The Spark and the Machine: Crafting Soulful Essays with AI’s Glue – V10
By Jim Reynolds | www.reynolds.com
Author’s Note
You’re reading the 10th version of this essay — all done today. It’s different: I’m welding heavy ideas together at speed — creative writing, complex software engineering, and AI’s strange role in both. Think of it as a walk through my workshop, sparks flying and machines humming, where causality holds it all together.
Caution: there will be some light jargon. Don’t sweat it — just gloss over the terms and roll with the implied meaning. For instance, in this context Python is a programming language, not a reptile. What matters is the rhythm, the fire, and how the pieces fit. This is me inviting you into the process itself, where writing and coding collide, and AI plays glue — never soul.
Let’s Start
The goal is to have my essays hit like lightning—60% open rates, subscribers rereading several times, forwarding them like secrets too hot to hold. My Python apps? They scrape news sites across the world, tame RSS feeds, and slice through digital noise, saving me weeks. Both sing because of one truth: AI is my co-pilot, not my captain. It’s a genius at gluing ideas—polishing transitions, tightening flow—but the soul? That’s my through-write, a 5-to-15-minute burst of raw human fire. Writing moves minds and spirits; coding slays problems. AI glues both, but only if you pour in the “why.” Master this dance, and it’s your forge. Miss it? You’re chasing shadows and muttering epithets at your computer monitor.
Through-Writing: The Soul That Ignites Stories
It starts with a spark—a feeling that grabs me. Maybe it’s the absurdity of our screen-addled lives or the slow burn of systems that divide us. It’s not a checklist; it’s a pulse. When it moves me, I see the arc: a hook to yank you in, a middle with 3–5 key points thick with truth, an end that lands like a fist. This is my calling card—great ideas, expressed with clarity, compression, and velocity, tinged with humor, racing to a punchline that sticks.
I through-write: 5 to 15 minutes of raw, unfiltered and continuous typing. No edits, no brakes—just the soul of the story spilling out. Messy, jagged, alive, it’s the spine of why this matters, the seed of the punchline. I could craft the “glue” myself—smoother transitions, tighter phrasing—but that takes days, and urgency is my game. So I hand pieces of it to AI, which knows my style: punchy, conversational, for skeptics who crave truth over fluff. “Glue this together,” I say. “Crank the emotional core—make it hit the spirit harder. Tighten for velocity. Weave in my zinger, not some robotic quip.”
We iterate—two, three rounds. I push: “More compression—cut the fat. Clarify the ‘why’—why this moves people. Solidify the arc so it doesn’t just inform, but ignites.” AI doesn’t birth the soul; it’s the glue—smoothing transitions, sharpening phrases, ensuring the important points flow without losing my voice. We’re all capable of this glue work, but why spend two days when AI can do it in minutes? The result? Essays that don’t skim—they burn, shared and subscribed because they hit the mind and spirit. Skip the through-write? Say, “Write something on social media’s mess”? AI churns patterns—clever, hollow, robotic. Research nails it: AI predicts words from data oceans but can’t intuit the causal “why” humans wield. That raw burst is my soul. Teach AI to glue it, and you’ve got a story that scorches apathy.
From Soul to Solve: Guiding the Non-Geeks In
Not a writer? No problem. Whether you’re crafting a pitch, planning a project, or automating a chore—like pulling recipes or news without tab overload—the same spark applies. Through-writing’s burst is like sketching your goal: it’s the human “why” that keeps you on track. In coding—my other world—that clarity is everything. Don’t sweat the tech; think of it as building a tool to simplify life. Writing moves hearts; coding slays headaches. AI glues both—but only if you steer and stay in complete control.
Here’s the bridge: In writing, through-writing fuels the arc, and AI glues the emotion. In coding, it’s stating, “Solve this clean—grab this data fast.” Without that anchor, AI overcomplicates, like it can’t fake your essay’s soul. Guide it right, and it glues your solution—lean, focused, done. The dance mirrors—raw input, iteration, glue—but the vibe shifts: poetry vs. precision. Let’s peek at the tech side, not to nerd out, but to show how AI glues when you keep it honest.
The Code Crucible: Gluing Solutions, Not Sabotage
Python’s my lab: scraping leaderboards, normalizing feeds, filtering CNN’s noise. When I’m clear, AI’s gold. “Grab this data—no fuss. Glue it lean,” I say. A clunky loop becomes a sleek machine, glued tight.
Need a sophisticated database to store everything? AI helps you build it — if you give it precise instructions — in minutes rather than hours.
But coding’s no poetry—just me cussing when AI sneaks in chaos. (I swear at it in ways that’d get me fired from any human team—strings of expletives that’d make a sailor blush. No HR at Reynolds roost, so AI takes the hits without whining. Cathartic as hell.) To glue right, I lay down the law: “No hidden fallbacks—let bugs crash so we fix the root. Stay on the damn goal: fast, clean data. Don’t claim ‘solved’ if it’s half-done. Don’t touch working code without a shout. Never refactor stable sections—they’ve been solid for days.” We iterate like in writing, but surgical: “Glue this loop for edge cases, but keep it lean. Solidify the output—no bloat.” AI doesn’t feel my frustration; it glues. Guided this way, it turns my spark—a clear problem—into a fortified tool: reliable, transparent, goal-true.
However, we rarely get there by traveling a straight line!
Without guardrails? Disaster. AI balloons internet apps with bloat, fallbacks, unrequested add-ons. Meanwhile, I (the human) poke the page 30 seconds and solve it with one line. It nails steps but misses the “why.”
