I want AI to help me write, not to write for me. Recently I scripted a GitHub action that generates a new Moth-style story prompt for me each day. Here’s one below, and I’ll respond to it today.
Think of a time when a small, unassuming moment changed you in a big way. It might not have seemed significant at the time, but in hindsight, it sparked a transformation in your life. What was the moment, and how did it alter your path or perspective?
I was around 5 years old and had recently started at a new school—Northwick Manor in Worcester, UK. I wasn’t a very confident kid, and I don’t think I believed that I was capable of much. I’d come to this school from Gorse Hill, where the only friend I remember was the lunch lady.
I joined Northwick Manor starting with Reception, taught by the wonderfully kind Miss Scott. I didn’t have many friends yet, but I was glad to have another kind adult in my life. I didn’t feel much more confident yet, but Miss Scott would help me with that.
The one moment that’s always stuck with me was incredibly small and simple. I’d just changed back into my school shirt following P.E. class, and I was having a hard time doing the top button up. I’d struggled at my desk for what felt like forever, but I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t capable.
I walked over to Miss Scott’s desk and asked her if she could help. I told her that I’d tried, but that I just couldn’t do it myself. It was too hard. Impossible. I needed her to do it for me.
She said that she’d absolutely help, but that she had a funny feeling it was going to solve itself. She believed in magic, she said, and thought that if she closed her eyes and counted to ten, the button would somehow be done up once she opened her eyes.
With a small, warm smile, she closed her eyes and started counting (slowly) to ten. I realized of course that the button wouldn’t do itself up, so I’d better go about making it happen. I wasn’t going to be the one standing in the way of her belief in magic.
My small fingers wrestled with the button, the stiff collar getting in the way and making it even harder. I got so close a couple of times before the button slipped from my fingers. With a second to go, success! The button popped into place with a tiny, satisfying thunk.
When Miss Scott opened her eyes, she’d have seen me, beaming; almost vibrating with excitement and anxiety. I’d just pulled off magic, for goodness sake! In only ten (very long) seconds! She couldn’t believe it—she was overjoyed at the apparent sorcery that existed in the world.
After a few seconds of shared astonishment (mine because I’d done it, hers because—presumably—magic had happened), she sent me back to my desk, and I realized that in this one small way, I was capable. In this one small way, I didn’t need help. I could do it all by myself.
I’ve thought about this moment hundreds—maybe thousands—of times over the years. Whenever I think that I can’t do something, I pause and wonder what magic I might conjure. Even better, of course, I remember that it doesn’t take magic at all. It just takes belief.