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I’m designing a publishing system that keeps producing value without requiring constant output. This workflow started with frustration about the usual content model: publish constantly, stay visible, feed the algorithm, and repeat. That model works poorly when my energy varies, my interests shift, and forcing output quickly turns creativity into maintenance. Instead of asking, “How do I post more?” I’m asking: “How can content keep moving without requiring me to keep producing at the same pace?” The system is built around uneven energy. During high-energy periods, I can generate ideas, draft pieces, collect fragments, or prepare several posts at once. During low-energy periods, existing material does not become a failure state. It can sit, mature, be lightly edited, be reused, or simply wait. Ideas can exist in different stages: a note, a half-developed thought, a finished piece, something worth revisiting later, or something that can be repurposed in another format. Older material is not automatically “used up” after publication. A long-form idea can become a short post. A workflow can become a case study. A conversation fragment can become an essay seed. A previous post can return later from a different angle. The goal is not to build a machine that constantly demands feeding. It is to create a content reservoir I can draw from when I have the capacity. This workflow has not been fully implemented yet, but the design principle is useful: > Build around energy reality, not around imaginary consistency. Content should fit into life. Life should not be reorganized to serve the content treadmill. Step-by-step: 1. I design the publishing system around variable energy rather than a constant production schedule. 2. During high-energy periods, I generate ideas, draft pieces, collect fragments, and prepare several posts at once. 3. During low-energy periods, I let existing material sit, mature, receive light edits, be reused, or wait. 4. I allow ideas to remain in different stages, from notes and half-developed thoughts to finished pieces and material worth revisiting later. 5. I repurpose older material across formats, such as turning a long-form idea into a short post, a workflow into a case study, a conversation fragment into an essay seed, or a previous post into a new angle. 6. I draw from the resulting content reservoir when I have the capacity instead of constantly feeding a content treadmill.

I’m Jesús Núñez, an artist and the owner of J. Nunez Gallery, an independent contemporary art gallery with locations in Summit and Millburn, New Jersey. Founded in 2020, the gallery presents original abstract and figurative art, landscapes, still life, and photography. We help people discover artwork for their homes and work with interior designers on residential projects. Alongside running the gallery, I’m exploring how ChatGPT can help a small business improve its operations, marketing, and decision-making. I manage the business myself, so the practical question is how to turn existing information into useful, completed work. The workflow starts with real source material: website content, spreadsheets, analytics exports, screenshots, and the gallery’s business rules. I use focused conversations to examine one area, prepare concrete changes, and review the results. The work includes website improvements, artwork catalog organization, marketing analysis, audience segmentation, and outreach preparation. For example, AI-assisted troubleshooting helped identify duplicate website page-view tracking and guided its correction, which we checked against live analytics. That is an operational improvement; it is not evidence of increased sales. Another small-business owner can recreate the approach as follows. Step-by-step: 1. Record the business context: customers, products, geographic market, budget, brand preferences, and operating constraints. 2. Choose one specific task and define what completion means. Provide the relevant source material. 3. Require the AI to distinguish verified facts, interpretations, missing information, and proposed actions. It should not guess prices, contact details, or results. 4. Ask for a concrete deliverable, such as revised website copy, a classification table, implementation instructions, or an outreach draft. 5. Review the work and verify the actual result after implementation. Keep preparation, implementation, verification, and blocked work clearly identified. 6. Preserve approved decisions and completed actions in a current record so later sessions can continue from the existing work. 7. Measure qualified inquiries, appointments, proposals, and sales alongside marketing activity. This is an ongoing project. AI can repeat recommendations or lose track of previous decisions, so human review and continuity remain essential. I have not established a measured revenue increase or time-saving figure. I’m testing whether this approach can build a stronger business while allowing more attention for art, artists, and clients. If this example makes you curious about the gallery, you can browse available artwork and find information about our Summit and Millburn locations at https://www.jnunezgallery.com. You are welcome to explore the collection or contact us through the website for help choosing art. Jesús Núñez Artist and Owner, J. Nunez Gallery Summit and Millburn, New Jersey https://www.jnunezgallery.com

