Dearest Gentle Reader, It Still Takes Me All Day

Let me walk you through something.

Because if you ever sat next to me while I’m writing a blog post, you might think: “This is chaos.” 

And… you wouldn’t be wrong.

There are voice notes. There are fragments of half-formed thoughts. There’s a chat window open where I’m typing things like, “Okay wait, I’m thinking of this but also this, what category is that?”

And then there’s me, wandering off to do something else entirely, only to yell from the bathroom, “WAIT! Add this to the outline!”

Welcome to Brain Office. We’re a little disorganized, but we get things done eventually.

When I start a new piece, whether it’s a blog, a lesson, or something bigger. I begin by unloading every chaotic thought that’s been pinging around my mental filing room.

Some get typed. Some get dictated into voice memos. Some get tossed into the AI chat while I’m literally doing something else (usually sitting somewhere I shouldn’t be writing from, like a toilet or the car wash).

These fragments don’t make sense to anyone else, not even me sometimes.

But they’re real. They’re mine. They matter.

And once I’ve got enough of them floating around, I ask AI:

“Can you organize this into an outline?” 

“Do these belong together?” 

“Help me structure this before my brain implodes.”

And it does. 

Not flawlessly.

Not magically.

But well enough for me to focus on one file drawer at a time instead of getting steamrolled by the whole archive.

From there, I go paragraph by paragraph.

I sift through the notes.

I talk things out with AI like I’m in a meeting with a very agreeable intern.

Sometimes, when Head Office is especially overwhelmed (short-staffed, lights flickering, doors jammed), I’ll ask AI for a few examples—usually for intros or transitions, which are not my brain’s strong suit.

But let’s be clear:

I write the whole thing. Every word. Every sentence.

 AI isn’t ghostwriting my voice. It’s just tossing me sticky notes and whispering, “Maybe like this?” while I do all the actual work.

It helps me get my thoughts into order but the ideas, the feelings, the point? That’s all me.

Once it’s written, I bring AI back in for proofreading. Spelling. Sentence structure. Fixing the occasional runaway paragraph that reads like it got lost on the way to another article.

And then I read the whole thing out loud. Checking for rhythm, tone, weird duplicates, or phrases that don’t sound like me. 

Because if it doesn’t feel like mine, it doesn’t go out.

That’s the rule.

Now here’s the part people don’t get:

If you watched me work, you might think I’m cheating. You’d see all the back-and-forth with AI. You’d see me asking for structure help and sample transitions. You’d assume it’s doing the heavy lifting.

But if I’m cheating, why does it still take me all day?

Why am I still exhausted by the end of it?

Why do I still feel like I’m crawling through an emotional obstacle course with a megaphone yelling “WRITE FASTER” while my brain throws glitter, confusion, and outdated metaphors everywhere?

Because it’s not cheating. 

It’s accommodating. 

t’s learning how to write with a brain that doesn’t work in a straight line and doesn’t like being bossed around by a blank page.

If you’re neurodivergent and you’ve ever thought, “My process is too messy to be real,” or “If I use AI to help, it doesn’t count” I’m going to stop you right there.

It counts.

You’re still doing the work. 

You’re still the one making the decisions. 

You’re still the one dragging the file carts down the hallway of your mental office, even if some of the drawers are duct-taped shut.

I get why people are afraid of AI. I do. But tools aren’t the enemy. Shame is. And we’ve been taught to be ashamed of needing help. Even when that help is exactly what allows us to show up in the first place.

It’s not cheating.

It’s not lazy.

It’s not replacing you.

It’s a tool.

Just like your phone. 

Just like a calendar. 

Just like that one weird trick you use to remember what day it is.

You’re still the writer. 

You’re still the voice. 

AI just helps your brain get the files to the right desk in time for the deadline.

Currently procrastinating via this letter,

The Viscountess of Too Many Tabs and Too Many Feelings