a few more.”

Dani Shapiro, from Still Writing, “Composing” chapter

Winter

I really like winter. I think this is one reason why my husband and I were made for each other. We have no desire to live in a warmer clime. We like the snow and cold. Maybe it’s a kind of weather Stockholm syndrome, maybe all these Michigan winters have brainwashed me, but I love them. Even the gray. Lots of people like winter in Minnesota or whatever, where it’s sunny even when it’s cold. But here in Michigan, we are cloudy and gray and cold for much of winter. And I love it.

Obviously, winter can also be horrible. When there’s ice, when I have to drive through a snowstorm, when we lose power and there’s an Arctic vortex or whatever happening. Winter is horrendous at those times. I’m sure for the people going through an ice and snowstorm right now, winter is the worst. And deadly.

I’m not immune to the fears of winter’s deadliness. I feel them. I know them, in fact.

But I also know that I don’t want to live in a warmer place. I tried Southern California in autumn. It was the pits. I couldn’t imagine never feeling the snow and cold, never tasting the air when its below zero, never catching a whiff of fireplace smoke drifting through the pale-pink evening on a short walk through the silent street.

And when the cold gets so bitter against my skin, I can feel the sting of it on my cheeks, and my nose is dripping like crazy, and the house is just ahead, and my lungs are stinging from breathing the brittle air; I catch the doorknob, push open the front door and step into the embrace of my home’s warmth: that’s when I love winter. I love it for the daunting coldness and the challenge of a long walk through the falling snow, but also for the way it lets me come home. A chance to sit beside the window and watch the light fade, drinking tea or cocoa, wrapped in a blanket, feeling my cold cheeks with the back of my hand. Feeling content.

That’s what I love.

The Motern Method

Book just came in the mail. Haven’t read it yet, but will report back later when I do.

I first heard of The Motern Method and Matt Farley on Austin Kleon’s substack. The whole question of quantity versus quality and how much we should share is something I’ve been interested in for quite some time.

I really, really want to follow Heinlein’s Rules as championed by Dean Wesley Smith, so I’ve tended to lean on the side of “share it all” — or “Put it on the market” in Heinlein’s parlance — which is definitely NOT the attitude of most artists, and which can seem a bit “icky” in the case of someone like Farley, if you think what he’s doing isn’t art. I don’t write stuff in order to game the system or the algorithm or whatever. But then, I also don’t think Farley is just trying to game the system either. He wants to write songs and he wants people to listen to them. Why not write hundreds of poop songs? Nobody said art had to be serious.

If what Farley does is art, then who cares if his songs are silly or designed to get people to click on them?

But if what Farley does isn’t art, then that’s where we might accuse him of cynically manipulating the system.

I kind of think he’s an artist, so I’m kind of okay with his crazy output.

Anyway, I ordered his manifesto, The Motern Method, partly because I’m interested in these quantity/quality debates, and also because I am trying to banish my Critical Voice and embolden my Creative Voice, and Farley’s method seems ideal for such attempts.

I have reading I need to do for work, but The Motern Method is calling me like an algorithmic siren song…

« Older posts

© 2025 Jennifer M. Baldwin

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