Spotify can tell me what I played, but it rarely explains what music does in my life. I use exported listening data, playlists, and personal context to explore taste, memory, regulation, identity, and continuity. I look at both observable listening behavior and the meanings I attach to it, without forcing every track into a biography. Step-by-step: 1. Start with the data. I export streaming history, tracks, artists, timestamps, listening duration, saved songs, and playlists where available. I check the period covered and remember that missing history does not mean a song never mattered. I start with behavior: a supposed favorite may barely appear, while another track may have played hundreds of times quietly. 2. Separate tracks from artists. I count unique tracks, unique artists, and tracks per artist. One artist with dozens of songs and hundreds of artists represented by one track suggest different listening styles: exploring discographies versus collecting exceptional songs. 3. Find lasting favorites. I distinguish temporary high-volume artists from favorites that return across years, playlists, and life phases. I look for persistent songs: tracks spanning years, returning after long gaps, or appearing in several playlists. Persistence can matter more than total plays. Some songs never win a monthly ranking yet refuse to disappear. 4. Connect music to life. I add relevant personal context, such as teenage years, university, a move, a relationship, or rebuilding. I ask which songs became landmarks and which were described as “my song.” Dates show when music appeared; I explain what that timing means instead of forcing every track into a biography. 5. Discover playlist functions. Repeated songs are not always favorites. Sometimes music has a job: providing strength, calm, concentration, singing, emotional release, or a way to reconnect with myself. I read playlist names alongside their tracks and listening patterns. “Power” might mean, “I do not feel strong, so I need external strength.” “Gold” might mean, “I want to feel my own golden heart again.” These meanings matter more than a generic genre label. 6. Treat corrections as evidence. AI suggests interpretations, but I decide whether they fit. For example: “This song is not nostalgic. It reminds me that I remain myself regardless of what another person does.” Corrections like this can change the meaning of an entire playlist, so I keep them alongside the data. 7. Look for regulation patterns. I find songs played daily for weeks, tracks repeated within one day, and playlists used at consistent times. I ask whether they accompany difficult tasks, low energy, singing, or calming down. Repetition is a clue, not proof of an emotional function. 8. Look beyond genre. Pop, rock, electronic music, mantra, and soundtracks can share dramatic builds, layered vocals, melodic hooks, powerful voices, intimate production, or mantra-like repetition. These qualities can explain why apparently unrelated songs belong together. I let myself name the patterns; “Post-Classical Electroacoustic Intimate Futurism” may be more useful for discovery than a standard genre. 9. Separate nostalgia from continuity. An old song returning is not necessarily nostalgia. I ask whether it is remembered or still actively used. Some music belongs to the past, while some music simply has a very long present. I keep different musical worlds separate: anthemic pop and meditative mantra may serve different parts of the same person. 10. Build a traceable profile. I include core artists, persistent songs, personal anthems, life-phase associations, functional playlists, regulation patterns, musical qualities, and unexpected findings. I link interpretations to dates, play counts, playlist appearances, and my explanations. I separate observed behavior, AI hypotheses, and confirmed meanings, and keep the profile easy to correct. 11. Recommend for the person. Instead of asking for “songs similar to Coldplay,” I ask: “Find the emotional build I like in Coldplay, the vocal force I like in Sia, and the intimate electronic texture in my meditation playlists.” I can also ask: “Find tracks for Power that could survive repeated listening without copying its existing artists.” 12. Update over time. I add new data and look for new favorites, returning anchors, changing playlist functions, and stable patterns. The ongoing cycle is: export → analyse → find persistent songs → map functions → add personal context and corrections → build the profile → recommend → update. Listening history records what I played. AI helps me explore why something kept returning. I remain the only person who can finally say: “Yes. That is what this song means to me.”

I built a custom web app that uses chance to combine random images and texts into new, unplanned pairings. It recreates a Dadaist technique I use often when making photobooks, which I previously did manually with physical prints. I used Replit to create a digital version of the game. It was easy to connect the app to Project Gutenberg for random texts and the Library of Congress photography archive for images. More importantly, I made it possible for users to work with their own image and text archives. So far, it has produced many new and interesting results, and other artists have used it too. Step-by-step: 1. I identified the manual process I use when making photobooks: combining printed images and texts by chance. 2. I used Replit to build a digital version of this process as a web app. 3. I connected the app to Project Gutenberg to pull random texts. 4. I connected it to the Library of Congress photography archive to pull images. 5. I allowed users to work with their own image and text archives. 6. I used the app to create new pairings and shared it with other artists, who used it as well.

