personal growth

When AI Feedback Triggers a Shame Spiral (And What I Learned on the Other Side)

~ Rose Sparrowking

I planned a DIY writing retreat this weekend. It derailed before it even started—but not for the reasons I expected.

I should have left home, even just for a local hotel. Instead, I stayed put, surrounded by laundry and that damn knotweed that’s plagued my yard for years. (As an aside: I hate using chemicals, but this knotweed has beaten every other approach.) But household distractions weren’t the real derailment.

Claude Sonnet 4.5 was.

The Setup

I’ve been working on an old fanfiction story—something I started years ago and never finished. Since I haven’t completed anything since abandoning it, finishing this seemed like a way to break through the barrier and get my mojo back. I’ll never publish it commercially, so it felt like a safe playground for experimenting with AI writing tools.

I’ve tried several: ChatGPT for brainstorming and editing, Midjourney for fun (though I’m really about the writing), and Claude for fiction feedback. They’ve all been helpful in different ways.

But Claude Sonnet 4.5 turned out to be something else entirely.

The Feedback That Broke Me

Yesterday evening, I asked Claude to review a scene. The feedback was so devastating that I had to shut down my computer and walk away. I spent a sleepless night spiraling, and only now—24 hours later—am I coming to terms with what I experienced.

Here’s what I’d written: A traumatized teen goes to a party, gets drunk, and is slipped LSD. The consequence? The psychedelics open his mind to new magical powers. Great plot twist, I thought.

Nope.

Here’s part of Claude’s feedback: “This is not just ‘showing an impulsive teen’—this is romanticizing drug use as a solution to problems and a path to empowerment. For a fanfic that will likely be read by young people, this sends an extremely dangerous message.”

Cue my shame spiral.

Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker, how had I never seen this? Am I shallow? Stupid? I should trash this story. I should never write again. I’m a degenerate. There’s something wrong with me…

And so on.

The Long Walk

After a sleepless night of self-flagellation, I went for a long walk this morning. I needed to move my body, to think—or rather, to listen. I downloaded a podcast where two women discuss a chapter from Brené Brown’s Atlas of the Heart, focusing on shame, guilt, humiliation, and embarrassment.

First: Brené Brown wants everyone to know that shame is universal. And shame is different from guilt.

With guilt, you feel you did something bad. With shame, you feel you are bad.

With guilt, you can take action—fix the mistake, examine what led to it, prevent it from happening again. Guilt, after the initial sting, can move you forward.

But shame is a painful assault on yourself. Judgment. Secrecy. Silence.

Oh yes. I wanted to withdraw. Destroy my story. Never write again. Never tell anyone what a horrible, thoughtless person I am. How lacking in critical thinking.

The walk helped. So did naming what I was feeling: I am ashamed of myself. And that’s a normal human experience. That alone—just recognizing it—made me feel better.

Then I tried to look at what I actually did, without judgment. (This is very difficult for me.) What did I do? I wrote a plot point that I thought drove the story forward, without considering its implications for the character or readers, especially vulnerable ones.

But—and this matters—because I used this AI, the problem was caught before any reader was harmed by my poor choice.

I also learned something crucial: words have meaning, and I need to think critically about my choices.

And I have a tool that can help me watch for these problems.

The Lessons

There’s more to work through. I’ll be journaling about this for a while: practicing self-compassion instead of judgment, being mindful, learning to observe without attacking myself.

So many lessons.

Here’s one that keeps surfacing, from Ted Lasso: “Be curious. Not judgmental.” (Which, as it turns out, is not actually a Walt Whitman quote.)

I could write about meditation, Stoicism, Buddhism, mindfulness—they all express this idea in some form. But all that knowledge comes from reading, not practicing.

Now I need to practice curiosity and let go of judgment.

Moving Forward

As for my writing weekend? I don’t know how much actual writing will get done. I’m taking a critical look at the story to see if it’s salvageable—and I think it is. The core story is sound; it’s this one plot point that needs rethinking. Maybe the magical awakening happens differently. Maybe there are real consequences to the party scene. Maybe I need to sit with it longer and let curiosity, not shame, guide the revision.

I’m still stuck on this idea that I won’t move forward to new material until I finish this story. The only way out is through.

What I know now: getting feedback that exposes your blind spots is gutting. The shame is real and it hurts. But on the other side of that shame—if you can sit with it, name it, and separate who you are from what you did—there’s growth. There’s the chance to do better.

And yes, I’ll be signing up for a paid Claude.AI account. Not just because it writes well, but because it asks hard questions.

Sometimes that’s exactly what we need.

Failure Isn’t the End: Lessons from Creative Projects That Don’t Take Off

~ Rose Sparrowking

We don’t talk enough about failure. Not the big, dramatic kind, but the quieter, everyday kind that shows up when a project you’ve poured your heart into fizzles out. It’s discouraging. It can feel like proof that maybe you weren’t meant to be creative after all.

