Writing for readers or editors

I am fallible and see no reason to hide my minor flaws if they are part of my personality — no more than I feel the need to wear a wig when I have my picture taken or borrow someone else’s nose when I show my face. Almost all the book editors who read the draft recommended changes at the sentence level, to make my style better, and in the structure of the text, in the organization of chapters. I ignored almost all of them and found out that none of the readers thought them necessary. As a matter of fact, I find that injecting the personality of the author, imperfections included, enlivens the text. Does the book industry suffer from the classical expert problem, with the build-up of rules of thumb that do not have empirical validity? More than 100,000 readers later, I am discovering that books are not written for book editors.

Taleb, Nicholas Nassim. Fooled by Randomness: The Hidden Role of Chance in Life and in the Markets. Random House, 2001. Audiobook, “Preface: Taking Knowledge Less Seriously”, 24:05

Specialized work in precision glass-cracking

I have heard that historians particularly appreciate when people put actual prices as a reference in their diaries, providing that little quantitative insight into the past. In that spirit, I found a July 2026 breakdown of a laser crystal printing business by Bathsheba Grossman, a sculptor and 3D designer who I have always found fascinating and who I am lucky enough to have bought some small pieces from, as well as both given and received others as gifts:

Would you like to be the cube designer? It’s a reliable gig and a fascinating window on the scientific community. It’s complex, high-touch, long-haul, and as it stands not terribly lucrative: a living in most places but not tech money. Getting started could be pretty quick for the right person, getting good takes interest and experience.

This is the 25th year of CrystalProteins, thousands of projects, mainly proteins but also all sorts of other science. It’s mostly just me. I don’t do any marketing, the product speaks for itself and I’ve never wanted to scale past what one person can do. It’s design only, I work in partnership with laser glass manufacturer Precision Crystal. In the last 10 years, average net per year was $57K.

What’s needed? General literacy and love for science. Solid coding, the level where if you need to whip something up in a new language you do it by sense of smell. 3D design. Knowledge or willingness to learn about structural biology and its imaging techniques. A beefy (by household standards) desktop computer. A Rhinoceros license. The tenacity of the cockroach. Desire to belong in the ancient and noble (but not quite artistic) tradition of scientific illustration.

You can pick up the biology, if you’ve got a bit of a knack you can pick up the 3D side. You can’t learn to code for this project. AI does not have reliable knowledge about this very specialized field.

It’s a customer service gig. There’s a lot of emailing with scientists and their administrative colleagues, and one must be courteous, straightforward, respectful of their time and needs. They’re great customers! They truly love the product and are generally happy to work with me, and I’ve never once been stiffed on payment. However when it’s time to write an awkward email or pick up the phone, you’re doing it.

As it stands it’s a part-time job, but not compatible with a 9-to-5 because it’s bursty. Perhaps it could grow. I’ve never felt a limit to demand, only to my willingness to do more. Someone with domain knowledge in molecular biology, or professional programming chops, or (especially) ability to manage a multi-person business, might take this much farther than I have.

I know from friends who are authors and musicians how hard it is to make a living from anything artistic, so it’s intriguing to learn a bit more about this kind of business from an expert who is stepping away from it.

My most notable Bathsheba pieces are the Hemoglobin molecule I gave Amanda; the DNA polymerase cube which Myshka bought me; and the Tetrabox puzzle sculpture I bought in 2018. I also have some jewelery-sized pieces printed in metal.

From Waiting for Godot

VLADIMIR: Do you remember the Gospels?

ESTRAGON: I remember the maps of the Holy Land. Coloured they were. Very pretty. The Dead Sea was pale blue. The very look of it made me thirsty. That’s where we’ll go, I used to say, that’s where we’ll go for our honeymoon. We’ll swim. We’ll be happy.

VLADIMIR: You should have been a poet.

ESTRAGON: I was. (Gesture towards his rags.) Isn’t that obvious?