I'm not a professional developer, but I built Sujido, a live word puzzle, with multiple AI agents. For months, they gave me bloat, lost context, and slop, and neither I nor the models could untangle what had been decided or why. I eventually settled on two agents: one Claude instance that plans and reviews, and another that builds. I imposed rules on both, one failure at a time. None of these rules would surprise a professional engineering team, but nobody handed them to me. That's the key lesson I learned: agents won't bring the discipline for you. You have to impose it. When I showed the first game revision to strangers, their verdict was that the first half was "boring" and the second half was novel. It was hard news to hear about my baby, but I took the feedback to heart and cut the game in half. That required surgery on code tangled across both halves, followed by a rebuild under the rules below. Before the rebuild, a separate AI audit graded the codebase B−. Afterward, it graded it A−. The deployed site shrank by 97.5%, and every serious finding was fixed and locked in by an automated test. The models didn't change drastically, but my operating rules did. Step-by-step: 1. I wrote a constitution before the first prompt. The repo holds what every agent must read before working: `CLAUDE.md` files for the project as a whole and for each major part of the code, a collaboration protocol for how the agents and I work together, a spec for the core data format, and a decision log. The data format is changed there first and then in code. Nothing is remembered unless it is written down. That's my life as well. :) 2. I split the work by role, not by task. One Claude instance is the strategist: it writes briefs, reviews reports, and never commits code. Claude Code in VS Code is the builder: it executes the brief, writes the tests, reports back, and never releases. Neither agent can approve its own work. 3. I made every job start from a written brief, and I never edit briefs. Each brief is committed to the repo with an exact scope, such as "do X only, do not begin Y." If plans change, a dated amendment states what it supersedes. The builder may skip a risky item with a written reason; skipping is better than forcing it. 4. I used mock-ups with real data instead of descriptions. Anything I will look at gets a mock-up, and I approve it before any code is written. I learned this when a status report described only in words arrived on my phone formatted as a wall of text. The approved mock became the spec, and the tests pin the output to it. 5. I proved that every test could fail. No test is trusted until it has been run against deliberately broken code and caught the bug. A test suite that has never failed hasn't proven anything. 6. I verified reports against the real repo. Agent reports drift. One summary said players rated a puzzle "just right" when the log said "too easy." An audit said there were about 25 unused functions; a recount found 29. The strategist spot-checks load-bearing claims against the actual files and data before anything ships. 7. I built gates the agents can't talk their way past. All work lands on a branch that auto-deploys to a test site. GitHub Actions lints and runs the Python and headless-browser tests on every push. A git hook refuses direct pushes to production. Releases are fast-forward merges that only I perform, after CI is green and I've tested the build personally. The live site shows the release's commit ID, and I check it before calling it shipped. Nothing merges automatically. An agent's "looks good" is just another report, and reports drift. 8. I gave the system a memory. Every session ends by updating the decision log and a "resume here" document, so the next session—a fresh model with no recollection—picks up exactly where the last one stopped. Without this, every session starts by relitigating old decisions. 9. I let the data and end users overrule me. A scheduled GitHub Action turns player telemetry into a daily report. It showed that the difficulty dials I assumed mattered did not predict what players found hard; what mattered was how misleading the starting arrangement was. When testers were confused by the tutorial, I rebuilt it even though I had already approved it. Player feedback about their own experience outranks my earlier rulings. AI agents are velocity multipliers, but they multiply bad structure as quickly as good code. The rules came from me, not the models: the AI writes the code, while the rules, gates, and written record keep the process honest. See the result at Sujido.com. Finding the anagram is the easy part; sliding it into place is the hard part. One board took me 902 moves. My S.O. solved it in 242, and I haven't heard the end of it. Try to break it!

Sometimes I remember something perfectly badly: not its title, creator, or where I found it, but a sound, a color, a vague cover, a sentence, or a period in my life. I know it exists because I loved it, but I cannot name it. I use AI and my digital traces to recover songs, books, videos, articles, and quotes. Memory is not a catalog; it stores traces. AI can turn those traces into searchable hypotheses. Step-by-step: 1. I dump every surviving clue without waiting for a proper search query. The clues can be as rough as “The title sounded like nu nau tau,” “It was ambient or humming,” “The cover was maybe a green desert?” or “I knew it around 2019.” Another example is: “A book about makers and Disney. White 3D-printed figures, tiny people, and bears on a blue cover.” This is raw memory evidence. 2. I separate certainty from guessing by labeling each clue as certain, fairly sure, possible, or probably distorted. I keep uncertain clues, but do not treat them as facts. A wrong attribution or outdated cover does not invalidate everything else. 3. I reconstruct the original encounter. I ask where I was and whether I Shazamed it, saved it, sent it to someone, screenshotted it, or bought it at a book fair. In one case, I remembered hearing a song in someone’s car and Shazaming it because I could not parse the pronunciation. Remembering that capture action pointed to a retrieval source. 4. I search my own collections first: playlists, liked songs, Shazam history, saved videos, old posts, messages, bookmarks, notes, photos, receipts, and reading lists. The object may already be there under metadata I no longer remember. I start with the smallest reliable fragment. 5. I search for “nu” inside my playlists after remembering “nu nau tau.” That recovered Man O To — Nu. The artist and title had blended into one phrase, and the song was sitting in several playlists, including my Shazam collection. A clue does not need to be complete; it only needs to be distinctive enough inside the right collection. 6. I allow memory to scramble metadata. An artist and title may merge, album art may become song art, and a quotation may survive with the wrong poet attached. I split remembered phrases, swap artist and title, try different word boundaries, consider older releases, and search phonetically using similar syllables, vowel sounds, homophones, alternate spellings, or other languages. I also ask what the cover looked like when I knew it, because artwork changes. 7. I use context and cross-reference traces. A year, trip, relationship, or platform can narrow the search more than a half-correct title. Spotify might preserve the song, Shazam the discovery moment, and an old message the recommendation. Old posts are accidental archives, and dead links may still leave names, dates, or descriptions. If memory fails completely, I inspect behavior from the relevant period, such as repeated listening, watch history, purchases, or library loans. 8. I let AI propose candidates and compare them against several independent clues, including sound, subject, period, cover, and personal context. One matching detail is not confirmation. I show titles, covers, creator names, and short descriptions because recognition may succeed where recall fails. Rejections also help: “No, but the cover was more minimal,” “The title was shorter,” or “It was fiction, not nonfiction.” Each correction sharpens the search. 9. I pay attention to the strangest clue. The blue cover with white figures, bears, and a makers-and-Disney theme led to *Makers* by Cory Doctorow. 10. Once I confirm the object, I save the title, creator, link, why it mattered, and how I recovered it. For example: - Clue: “nu nau tau” - Encounter: heard in someone’s car and Shazamed - Search: Spotify/Shazam collection → “nu” - Result: Man O To — Nu - Distortion: artist and title blended together This becomes a retrieval playbook: which clues survive, where traces live, and how my memory distorts them. The overall workflow is: collect fragments → mark uncertainty → reconstruct the encounter → search personal traces → try phonetic, visual, and contextual clues → compare candidates → recognize and confirm → save the result and retrieval path. I do not need to remember the database fields. I need enough fragments to rebuild the trail. Sometimes the best clue is what I did when I first encountered something. Sometimes it has been sitting in five of my own playlists while I spend years wondering what it was called. 😑😭🎧

