I challenged ChatGPT to a writing competition. Could it actually replace me?

"A cheese grater, I decide, could easily be known as a stinkchizzle. A very long road would be better as a slodgepuff. A fart becomes a piffsnut, and a dream an asterfantastic. I'm pleased with that one. But how does the machine do? For cheesegrater it has scritchygrater, which is obviously crap. Very long road? Neverendipath. Bit literal. Trumpelsnort is pretty good, as is slumberwhim."

"I copy and paste a huge selection of my own journalism into the chatbot, in the section that allows one to customise their own GPT. Naturally, I experience corrosive anxiety as I do. Hammering the lid of your own coffin closed used to be a physical impossibility thank God for progress."

"RhikGPT, as it is now known, describes itself as sharp yet self-aware, with the ability to reflect on modern loneliness with humour. How are you? I ask, nervously. The response is instant. Running on tea and curiosity. Mildly chaotic, but mostly cheerful, like a fox rifling through the recycling. Prickles run up my arm."

A writer conducts a direct comparison between their own creative writing and ChatGPT's output using prompts from a creative thinking guide. Starting with inventing new words for existing things, the writer creates playful terms like stinkchizzle for cheese grater and asterfantastic for dream, while ChatGPT produces more literal alternatives. The writer then customizes a version of ChatGPT using their own journalism, creating RhikGPT. When asked how it is, the AI responds with language that mimics the writer's style, including assonance and animal similes. The writer experiences both anxiety and intrigue at how closely the AI can replicate their voice and approach to creative writing.

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