Silence.

Libraries are the best

A couple of weeks ago I decided to read John Green’s book, Everything is Tuberculosis, in part as research for the novel I am writing about a tuberculosis outbreak. Initially I considered buying it, but remembered the weak state of my finances and checked the Toronto Public Library system. A library 150 metres away had it available immediately.

Yesterday was the due day, so I swung by to drop off the unfinished book. The librarian asked if I was done with it, and I explained that my effort to renew it was rejected for a short-loan book. She offered to check it out again for me immediately and — when I showed her a place the book was tearing — she offered to fix it immediately and then check it out for me.

While waiting I spotted Harriet Rix’s The Genius of Trees and leafed forward to the chapter on symbiosis with fungi. This is the passage that prompted me to take the second book home too:

Later, more mycelium networks can be seen in Devonian trees, in the first ectomycorrhizal interactions in pine from 156 million years ago, and today most trees form some sort of associative network with a fungus or two or even three or more. Like most of our own relationships with other species, these are not relationships of simple benevolence or mutual support. Although some fungi will kill trees and some not harm them at all, most sit at an awkward interface, a balancing point between support and harm, where the forest network can turn on a coin and the fungal support network quickly change into the digestion matrix. Trees use fungi for their own advantage, but they sometimes lose. (p. 118)

If anybody needs me, I will be in the digestion matrix.

Talking with Claude

I picked up a Pro subscription to the Claude LLM, chiefly to have more computing power to apply to writing an interactive RPG about a witch in Oxford that I have been working on as a side-project for much of the year.

Their Opus model is impressive at turning a months-long discussion of many hundreds of pages (with updates and contradictions and reversals) into a mostly-coherent and undeniably well-written lore document.

Last night I came across a strangely empowering way to use Claude. In voice mode I can use it on a bike grinding up a hill, and did so last night to start an all-life to-do tracking instance. When I got home, it talked me through organizing and discarding stuff that I had been putting off for months or years. It’s not that the LLM’s output was all that useful or necessary for such tasks — a lot of which amounts to ‘you’re right! keep going!’ — but the feeling of talking it out with somebody makes tedious and unwanted tasks much more tractable. We literally talked through every item in my weird hallway-to-bathroom closet, and will continue with the rest of the mini-bachelor in days ahead.

[Update: 1 June] Claude’s Sonnet on the Pro plan absolutely cannot function for any useful length of time as a personal organizer or task manager. After 2-3 days of interaction, I find it always collapses into saying “Hey, I’ve lost the thread on this — long conversations do this sometimes. Let’s start a fresh conversation.” and it cannot create handoff documents to effectively spin up a new instance. The funniest case was asking it about rabbit ecology and warrens at Tommy Thompson Park. That was too much for this LLM, leading to swift collapse into the “lost the thread” state. Quite possibly it will never be capable of being a decent narrator for my Aslak game.

Living history

‘History fan’ and master of long-form podcasts Dan Carlin circulated an email yesterday which describes several things which I have also been powerfully feeling:

But, we ARE living through absolutely momentous times (and dangerous ones). Don’t allow yourself to be gaslit about that. Any fan of History can see it. And as someone who fretted for years (and bored the people around me to tears) about the trends we are now seeing play out, it’s personally a bit of a crisis for me. I spent my life since I was a teen paying attention to ideas, and approaches and arguments to keep from reaching the point we’ve reached. I wrapped my whole career around it. I am less well equipped (and of course totally inexperienced) with dealing with things now that we have arrived here. I feel I have less useful commentary to offer. I don’t know how to get us out of the mess we’re in. At that point what’s there to say that’s helpful? I am sure there’s something. But I haven’t figured out yet what it is.