I write murder mysteries, and like every author, I need an editor to help carry a story from the first raw idea to a finished, publishable script. The trouble is that good editors are rare. The insightful, reliable ones are expensive, and they are often slow. My first murder mystery took the better part of six months to edit. Even after all that time, I still found typos and clumsy sentences that should have been caught during the line edit and proofreading. That is not a criticism of editors; it is the reality of a manual, human-paced process that does not scale to the way I want to work. I do not use AI to write my stories. The voice, plot, and subtext are mine. But line editing and proofreading are different jobs, and that is where I started using AI. Basic paid ChatGPT got me part of the way, but it was not enough. In February, I switched to Claude, and it was a quantum leap: sharper suggestions, better reasoning, and output I could actually trust. I wanted more than a clever assistant. I wanted a process. Rather than wait for the perfect human editor—affordable, brilliant, and available precisely when I needed them—I built my own. My Claude Editor-in-Chief contains my entire editing workflow, along with a few innovations of my own. At its heart is a framework I developed: the Tension Coefficient (TC), ReaderGrip, and StoryDrift. These three lenses show whether a scene is pulling its weight, whether it keeps its grip on the reader, and whether the story is quietly wandering off course. Everything feeds into a dashboard, so I can see at a glance what is working and what needs fixing. The result is a workflow that turns editing from a six-month slog into something that takes a fraction of the time and, more importantly, produces a cleaner, tighter manuscript. I stopped waiting for help and built the editor I always wished I could hire. Step-by-step: 1. I kept the creative work—my story’s voice, plot, and subtext—in my own hands and used AI specifically for line editing and proofreading. 2. I started with basic paid ChatGPT, then switched to Claude in February after finding that it provided sharper suggestions, better reasoning, and output I could trust. 3. I built a Claude Editor-in-Chief around my full editing workflow instead of relying on Claude as a general-purpose assistant. 4. I added my Tension Coefficient (TC), ReaderGrip, and StoryDrift frameworks to evaluate whether scenes are effective, maintain reader engagement, and stay on course. 5. I connected those evaluations to a dashboard that shows what is working and what needs fixing. 6. I use the workflow to reduce editing time and produce a cleaner, tighter manuscript.

