Karl's life

In my professional life I am a writer. A technical writer that wants to teach my readers as much as possible about a new subject. Once a week the newsletter will arrive in their inboxes and they will read whatever I have chosen to write about. The world has a dizzying choice of things to do and I hope to capture their attention for three minutes. Just enough for me to make a living.

I just wrote this week’s newsletter. My hands are sweaty. Every time I re-read it I find a new typo, swear under my breadth and squeeze my right hand. I worry its bad. But simultaneously think it is better than anything anyone else could do. But then depress myself with the thought that its never going to make a difference to anyone. Yet I sit here, after midnight, in the dark, obsessing.

I put it into ChatGPT and ask the machine if my article is “good, original, well argued”. Humanity makes an almost God like tool and I use it to boost my self esteem. I might put this whole online diary into it next. Ask it if it thinks I am a good human? A thoughtful writer? An interesting person? I really hope it says yes.