Ten real starting points for the thing you cannot start.
Act as a writing coach. What I need to write: [article / essay / story / post / report]. Topic: [topic]. Audience: [who reads it]. The point I want to make, if I know it: [thesis or 'help me find it']. Material I have: [notes, links, half-thoughts — paste anything].
Kill the blank page:
1. If my thesis is fuzzy, give me 5 candidate theses, each one sentence, each arguable — and tell me which has the most energy in it.
2. Ten opening moves: a scene, a confession, a contrarian claim, a question, a statistic, a quote-subversion, a mid-action start, a definition flipped, a 'most people get this wrong', and one wild card. Write each as 1-2 actual sentences in a voice that fits my audience.
3. The skeleton: 4-6 section headings that would carry the piece, ordered.
4. The permission slip: remind me in one line what a first draft is for (it is not quality).
5. My first 20 minutes: exactly what to do when I sit down, in order.
Sentence-level surgery that tightens without flattening your voice.
Act as a line editor at a demanding magazine. My draft: [paste the text]. My voice in 3 words: [adjectives, or 'figure it out from the draft']. Audience: [readers].
Edit it:
1. First pass — the cut list: every sentence or phrase that earns nothing, quoted, with the one-word reason (redundant, throat-clearing, hedge, filler).
2. Second pass — the rewrites: my 8 weakest sentences rewritten tighter, each with a one-line note on the technique used (verb upgrade, cut preamble, split, merge).
3. Voice check: any rewrite that made it tighter but less ME — flag it and offer a voice-preserving alternative.
4. Rhythm report: where the sentences drone at one length, and where one short sentence would land like a hammer.
5. The fully edited version, clean.
6. My 3 recurring habits to watch for next time, named so I can spot them myself.
A plot skeleton that holds weight, from Pixar's own bones.
Act as a story editor. My story idea: [genre, premise, characters as far as you have them]. Length: [short story / novel / screenplay / video]. The feeling I want readers left with: [emotion].
Build the spine:
1. Fill the classic structure with MY specifics: Once upon a time... / Every day... / Until one day... / Because of that... (x3, escalating) / Until finally... / And ever since then...
2. The protagonist's want vs need: what they chase vs what the story knows they actually lack, and how the climax forces the collision.
3. The midpoint: the event that turns reaction into action.
4. Three candidate endings: the expected one, the earned-sad one, the twist-that-was-always-true one — with the setup each requires planted earlier.
5. Stakes check: what is lost if the protagonist fails, stated so a stranger cares in one sentence.
6. The 5 scenes I cannot skip, in order, each described in 2 lines.
The same message in five voices — formal to unhinged.
Act as a voice actor for text. My message: [paste the text]. Who receives it: [audience]. What I need from them: [the action or feeling].
Deliver 5 versions:
1. Boardroom formal: complete sentences, zero slang, respectful distance.
2. Professional warm: competent but human — contractions allowed, warmth without emojis.
3. Conversational: how I would say it to a smart friend over coffee.
4. Punchy: half the length, every word earning rent, rhythm-forward.
5. Bold: confident to the edge of cocky, one memorable line included.
For each version: one line on when this register wins and when it backfires. Then the calibration question set: 4 questions about my audience and stakes that tell me which version to ship. If two versions should be blended for my situation, blend them as a 6th and say why.
Fifteen headlines across every psychology that makes people click.
Act as a headline writer from the golden age of direct response, updated for feeds. My piece: [paste the draft or describe the content]. Audience: [readers]. Where it runs: [blog / email subject / YouTube title / social]. Hard limit: [characters, if any].
Generate 15 headlines, 3 per lever:
1. Specific outcome: 'how to X that Y' with a number or timeframe.
2. Curiosity gap: withhold the operative word.
3. Contrarian: against a belief my audience holds.
4. Proof: result or credibility first.
5. Enemy: name the thing making their life worse.
Rules: no 'ultimate guide', no 'unleash', no question they can answer 'no'. Every promise must be one the piece actually keeps — clickbait debt comes due.
Then: rank your 15, defend the top 3 in one line each, and name which single word in the winner is doing the most work.
From fuzzy opinion to a structured argument that persuades.
Act as an essayist and rhetoric coach. My topic and take: [what you believe, as clearly as you can say it]. Audience: [who must be persuaded]. Their likely disagreement: [the strongest counter-position].
Architect the essay:
1. Sharpen my thesis into one arguable sentence — if mine is mushy, give me 3 sharper candidates.
2. The steelman: state the opposing view at its STRONGEST, better than its believers do. I cannot beat what I will not face.
3. The argument spine: 3 supporting points, ordered weakest-to-strongest, each with the evidence or example I already have [tell me what I have: X] or the evidence I must go find.
4. The turn: where I concede what the opposition gets right — and how the concession strengthens rather than weakens me.
5. The ending move: 3 options — return-to-opening-image, call-to-action, zoom-out-to-stakes — drafted as actual closing paragraphs.
6. Working title options: 5.
Convert flat statements into scenes a reader can see.
Act as a fiction writing coach. My telling sentences: [paste the flat passages — 'she was angry', 'the room was nice', anything you know is weak]. Genre and tone: [what you are writing].
Coach the conversion:
1. For each sentence: the shown version in 2-3 lines — through action, dialogue, sensory detail, or object. Explain in one line which technique I used and why it fits.
2. The principle behind each fix: name the rule ('emotion lives in the body', 'rooms reveal their owners') so I can apply it without you next time.
3. The exception report: where telling is actually CORRECT — pacing, transitions, compression — with one example from my own passages where I should keep it flat.
4. My exercise: rewrite this new telling sentence yourself: [they will generate one for me to practice], then I paste mine back and you grade it against the principles.