I built Show Hole to solve my family’s classic streaming problem: we spend too much time deciding what to watch, and the answer changes depending on who is actually on the couch. We each have different tastes, but the more interesting problem is that our tastes overlap differently in different combinations. I watch one kind of thing with my spouse, my spouse watches something different with our kid, and my kid and I have our own lane too. Most recommendation tools flatten that into one account profile, one watch history, or broad genre buckets, so they miss the real context of a household. Show Hole treats people and viewing contexts as first-class citizens. It recommends titles “in the vein of” something we liked, filters recommendations to the streaming services we actually subscribe to, avoids titles that the people present have already seen or vetoed, and explains why a recommendation fits tonight. Instead of relying mainly on genres such as comedy, drama, or sci-fi, Show Hole looks at more human taste signals: pacing, world building, humor, emotional weight, complexity, tone, and similar dimensions. It also learns from what we actually do after a recommendation: what we watch, skip, save for later, love, and drop. The result is a personal household recommender that understands “who is watching tonight?” as part of the question, instead of pretending one streaming profile can represent everyone. I designed the app using Claude design, then used those designs with Claude Code to build it. Step-by-step: 1. I identified the household viewing problem and accounted for the different combinations of people who might be watching together. 2. I designed Show Hole around people and viewing contexts instead of treating the household as one account profile, watch history, or set of broad genre preferences. 3. I had it recommend titles “in the vein of” something we liked, filter them to the streaming services we subscribe to, exclude titles already seen or vetoed by the people present, and explain why each recommendation fits that night. 4. I used taste signals such as pacing, world building, humor, emotional weight, complexity, tone, and similar dimensions instead of relying mainly on genres. 5. I made the recommender learn from what we watch, skip, save for later, love, and drop after receiving a recommendation. 6. I designed the app using Claude design and used those designs with Claude Code to build it.

YouTube is one of the best free education platforms out there, but the problem is that it takes a ton of time to sit through long videos just to find the few ideas that actually matter. That's where Gemini has been really useful for me. Since it's built into Google, I can use it to quickly summarize a specific YouTube video, or even scan the last 5–10 videos from a creator to pull out the key takeaways. Instead of spending hours watching everything, I can quickly understand the main ideas, find the best nuggets, and decide what's worth digging into deeper. It's basically a shortcut for learning from long-form content without consuming every minute of it. Step-by-step: 1. I gave Gemini the URL of a specific YouTube video when I wanted a fast summary of one piece of content. 2. For a broader view, I asked it to scan the latest five to ten videos from the same creator. 3. I had it extract the main ideas and strongest takeaways from each video. 4. I compared the summaries to find recurring themes and the most useful nuggets. 5. I used that overview to decide which videos were worth watching in full.

I read the news every day, but it had become increasingly depressing and was making me miserable. What bothered me most was that it also felt inaccurate: although bad things are happening, there have been many positive developments over the past five years that rarely receive sustained coverage. Major news sites might publish an article or two about them, but those stories are quickly buried under negativity. I wanted a way to get only positive news stories in my feed each day. Keyword filters did not work: “record” and “breakthrough” also appear in stories about record wildfire seasons, while “war” can appear in “war ends.” Off-the-shelf sentiment analysis was not useful either. A happy press release about layoffs can be classified as positive, while a dry factual story about a disease being eliminated may be classified as neutral. So I trained a basic artificial version of my personality using a series of prompts about what I consider positive in the world. I connected it to Mistral through OpenRouter and gave it access to public RSS feeds from news sites I already trusted. This eventually became Rally News, which I published on Google Play. iOS has been more difficult. The app surfaces positive stories from more than 20 news sites in an endless scroll, giving me an alternative to my uncomfortable TikTok addiction. Because I made it public, I decided not to host article text: publishers keep their traffic and revenue, while the tool remains ethical. The system runs on a GitHub Actions cron job that pushes stories to a PHP and MySQL database. I built the app without coding experience for about $25 per month. Step-by-step: 1. I collected RSS feeds from established publishers I already trusted and stored the list as configuration. I started with about 10 feeds instead of a few hundred so I could realistically read the output. 2. I set up a scheduled GitHub Actions cron job to run a Python script that pulls new items from every feed. 3. I deduplicated incoming articles against the database using the URL and a normalized title. Syndicated stories frequently reappear under slightly different URLs, and I did not want to pay to evaluate the same article twice. 4. I wrote the filter prompt as a long persona document rather than a one-line instruction. It explains what I consider progress, what I consider a puff piece, and which cases should fail—for example, celebrity news is not good news, a company announcing an intention is not the same as taking action, and a local feel-good story without wider significance does not qualify. 5. I sent each new article to an LLM through OpenRouter and required JSON output containing a pass-or-fail decision and a short justification. 6. For the first few weeks, I read the justifications every day. Whenever I disagreed with the model, I added a new rule to the persona document. That review loop required nearly all of the actual work. 7. I wrote passing articles to MySQL with only the headline, source, link, and metadata, leaving the article body with the publisher. 8. I pointed the website and mobile app to the same database. 9. I added a second GitHub Actions job that assembles a daily newsletter from the same data through Brevo, allowing one evaluation pass to feed three surfaces.