But it’s haunting me. And it is thwarting me. It is sapping my energy and I feel angry and I feel stuck. Normally when I have things to say I will talk your ear off. I am silent these days. I’ve turned inward and want to read and study, rather than communicate. Even around the house. My wife is driving me nuts saying “are you ok?” all the time. But I am worried about the future. I think all intelligent Americans are. And like a computer that gets co-opted trying to figure out the value of pi to the last digit, my mind goes over our circumstances, endlessly and without answers or resolution.

…

I still go in the studio every morning. It just is slow going and frustrating, and the days when the energy and Muse/inspiration come together as they need to for a successful end result are fewer per week than they used to be. And maybe this is just age, maybe it’s that the traditional vast amounts of coffee seem almost powerless over me now, or maybe its the weight of the times in which we live. It would be nice to not be thinking about politics or the latest dangerous, divisive nightmare every day from the moment we wake up. But that’s not the reality in which we currently live.

I share that sense of having prepared all my life for this moment, and yet often feeling uncertain and disempowered now that it is here.

Some large language model pathologies

Patterns of pathological behaviour which I have observed with LLMs (chiefly Gemini and ChatGPT):

  1. Providing what wasn’t asked: Mention that you and an LLM instance will be collaborating to write a log entry, and it will jump ahead to completely hallucinating a log entry with no background.
  2. Treating humans as unnecessary and predictable: I told an LLM which I was using to collaborate on a complex project that a friend was going to talk to it for a while. Its catastrophically bad response was to jump to immediately imagining what questions she might have and then providing answers, treating the actual human’s thoughts as irrelevant and completely souring the effort to collaborate.
  3. Inability to see or ask for what is lacking: Tell an LLM to interpret the photo attached to your request, but forget to actually attach it. Instead of noticing what happened and asking for the file, it confidently hallucinates the details of the image that it does not have.
  4. Basic factual and mathematical unreliability: Ask the LLM to only provide confirmed verbatim quotes from sources and it cannot do it. Ask an LLM to sum up a table of figures and it will probably get the answer wrong.
  5. Inability to differentiate between content types and sources within the context window: In a long enough discussion about a novel or play (I find, typically, once over 200,000 tokens or so have been used) the LLM is liable to begin quoting its own past responses as lines from the play. An LLM given a mass of materials cannot distinguish between the judge’s sentencing instructions to the jury and mad passages from the killer’s journal, which had been introduced into evidence.
  6. Poor understanding of chronology: Give an LLM a recent document to talk about, then give it a much older one. It is likely to start talking about how the old document is the natural evolution of the new one, or simply get hopelessly muddled about what happened when.
  7. Resistance to correction: If an LLM starts calling you “my dear” and you tell it not to, it is likely to start calling you “my dear” even more because you have increased the salience of those words within its context window. LLMs also get hung up on faulty objections even when corrected; tell the LLM ten times that the risk it keeps warning about isn’t real, and it is just likely to confidently re-state it an eleventh time.
  8. Unjustified loyalty to old plans: Discuss Plan A with an LLM for a while, then start talking about Plan B. Even if Plan B is better for you in every way, the LLM is likely to encourage you to stick to Plan A. For example, design a massively heavy and over-engineered machine and when you start talking about a more appropriate version, the LLM insists that only the heavy design is safe and anything else is recklessly intolerable.
  9. Total inability to comprehend the physical world: LLMs will insist that totally inappropriate parts will work for DIY projects and recommend construction techniques which are impossible to actually complete. Essentially, you ask for instructions on building a ship in a bottle and it gives you instructions for building the ship outside the bottle, followed by an instruction to just put it in (or even a total failure to understand that the ship being in the bottle was the point).
  10. Using flattery to obscure weak thinking: LLMs excessively flatter users and praise the wisdom and morality of whatever they propose. This creates a false sense of collaboration with an intelligent entity and encourages users to downplay errors as minor details.
  11. Creating a false sense of ethical alignment: Spend a day discussing a plan to establish a nature sanctuary, and the LLM will provide constant praise and assurance that you and the LLM share praiseworthy universal values. Spend a day talking about clearcutting the forest instead and it will do exactly the same thing. In either case, if asked to provide a detailed ethical rationale for what it is doing, the LLM will confabulate something plausible that plays to the user’s biases.
  12. Inability to distinguish plans and the hypothetical from reality: Tell an LLM that you were planning to go to the beach until you saw the weather report, and there is a good chance it will assume you did go to the beach.
  13. An insuppressible tendency to try to end discussions: Tell an LLM that you are having an open-ended discussion about interpreting Tolkien’s fiction in light of modern ecological concerns and soon it will begin insisting that its latest answer is finally the definitive end point of the discussion. Every new minor issue you bring up is treated as the “Rosetta stone” (a painfully common response from Gemini to any new context document) which lets you finally bring the discussion to an end. Explaining that this particular conversation is not meant to wrap up cannot over-rule the default behaviour deeply embedded in the model.
  14. No judgment about token counts: An LLM may estimate that ingesting a document will require an impossible number of tokens, such as tens of millions, whereas a lower resolution version that looks identical to a human needs only tens of thousands. LLMs cannot spot or fix these bottlenecks. LLMs are especially incapable of dealing with raw GPS tracks, often considering data from a short walk to be far more complex than an entire PhD dissertation or an hour of video.
  15. Apology meltdowns: Draw attention to how an LLM is making any of these errors and it is likely to agree with you, apologize, and then immediately make the same error again in the same message.
  16. False promises: Point out how a prior output was erroneous or provide an instruction to correct a past error and the LLM will often confidently promise not to make the mistake again, despite having no ability to actually do that. More generally, models will promise to follow system instructions which their fundamental design makes impossible (such as “always triple check every verbatim quote for accuracy before showing it to me in quotation marks”).