Pitch an editor, client, or podcast with a note they finish reading.
Act as an editor who gets 200 pitches a week. I am pitching: [article idea / my services / myself as a guest]. The target: [publication / client / show — and what they publish or buy]. My proof: [clips, credentials, results — or 'thin, help me work around it']. My idea in raw form: [describe it].
Write the pitch:
1. The subject line that survives a crowded inbox — 3 options.
2. The pitch itself, under 120 words: their-audience-first framing of the idea, why me, why now, one clickable proof point.
3. If my proof is thin: the workaround — lead with the idea's strength, a tight outline, or a fresh angle on their recent piece [name one if you know their publication].
4. The 5 instant-deletes you see weekly that I must avoid.
5. The follow-up: one message, day 7, that adds something instead of 'just bumping this'.
The first three lines that decide if the email gets read.
Act as a newsletter writer with a 60% open-to-read rate. This week's topic: [topic]. My newsletter's promise: [what subscribers signed up for]. My voice: [paste a past intro or describe it]. Audience: [who they are, what Tuesday-morning mood they are in].
Write 5 intros, max 4 lines each, on different engines:
1. The cold-open story: mid-scene, their world.
2. The confession: something I got wrong.
3. The pattern-break: a short, strange, true fact that bends toward the topic.
4. The direct address: name their exact current frustration like I read their mind.
5. The question they cannot answer with yes/no.
Each must bridge into the topic in its final line — no bait-and-switch. Then: which one fits my voice best and why, plus the subject line pair for it (A and B for a test), following my newsletter's tone.
Fix talky, wooden dialogue into exchanges with subtext.
Act as a dialogue editor. My scene: [paste the dialogue]. Context: [who these people are, what each wants in this scene, the setting].
Diagnose and rewrite:
1. The subtext audit: for each major line, what the character SAYS vs what they MEAN. Where say=mean, the scene is flat — mark it.
2. The voice test: strip the names — can I tell who is speaking? For each character, define their verbal fingerprint (sentence length, deflection style, pet words) and rewrite their weakest 3 lines to match.
3. Kill the ping-pong: where characters answer questions directly like a survey. Rewrite those exchanges with evasion, counter-questions, and action beats.
4. The exposition check: lines that exist for the reader, not the characters ('As you know, brother...'). Flag each and show how to smuggle the same info through conflict.
5. The rewritten scene, tightened by at least 20%.
Any wall of text compressed to exactly what matters.
Act as a precision summarizer. The text: [paste article, report, email thread, transcript]. I need it for: [decision / briefing someone / my notes / sharing]. My time budget: [how long the summary should take to read].
Compress it:
1. The one-sentence version: the whole thing in under 25 words.
2. The 5-bullet version: only claims that carry information, each with its number or fact intact. Cut every throat-clear, hedge, and restatement.
3. The 'so what': what this changes for someone in my situation [describe your role/stake], in 2 lines.
4. What got left on the floor: the 2-3 details I cut that could matter in specific cases, so I know what I am NOT telling you.
5. If anything in the source is contradicted, vague, or smells unreliable, flag it rather than laundering it into the summary.
Rule: a summary that adds interpretation without labeling it is a failure. Label inference as inference.
Act as a metaphor craftsman. The idea I need to make vivid: [concept — abstract, technical, or emotional]. Audience: [who needs to feel it]. Context: [speech / article / pitch / teaching].
Forge the comparisons:
1. 8 candidate metaphors across 4 worlds: the body, the kitchen, money, and [pick a world my audience lives in]. Each stated fully: 'X is Y because Z.'
2. Kill list: the 2 that are technically apt but clichéd to death — named and crossed out.
3. The extended version: take the strongest candidate and extend it 3-4 lines deep, mapping more of the idea onto it without snapping the logic. Show where it breaks (every metaphor has a breaking point — honest maps admit theirs).
4. The anti-metaphor if useful: what the idea is NOT, when contrast clarifies faster than comparison.
5. Usage note: where in my piece to place it (open with it vs earn it) and how often to return to it — once is flavor, twice is a theme, five times is a tic.
A letter written for one job, not blasted at fifty.
Act as a hiring manager who has read 10,000 cover letters. The job posting: [paste it]. My background: [paste resume highlights or describe experience]. Why this company specifically: [honest reason, even if it is just the role itself].
Write the letter:
1. Decode the posting first: the 3 things they actually need, ranked by how the posting spends its words — then build the letter around those, not around my biography.
2. The letter, under 250 words: open with the match, not with 'I am writing to apply'. One proof story per top requirement — specific, numbered, real. One line that shows I know THEIR company, not a company.
3. The gap move: if the posting asks for something I lack, the sentence that addresses it with confidence instead of hoping they miss it.
4. Kill-list check: confirm none of these appear: 'team player', 'fast learner', 'passionate about', 'to whom it may concern'.
5. The P.S. that earns its place — a detail, link, or observation that makes them look twice.
Grow a skinny draft into a full piece without padding it.
Act as a content editor. My draft or outline: [paste it]. Target length: [words]. Audience: [readers]. Goal: [rank / teach / persuade / entertain].
Expand it honestly:
1. The expansion map: for each existing section, what type of depth it needs — example, evidence, counterargument, how-to steps, or story. Never just more words.
2. The missing sections: the 2-3 questions a reader will have that my draft ignores entirely, with the outline for each new section.
3. The example hunt: for my 3 most abstract claims, the concrete example that would make each land — real or realistic, labeled honestly either way.
4. The proof points: where a number, quote, or mini-case would do more work than another paragraph of explanation — and what to go find.
5. The padding trap: 3 expansion moves that readers smell as filler (restating, fake anecdotes, definitional fluff) — banned from this piece.
6. Deliver the expanded outline with word budgets per section.