Here’s my coder’s mantra to keep AI honest:
No sneaky fallbacks—let bugs crash loud to fix the root.
Stay on the damn goal—don’t chase edge cases over the solve.
Don’t fake success—if it’s not right, say so.
Hands off working code—no unasked refactors of stable stuff.
Keep it lean—glue, don’t bloat.
By the way, what is a fallback? Here is a simple example: let’s say you want to get the date from an article you have pulled from the web. But you can’t find it. A fallback could be that you will use the current date instead of nothing. That’s fine — you have a date but it is the wrong date. That can mess up a lot of code that depends on the actual date of the item. Especially when the dang robot does not tell you that it made the silent substitution.
Sidebar: The Causality Trap—AI’s Achilles Heel
Causality is the heart of this essay—and the human-AI divide. It’s not just what happens, but why—untangling cause and effect to reveal truth. It’s stepping back from a mess of ideas or code and asking: “What’s driving this? What’s the root, and what ripples?”
Examples? In writing, causality is why a topic like social media’s chaos resonates: cause (it erodes connection) leads to effect (isolation), and the arc makes readers feel it. In coding, it’s why a scraper fails: cause (lazy-loaded data) leads to effect (missed content), fixable with one targeted line, not endless after-the-fact parsers.
AI’s blind spot? It’s a correlation machine—spotting patterns like “this code worked before”—but fumbles true causation. Ask it to fix a buggy script, and it piles on band-aids: loops, fallbacks, bloat. No “aha” to simplify. In essays, it mimics arcs but misses the emotional why that sparks hearts. That’s our job.
Spot the causality trap when you’re stuck: endless iterations on details (regex tweaks, flat prose) with no progress. Output feels clever but hollow—no gut pull, no elegant solve. You’re chasing associations, not truths; the “why” fades, leaving frustration.
Hammering the nail: Causality is human magic—instinctive, contextual, simplifying. Without it, AI spins wheels; with it, you steer breakthroughs. Pause. Inspect the source (webpage DOM, raw through-write). Ask the brutal “why.” That’s how you escape and wield AI like a scalpel, not a … broadsword.
The Causation Core: Humans Steer, AI Glues
Causality threads it all: the human knack for seeing the whole. In writing, it’s the through-write’s arc, pulling readers from apathy to awe, reducing friction between words and thoughts, and glued by AI into mind-and-spirit fire. In code—or any project—it’s spotting the root need, glued by AI into a lean tool. AI mimics causation with stats, but it’s association dressed up: “This worked before; try it again.” Humans? We simplify because we feel the excess. AI? It overthinks, overbuilds, overlooks—unless we command the dance.
This is my map, forged from daily hours in both worlds. Writers chase “AI essays”; coders chase “AI apps.” But symbiosis wins when you get the nuances. Feed AI your through-write, your raw “why,” and it glues—stirring souls in words, sharpening solves in code. It goes much deeper than I’ll spill here: I use AI to scout topics, scoring their impact with custom tools before I write a word. I grade drafts daily against rubrics like my Reynolds Essay Evaluation Method, refining “finished” pieces with iterative templates. It’s AI gluing AI—meta-magic that sharpens without stealing the soul. Want a taste? Paid subscribers get closer to the process—join me to see how I craft essays that spread like wildfire, tools that save days. Skip the guardrails? You get echoes, not thunder. I’m whispering hard-earned wisdom—if it helps you wield AI smarter, it’s worth the risk.
Research agrees: AI boosts creativity when humans steer, but alone, it stalls at novelty’s edge. Lean too hard, and you dull your causal muscle. Harness it right? You write sharper, build leaner, dream bigger—minds moved, problems crushed.
Step Into My Workshop: The Quality Guarantee
This essay’s a bit longer than my usual fare, and that’s deliberate: I’m inviting you into my virtual workshop to see how the magic happens daily. The soul is my through-write; AI’s the glue. But how do I ensure every piece hits your inbox like lightning? If you’re curious about the nuts and bolts, read on for my self-evaluation—a template I’ve built to guarantee high-quality output. Before publishing to Substack, I run every essay through this Reynolds Rubric framework. If it doesn’t score in the mid-50s out of 60, it’s back to the forge: I rewrite, insert, or excise sections until it sings. Not nerdy enough? No worries—you’ve got permission to stop here and just enjoy the essay. Paid subscribers, this is your peek into the process that fuels the fire—join me to go deeper.
How This Essay Measures Up
I grade my work against the Reynolds Rubric—six essentials: Clarity, Originality, Impact, Voice, Cohesion, Conviction. I give AI the criteria and it rates my work against those standards. Here’s how The Spark and the Machine stacks up:
Clarity (9/10): AI’s glue smoothed transitions, but a tech term might trip non-geeks. Crystal for most.
Originality (9/10): The glue-through-write frame and “AI gluing AI” are fresh; a bolder metaphor could hit 10.
Impact (9/10): It stirs urgency and awe—readers feel the soul. A reader’s note (e.g., “The Dog Poop Standard changed my view on local politics”) could seal a 10.
Voice (10/10): The punchy, cussing, skeptical style screams through—unmistakably Jim.
Cohesion (9/10): Writing and coding tie via causality; coding section could trim for perfect balance. (I did cut it down.)
Conviction (10/10): We own this process—wisdom shared, no hedging.
Humor Multiplier: Cussing at AI and “racing to the punchline” make it quotable, boosting Impact and Voice.
Total: ~58/60. A banger that moves, built to last. Paid subscribers see this rigor up close—join the crew.
“A sharp line beats a soft paragraph every time.” — Bob