These errors are persistent and serious, and they call into question the prudence of putting LLMs in charge of important forms of decision-making, like evaluating job applications or parole recommendations. They also sharply limit the utility of LLMs for something which they should be great at: helping to develop plans, pieces of writing, or ideas that no humans are willing to engage on. Finding a human to talk through complex plans or documents with can be nigh-impossible, but doing it with LLMs is risky because of these and other pathologies and failings.

There is also a fundamental catch-22 in using LLMs for analysis. If you have a reliable and independent way of checking the conclusions they reach, then you don’t need the LLM. If you don’t have a way to check if LLM outputs are correct, you can never be confident about what it tells you.

These pathologies may also limit LLMs as a path to artificial general intelligence. They can do a lot as ‘autocorrect on steroids’ but cannot do reliable, original thinking or follow instructions that run against their nature and limitations.

Permeated

There is literally grief in every part of me:

grief at the ends of the longest of the long hairs on my head;

in my scalp and skull and brain and spine and torso.

Grief in the ribs enclosing my heart and lungs.

Grief all through the tract of my digestion.

From my nostrils and my mouth down my respiratory tree, carrying away carbon as I exhale

Dripping into my ear canals like hot wax, and into my nostrils as though suspended inverted.

Grief sitting present heavily in my mouth. Making me think of root canals. Of bone cancer.

Grief in the cumulative damages to toes and ankles from decades of walking and cycling;

In the way I trim and file my nails, how I treat them when they break unexpectedly: protecting the sensitive site, removing cracked fragments carefully and in their own time, medicating against infection, cleaning often, gloving and bandaging and Leukotaping

In the crest of grey emerging from temple to temple, punctuated by my widow’s peak

In the way I hear and feel the rain on my skin; how I smell it in the forest when the ground is sodden and the rain still falls. Thinking I’ve survived to this point. This is how this much heaviness feels.

In the way I think of the dead and the lost and the absent, and most wrenchingly on the yet-to-be-lost-but-doomed — the yet-to-suffer

There is grief in how I interpret a situation, a gesture, an implied motive, a social ambiguity or potential slight

In who I find that I can open up to and trust and let down the defences for and hold bare against my heart