I just read an article that said AI had already reached a “soft singularity.” The singularity was supposed to be the point when artificial intelligence surpassed human intelligence, triggering rapid, uncontrollable technological growth and change. I guess the soft version of that is just more pettable?
I continue to explore AI’s connection to screenwriting tentatively. It would be stupid for me not to. I have to stay up-to-date on this thing. And I will say that the latest thing I’ve learned about it is that it’s amazing at combating writer’s block.
Writer’s block is a weird thing because, on the surface, it’s this blockage that happens when you can’t come up with what to write next – whether that be a paragraph, a scene, an act, a screenplay. You’re creatively blocked from imagining what to write.
But, over the years, I learned that writer’s block is actually more complex than that. It wouldn’t be wrong to term it as, “Writer’s Mental Block.” Because it often takes the form of a lack of belief in one’s self. You don’t feel like writing matters because you don’t believe that your best will be good enough. So you don’t write at all.
This is something I’ve battled with in the past. I’ve read so many screenplays that I know exactly where that “professional” bar is. And if I’m writing something that’s below that bar, I tell myself, “What’s the point?”
So, there are other components to this than simply not knowing what to write next. However, if you can put those aside and tackle the problem of what to write next logically, AI becomes a huge help.
Here’s all you have to do. Let’s say you’re writing a short story. It’s about a guy who’s looking for his missing brother. You start writing a scene from the story but, immediately, you don’t like where it’s going. We’ve all been there. The scene feels off. We’re not coming into it the right way or we’re relying too much on a cliched situation. So we stop writing. And we don’t want to go back in because we know it’s only going to get worse. This is always how long bouts of writer’s block begin.
Instead of letting the dark cloud of writer’s block overtake you, throw what you have into your favorite AI and ask it to write the rest of the scene for you. You can give it parameters as well. You can say, “make it weird.” “Have something unexpected happen.” “Make the main character come across a clue he wasn’t expecting.”
Here’s how the scene in question might start off on my end…
Nick walked into his brother’s apartment. A single dim light from an old lamp was still on in the corner. The small one-bedroom apartment was unusually clean, as if a cleaning service had just come through here yesterday. Nick began to look around.
Let’s say that’s all I came up with. Normally, I’d say, “That’s cliche and boring. I’m going to go order DoorDash and watch Love Island.” But now, with AI, you can fight that stranglehold of writer’s block by placing this in the AI and tell it what I just mentioned above. When I do that, this is what it comes back with.
**************
Nick walked into his brother’s apartment. A single dim light from an old lamp was still on in the corner. The small one-bedroom apartment was unusually clean, as if a cleaning service had just come through here yesterday. Nick began to look around.
The air smelled faintly of lavender and bleach. Nick opened a drawer in the kitchen and found utensils perfectly arranged, like a stock photo. Even the junk drawer was spotless — every battery, rubber band, and crumpled receipt was gone.
He moved to the living room. No dust. No crumbs. No dirty socks curled under the couch. His brother was messy, always had been. Jake once let a banana rot in the sink for a week just to see what color it would turn. This? This wasn’t him.
Something crunched beneath his foot.
Nick stepped back. A dry leaf. Brown and brittle, like it had blown in from some forest trail. But Jake lived on the fourth floor. No balcony. No plants.
Weird.
He crouched down and noticed something else: the edge of a rug near the entertainment center was slightly curled up. Not by much, but enough that it looked… lifted. Recently.
Nick pulled it back.
A hole.
A perfect square cut into the floorboards, maybe two feet across. Covered by a sheet of black metal with a single strip of duct tape sealing one edge.
His stomach tightened. Jake didn’t own tools. Or duct tape.
With a breath, Nick peeled back the metal. Beneath it wasn’t another floorboard. It was a box. Or a safe. No—some kind of old tin container, like an ammunition case. Green, scratched, military-looking. On the top was a sticker, faded but legible:
PROPERTY OF: J. KENDRICK
RETURN TO BASE OR DESTROY
Nick’s heart thudded. Kendrick was their mother’s maiden name. Jake had never used it. And what “base”? What was this?
He reached for the latch.
Then something buzzed behind him. Loud and fast.
Nick spun around.
The bathroom fan had just turned on.
No one had touched it.
**************
Now, here’s the irony of the next step of this process: DON’T USE THE SCENE THAT AI GAVE YOU. Why? Because it’s always the version of the scene that most writers would write. Something hidden under the rug? Really? How many millions of times have you seen that trope? You want to look for ways into scenes that ONLY YOU CAN WRITE.
The purpose of having AI flesh out a scene you had writer’s block on is to see if it comes up with anything that can generate new ideas. You’re trying to jumpstart your writer’s engine again so you’ll keep writing. Continuing to write is always better than not writing.
So, when I look at AI’s scene, I try and identify anything that I wouldn’t have thought of. Then I see if I can spin any of those things into story beats that I like. The dry leaf, for example. I definitely wouldn’t have thought of that. I probably wouldn’t use the leaf in my story. But I like the idea of a seemingly normal object that shouldn’t be there.
Maybe, if this was set in Portland, Nick finds a New York City subway token on the floor. His brother has never been to New York. This now gets me thinking about his brother’s past, which I may realize I don’t know enough about. What if his brother lived in New York briefly? What was he doing there? Why did he leave? Already, my story’s world is building in my mind.
None of this has to stick right now. It just has to get you back into writing mode. Anything that gets you thinking – that gets you excited to go back into the scene – is a plus. If it doesn’t work, that’s fine. Again, writing is better than not writing. So the fact that you’re rewriting the scene trying out this new direction is a huge plus.
As for the mystery box under the rug, I’m not interested in a military conspiracy so this is a no-go for me. But might there be a small box of something else his brother kept in his closet? Something more personal? Again, the AI is making me think of other potential story beats, which is all it needs to achieve success.
And this is where I want to make the big distinction with AI. It’s not good at writing stories. It’s okay at writing cliched ‘seen it before’ scenarios. But you don’t want to trust it to write scenes for you. However, it can be great at getting you thinking about your stories in ways you weren’t expecting. Which is why it’s the perfect tool for writer’s block.
So, the next time you come to me and say, “I can’t finish my script in time for Mega Showdown, Carson. I can’t figure it out.” You’re not going to get any sympathy from me. I just gave you the tool that eliminates the writer’s block excuse. Now get back to writing!