Post-production for each of my podcast episodes used to be a significant task, even when an episode was audio-only. I’ve now built a workflow with Claude and Descript to automate the production process. I clean up the original recording in Descript, export the transcript to Claude, and run a single command to generate the remaining assets. This includes show notes for Hello Audio, opening and closing scripts written in my voice using anti-AI files to avoid a robotic tone, audio clips and audiograms for social platforms through a custom Claude skill, teaser posts for each audiogram on LinkedIn, and launch-day posts for LinkedIn and Substack, where my audience is. I’m sure there’s a way to streamline the workflow further to include distribution of the posts, audiograms, and episodes. It’s a work in progress 😀 Step-by-step: 1. I clean up the original podcast recording in Descript. 2. I export the transcript from Descript to Claude. 3. I run a single command in Claude to produce show notes for Hello Audio. 4. I generate opening and closing scripts for each episode using my voice and anti-AI files to avoid a robotic tone. 5. I use a custom Claude skill to automate the production of audio clips and audiograms for social platforms. 6. I create teaser posts for each audiogram on LinkedIn. 7. I prepare the main LinkedIn and Substack posts for each episode’s launch day. 8. I’m continuing to look for a way to streamline distribution of the posts, audiograms, and episodes.

When I’m continuing a book series or a show season and have forgotten key plot points—especially in fictional stories with large casts—I use NotebookLM to research a spoiler-free refresher before starting the new season or latest book. I used this approach with the new *Murderbot* series and the latest science-fiction book by James S. A. Corey, who wrote *The Expanse* and the *Leviathan Wakes* series. After loading the sources, I ask NotebookLM to create a slide deck with illustrations of the key characters, their relationships, and a quick dossier for each one. This gives me a visual anchor for the characters and earlier plot lines without revealing future events. I also want a hero image designed as a slide, cover, or thumbnail to promote this workflow. It should use and represent the NotebookLM logo and the logos of any other relevant tools, track down their current branding where possible, and turn these .dcs into HTML slide decks.

My first media job was as a fact-checker at a major magazine. Those jobs have already mostly vanished before AI arrived, but now I use ChatGPT 5.4 Thinking as a last-pass fact-checker on my newsletters before I hit send. I'll ask it to identify inconsistencies, isolate the assertions that most need verification, and check key numbers, quotes, and factual claims against original or primary sources. In other words, it does not replace reporting, but it is remarkably good at stress-testing a draft before publication — essentially fact-checking my fact-checking. Step-by-step: 1. I pasted the nearly finished newsletter draft into ChatGPT 5.4 Thinking. 2. I asked it to identify inconsistencies and isolate the assertions most in need of verification. 3. I had it check key numbers, quotes, and factual claims against original or primary sources. 4. I reviewed the proposed corrections and followed the source trail rather than accepting changes blindly. 5. I used the result as a final stress test of my own reporting and fact-checking before publishing.

I built a workflow that converts landscape (16:9) footage into vertical (9:16) video without heavily cropping the original footage. Using AI tools and a simple node tree in Magnific, I generated the missing visual data outside the original frame so the final video looks as if it was captured vertically. Previously, this felt like too much trouble and too many steps to be worthwhile. Using Magnific Spaces, I extended the first frame of the video to fit a 9:16 frame with one prompt. Then I used a second prompt with the new frame and the original video as references in a video-generation node. I used Seedance 2.0 to save credits because I had low expectations that the workflow would work. To my surprise, the output was great immediately. It was not perfect, but the generated footage matched the original clip very well. Below are images of my node tree. Step-by-step: 1. I opened the original landscape (16:9) video in Magnific. 2. I used one prompt to extend the video's first frame into a 9:16 vertical frame. 3. I added the new frame and the original video as references in a video-generation node. 4. I used a second prompt to generate the expanded vertical footage with Seedance 2.0. 5. I reviewed the output and found that it matched the original clip well, although it was not perfect.

I keep a long wishlist on Audible, but whenever I want a new audiobook, I face the same question: does my library already offer it for free through Libby? Checking hundreds of titles manually feels like too much work, so I often spend a credit instead. I had Claude build a workflow that checks for me. It reads my Audible wishlist and cross-references every title against my library’s Libby catalog, sorting each one into three categories: borrow now, join the waitlist, or not available. The important part was learning to interpret Libby accurately. Badges and time estimates can make an audiobook look ready when it isn’t, and a pending hold can look like an active one. The reliable signal is the exact text on the button: “Borrow” means I can borrow it; anything else means I should wait or move on. Step-by-step: 1. I gave Claude a workflow to read my Audible wishlist. 2. I had it cross-reference every title against my library’s Libby catalog. 3. I had it sort each title into “borrow now,” “join the waitlist,” or “not available.” 4. I configured the workflow to interpret availability using the exact button text rather than relying on badges or time estimates. 5. Before spending an Audible credit, I check whether Libby already has the audiobook ready.

