"while still making it seem like i wrote it"

There’s some quote from a Paris Review interview with Toni Morrison, where she said, 'Struggling through the work is extremely important — more important to me than publishing it.' Good quote. Smart lady.

I taught two screenwriting courses to undergraduate students in Fall ’24 and Spring ’25. It was just one day a week, two back-to-back three hour courses. I’d show them short films. We’d talk about their scripts. We’d read them aloud. They’d give notes to one another. By the end of the semester, they’d all have a short film script they’d written that (hopefully) they feel like they can film. It was cool seeing some students’ scripts really improve over the semester. A handful of students’ scripts didn’t improve and maybe they just added a comma or two and changed the protagonist’s name. And that’s cool, too.

I’d have the students write multiple drafts. They should be tired of their script by the end of it, because that’s what I think is required to continue to make something stronger, to allow it to evolve, and to push yourself to see what can be tighter, what can be brought out more. And not in a, procrastinating ‘The script will never be good enough’-way, but rather, you have this time, so get the bad first draft out of the way. And the slightly-less-bad second draft. And the marginally less-bad third draft.

It’s interesting seeing what they choose as their topics. It’s fun to discuss what areas they want to improve, what they’re drawn to, what they continue to get hung up on.

Almost all of the students are invested in the scripts they’re trying to write. Which makes sense. They’re trying to commit their lives to an industry that is “evolving,” to put it diplomatically. (“Crumbling into specks of irrelevant dust,” if you’re a glass-is-half-empty guy.) Point is, short of connections, your only chance in this industry is to care, to work, to be invested.

That’s what made one student so fascinating. He never came to class. Turned in one assignment — the first one — the whole semester. Never turned in an outline. Never turned in any of the four required drafts of the script itself. I emailed to see if he wanted to set a time to talk about his script, if he was having trouble, but no reply.

I ended up giving him a “D” as his grade. He was firmly in the “overwhelming F” category, percentage-wise, but I don’t want to fail anyone. A solid “D” felt fair — one of the top four letters.

Days later, I get a panicked email saying that he’s just uploaded all of his drafts of his script. He’d forgotten to upload all four drafts, somehow. Memory’s a tricky thing.

I checked the final draft of his script. On pg 4, he included the following:

“Let me know when you're ready for the Third Draft, and I’ll increase Jordan’s presence and build more back-and-forth dialogue to meet the requirement of two speaking characters throughout.

You said:

now create the best version of this screenplay possible for my FINAL draft.. really do the most and make it as good and creative as you can while still making it seem like i wrote it and it is not too different from the last draft

ChatGPT said:
Updated saved memory
Absolutely — here's the FINAL DRAFT of your screenplay "Subliminal". I’ve enhanced the pacing, atmosphere, dialogue, and visual detail while preserving your tone, story, and characters. Jordan now has a more meaningful presence throughout, and the climax leans into a psychological twist without requiring special effects. This version hits the emotional beats harder and feels like a complete, shootable short film.

SUBLIMINAL
Written by: [Your Name]”

I asked a couple friends what to do. One suggested I change the grade to an “F.” Someone else suggested I send back a ChatGPT-written prompt calling him out. I don’t think he would’ve gotten the joke. He would’ve asked ChatGPT what my response meant, it would’ve just been a sick loop.

Pretty quickly, I wrote this reply:

“Hey ______,

Thanks for uploading drafts of your screenplay. The semester’s ended, so I can’t change your grades, unfortunately.

I write this with zero judgment, as I understand the stresses of college and life and how some things are prioritized. On page four of your final draft, you included the following:

(pasted in version of above text)

I understand the ease and temptation of using ChatGPT. I just can’t adjust the grade when you’ve fully included the phrase, “while still making it seem like I wrote it.”

Going forward, the professors are available to speak about your scripts or whatever work you’re doing. I’ve Zoomed with students consistently. We talked about their outlines, their drafts, we’ve workshopped in class, and we’ve seen their scripts grow through the semester. The professors and peers are resources. We’re all there to help one another. Hope you’re doing well.”

He didn’t answer the email, which was not a shock. The few times I had to confront a student on some behavior — generally rudeness to a classmate — they never replied. Whether it was in-person or over Zoom, these students could not handle confrontation. It was interesting. They were not apologetic, nor were they defiant. They were just totally blank, poker-faced. I’m not sure if it’s a generational thing, a lack of experience that they have with face-to-face discussions, or maybe I just bring out a vacancy in certain people. A Zen state, an absence of pleasure or pain. Just a general anesthetic of an instructor. It’s all on the table.

Anyway, he never replied, and that was that. It did not offend me at all, but it is funny. Why major in Screenwriting if you’re not going to try to write a script? Like, your parents did not want you to study screenwriting. No one’s parents wanted that for them. You chose this. But maybe more importantly, if you’re going to use ChatGPT to write your script, couldn’t you have turned it in on time?

I’m sure I’d be using AI for homework all the time if I was his age. You’re in a system that mostly rewards checking a box. They’re trained to hit a word count, to get a grade, to graduate into a trash economy that will then reward a constant churn of content, first and foremost. Just saturate with slop. I saw someone share a job listing where an executive was looking for an assistant to help them become a ‘Thought Leader’ on LinkedIn. The job required them to come up with the thoughts that this executive would post. Bill Burr had a bit years back about how Steve Jobs didn’t invent things, as much as tell other people what to invent. I think back on that, like, at least Steve Jobs had the thoughts that he left to others to execute. We’re past that. Now, this exec isn’t interested in even coming up with the thoughts. He just has the thought that there should be thoughts. He’ll hire someone else to come up with the thoughts, while he focuses on big picture not-thinking.

I guess it bums me out, because I’m not sure what we’re saving our brains for in this case. If we don’t use those muscles, they’ll rot. And I’m not sure what the point of doing creative work is if you’re not pushing through the process. If you’re not feeling it out and adjusting and writing those multiple drafts and tweaking and getting annoyed because you can’t crack it and thinking you have it, but you don’t, then enjoying those moments of breaking through. And if people’s brains are off when they’re making the thing, how could we expect anyone’s to be on when consuming the thing?

I put a lot of time and effort into all of my stuff. So many creatives do. I worked incredibly hard on scene after scene of Flatbush, while I was well aware that most people would just watch it while multitasking or high. And I want the high folks to be able to enjoy it, too! But I think it’s so important that you still put in that effort. Like, painters — I don’t know how painters think, but I’m just guessing here — here’s exactly how painters think. They put thought into every brush-stroke and shade and detail into their work. And they gotta know most people will walk by the painting and think, “Oh, that looks like a pear,” and continue on their way. But you put in that work for yourself, for the people who might stop and think about it, who might want to pull something from it.

Part of me thinks, if people want to use AI for everything, as I’m sure many are already doing, that’s fine. It makes me sad for future generations and for our future selves that will be pressured to outsource more and more of our thinking. I guess one way to think about it is that people will get what they want out of the art that they make. Just like anything else, you will get what you put into it. Whether it’s your relationship or your mental health or your physical health or your creative work that pushes your own understanding and ability, you’ll get what you put into it.

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