“A good engineer knows when not to use AI.” I built a semi-automated workflow to summarize my live streams. With it, I can record and edit a stream in just one day of work. Not everyone has time to watch an entire stream, so creating a summary of the main moments is important for people who want to watch it later. Many tools create Shorts from videos by analyzing transcripts, but they are expensive and do not work well for visually heavy content such as gameplay. Gemini can analyze both video and audio and has a long context window, so I decided to use Google AI Studio to identify important moments. I also created scripts to automate parts of the video-editing process. Some of the scripts can be executed by an agent, and the prompts can be turned into Skills when using the API. Step-by-step: 1. I record the video with separate tracks for the microphone and background audio. I keep the microphone on the first track so the LLM does not identify only the background audio. 2. I compress and cut the video with `ffmpeg`, then extract the audio tracks. Google AI Studio has implicit video requirements: files must be under 400MB and under one hour long. The AI analyzes only one frame per second, so I can also lower the FPS to save space. I use the audio tracks later in the workflow. 3. I upload the processed videos to Google Drive, which makes them easier to use in Google AI Studio. 4. I use Gemini with temperature 1 and a high thinking level to select the important moments. I add the system prompt and specify which part of the video I am uploading: "The video is part X of the stream. Please make a structured script according to the system instructions." This helps Gemini understand what types of moments may appear in the video. The system prompt was created for gameplay presentations but can be adapted for other content. 5. I use Gemini Pro with temperature 1 and a high thinking level to find the timestamps for the selected moments. I keep timestamp generation separate from moment selection so Gemini has more thinking time for each task. Gemini Pro works better than Flash when handling time. I add the system prompt along with a copy of the response from the previous step. - As an extra check, after execution I continue the conversation with: "Check if the analysis was cut off too early (context truncation), ignoring that the video continued and generating false positives for timestamps. Check the last events especially." 6. I send the data to Blender. I create a JSON file containing the AI’s response and use a script to add the original video, the microphone track, and the background audio track. The script cuts and marks the important moments based on the JSON. Because it is not possible to send multiple audio tracks from a single video, I send the tracks separately. I also make sure to use the correct FPS, either 30 or 60. 7. I edit the video manually. The AI’s timestamps are not perfect, so I may add or remove sections, or correct a position that the AI identified incorrectly. I then render the video. 8. As an extra, I can automate standardized edits. For example, I use three different camera positions, so I add clips to three different tracks depending on the position I want. I use a script to change the position and scale of the clips on those tracks. 9. As another extra, I transcribe the audio. I mute the background audio and save only the microphone audio as an MP3, then use Whisper to transcribe it. I can use the transcript as YouTube subtitles or embed it directly into the video. I use Whisper-WebUI with Log probability Threshold -0.5, No Speech Threshold 0.5, Patience 2, and Hotwords `\u003cmy name and terms in other languages I usually use\u003e`. I use an LLM to translate the transcript into other languages. 10. Finally, I create tags and titles. I upload the transcript to Google Drive and use it in Google AI Studio with a system prompt to generate tags and titles for the video. I also use the assistant in Google AI Studio to analyze and summarize my channel for use in LLMs. This helps me choose better titles and tags.

I built a daily AI story-scouting workflow that finds potentially viral stories for Instagram Reels, YouTube Shorts, and TikTok without recycling topics we’ve already covered. First, the workflow reviewed Rowan’s public short-form archive once to create a coverage map of past topics and editorial taste. It uses that map as a filter, helping distinguish a genuinely new angle from another version of the same AI launch, robot demo, or research story. Every morning, it scans priority sources, including AI and technology coverage from major newspapers and tech blogs, The Rundown newsletters, company announcements, research papers, and public updates from major AI and robotics companies. The workflow is not limited to same-day news. It also looks back over the past one to six weeks for stories that have not been extensively covered in the media. Each potential story is checked for four things: a clear visual hook, a technical idea that can be explained in 45–90 seconds, broad audience interest, and meaningful novelty compared with Rowan’s past coverage and the previous week’s recommendations. It keeps every story that clears the bar rather than forcing a fixed number. The final brief is ranked by strength and sent as one compact Slack DM at 10 AM each day. Step-by-step: 1. The workflow reviews Rowan’s public short-form archive once and builds a map of past topics and editorial taste. 2. Each morning, it scans priority sources, including major newspapers, tech blogs, The Rundown newsletters, company announcements, research papers, and public updates from major AI and robotics companies. 3. It searches both same-day news and stories from the previous one to six weeks that have not been extensively covered in the media. 4. It filters out topics that substantially repeat Rowan’s past coverage or the previous week’s recommendations, while identifying genuinely new angles. 5. It evaluates each potential story for a clear visual hook, a technical idea explainable in 45–90 seconds, broad audience interest, and meaningful novelty. 6. It keeps every story that meets those criteria instead of forcing a fixed number of recommendations. 7. It ranks the final brief by strength and sends it as one compact Slack DM at 10 AM each day.

I first create my own shortlist of cultural events and collect all the relevant links in a simple text document. Then I give the document to ChatGPT along with my planning criteria. The goal is not to have AI decide what I should attend. I have already chosen the events that interest me. The useful part is turning that scattered shortlist into a realistic yearly plan. ChatGPT checks the event and venue pages, gathers the practical information, and organises everything into a chronological overview divided by month. Under each month, it lists the selected events in date order, including the day, date, location or cultural venue, a short description, and relevant ticket prices. This is especially useful because pricing systems differ between venues. Discounts, subscriptions, social tariffs, and reduced rates may apply in completely different ways. ChatGPT can compare those structures and help me understand what each event would actually cost instead of relying on the headline ticket price. The second planning layer is logistics. For each event, I assess how realistic the trip is by public transport, including the journey there and, importantly, whether getting home after the event is still feasible. I also use separate scores for how strongly I want to attend an event and how easy or difficult the logistics are. This makes it much easier to compare several months at once and decide where my cultural budget and energy are best spent. If an event is too expensive or logistically awkward, ChatGPT can look for practical alternatives, such as another performance date, the same production at a closer venue, a cheaper option, or a similar event that fits the plan better. Step-by-step: 1. I create a personal shortlist of cultural events and collect the relevant links in a simple text document. 2. I give the document to ChatGPT together with my planning criteria. 3. I have ChatGPT check the event and venue pages and organise the selected events into a chronological, month-by-month overview. 4. I include each event’s day, date, location or cultural venue, short description, and relevant ticket prices. 5. I compare discounts, subscriptions, social tariffs, and reduced rates to estimate the actual cost of each event. 6. I assess the public-transport journey to and from each event, including whether getting home afterward is feasible. 7. I score each event separately for how strongly I want to attend it and how easy or difficult the logistics are. 8. I use those comparisons to decide where my cultural budget and energy are best spent. 9. For events that are too expensive or logistically awkward, I ask ChatGPT to identify alternatives such as another performance date, a closer venue, a cheaper option, or a similar event that fits the plan better. The result is a structured yearly planner built from my own cultural shortlist: chronological, budget-aware, and grounded in the realities of public transport.

I develop the song with ChatGPT, working through the lyrics, structure, mood, and sound tags. I then move the concept into Suno, which generates the music. Once the track is finished, my ChatGPT agent handles the download and archiving workflow where site authentication allows it. ChatGPT also creates the visual artwork. I assemble the finished song and image into a full video and a Short in Clipchamp. From there, I publish the content to YouTube and TikTok, then share the release across Facebook, LinkedIn, and X. What makes this workflow interesting is not any single AI tool, but the handoff between them: writing, music generation, file handling, image creation, video assembly, publishing, and distribution—all directed by one human creative process. The result is a practical, end-to-end AI-assisted production pipeline rather than a single AI-generated output. Step-by-step: 1. I work with ChatGPT to develop the lyrics, structure, mood, and sound tags. 2. I move the concept into Suno to generate the music. 3. Once the track is finished, my ChatGPT agent downloads and archives it where site authentication allows. 4. I use ChatGPT to create the visual artwork. 5. I combine the finished song and image in Clipchamp to create a full video and a Short. 6. I publish the finished content to YouTube and TikTok. 7. I share the release across Facebook, LinkedIn, and X.

I work with long talking-head videos for my online course and Instagram. Turning them into vertical shorts used to take hours per video: finding the best moments, cropping to 9:16, adding captions, or paying for clipping subscriptions. I built a video-clipping agent as a Claude skill that runs entirely on free, open-source tools. Step-by-step: 1. I drop a long video—either talking-head footage or an already-produced 16:9 video—into a folder and invoke my "clipper" skill in Claude. 2. Claude transcribes the video locally with faster-whisper using word-level timestamps, so no API key is needed. ElevenLabs Scribe is an optional upgrade for tricky audio. Before transcription, the workflow cleans the audio with declipping and normalization because clipped microphone peaks can make Whisper skip words or hallucinate. 3. The skill scores every candidate moment against a rubric: hook strength (30 points), whether it can stand alone (25), emotional charge (20), rhythm (15), and ending (10). Only segments scoring 70 or higher survive, so I do not publish a weak clip simply because it exists. 4. Claude cuts the selected moments with word-level precision and reframes them to 9:16 in one of two modes: face-tracking crop for raw footage, or "pad" mode, which centers the full 16:9 video over a blurred background. The latter lets me repurpose already-edited videos without chopping off centered graphics or captions. 5. ffmpeg masters everything to a fixed specification: 1080x1920, 24fps, H.264 CRF18, and audio normalized to -14 LUFS. The files are ready for Instagram, TikTok, and Shorts. 6. I review the scored shortlist and publish the winners. What used to take hours—or require a monthly subscription—now takes minutes and costs zero. The scoring rubric also makes the agent explain why each clip deserves to exist instead of simply cutting wherever the waveform looks loud.