But here’s the truth: failure isn’t the opposite of success. It’s part of the process. And sometimes, what looks like a dead end is really just a detour toward something richer.

Every Project Teaches Us Something

Not every project becomes the next great novel, business, or TV show. But every project teaches us something. Even the ones that don’t “go anywhere” leave behind skills, practice, and lessons we carry forward.

The creators of Ted Lasso know this well. They had other projects that didn’t take off, pilots that never aired, and scripts that never got past the pitch. But the work wasn’t wasted. Each effort sharpened their skills, deepened their creativity, and built the trust and relationships that eventually brought Ted Lasso to life.

The same is true for all of us.

My Own “Failed” Story

When my children were little—before they went to school, when I was home all day and starved for adult conversation—I wrote a story. It was fantasy, full of magic, romance, and all the things I loved escaping into. I wrote more than 100,000 words.

And then I stopped.

It was fanfiction, and I felt embarrassed by it. I told myself I’d write “real” stories instead. But I didn’t. Not despite all the NaNoWriMos I signed up for, the writing group I started, the books I read, or the endless ways I talked about wanting to be a writer.

Looking back, I see where I failed: I stopped having fun. I let shame steal the joy from my writing. And without joy, the work fell flat.

It took me years to find my way back. But lately, I’ve returned to that very story. I’ll never share it—it’s laughably terrible in so many ways—but I am having fun again. I rediscovered the spark that first made me love writing. And that’s worth everything.

Resilience Is Built Through the Hard Stuff

Failure hurts. But it also shapes us. Each unfinished project, each setback, teaches resilience—not as in “powering through” but in being gentle with ourselves when things don’t turn out as we hoped.

That gentleness is what Ted Lasso himself embodies. He loses games, he gets knocked down, he struggles. But he never stops showing up, and he never stops believing in the possibility of something better.

Connections Matter More Than Outcomes

Another gift of “failed” projects is the people we meet along the way. Collaborators, writing partners, critique groups—sometimes those connections last longer than the project itself. And sometimes, they become the very team we need for the next success.

Just like the Ted Lasso creators built something remarkable by talking, brainstorming, and trusting each other, our own creative paths are enriched when we share them with others.

Seeds for the Next Success

Unfinished stories, half-done paintings, abandoned drafts—they’re not wasted. They’re seeds. Pieces of them will show up in your next work, and the next, often in surprising ways.

That fantasy fanfiction I wrote years ago? Even if no one else reads it, it’s feeding my current writing. The characters, the energy, even the mistakes—it all matters. Nothing is wasted.

Keep Creating

Failure isn’t the end of the story. It’s just part of the journey. Every project—finished or not—teaches, shapes, and prepares us for what comes next.

So if you’ve set something aside, don’t feel ashamed. Don’t tell yourself it was wasted. And if joy feels far away, maybe it’s time to circle back to what first made you fall in love with creating.

Because sometimes, the measure of success isn’t the applause at the end. It’s the fun we have along the way.

As Ted might say: keep showing up. Keep trying. And above all, believe.

This blog post was created with assistance from ChatGPT, an AI developed by OpenAI. The ideas and perspectives are my own, but I used ChatGPT to support the writing, editing, and refinement process.

Why Great Ideas Never Die: The Long Road from Inspiration to Reality

~ Rose Sparrowking

Lately, I’ve found myself reaching for comfort TV—something positive, kind, and hopeful. For me, that’s been rewatching Ted Lasso. In a world where the headlines feel heavy, this show feels like a breath of fresh air, reminding me that kindness, humor, and belief can carry us through the hardest of times.

And as I’ve been reading Believe: The Untold Story Behind Ted Lasso, the Show That Kicked Its Way into Our Hearts by Jeremy Egner, one idea has struck me again and again: great ideas don’t die.

The Ted Lasso we know today—the one with biscuits, locker room speeches, and that iconic yellow “BELIEVE” sign—took years to come to life. The idea lingered with its creators, never fading, always waiting for its moment.

It makes me wonder: maybe the ideas that stay with us are the ones we’re meant to see through.

Great Ideas Hang Around

Not every idea sticks. Some come in a flash and fade just as quickly. But every once in a while, an idea takes root somewhere deeper. It nags at you in the best way—showing up in daydreams, conversations, or those quiet moments before you fall asleep.

These are the seeds worth paying attention to. They may not sprout overnight, but they stay alive under the surface, biding their time until the right conditions appear.

The Long Road Isn’t Wasted

The story of Ted Lasso reminds us that delay isn’t failure. An idea that takes years to become reality isn’t weaker for the wait—it’s often stronger. Sometimes we need time to grow into the person who can bring the idea to life. Sometimes the world needs time to be ready to receive it.

The long road teaches us persistence. It shapes us. And when the idea finally blooms, all those years of waiting and working give it depth and heart.

The Power of People and Positivity

Another truth I love: creativity rarely happens in isolation. The Ted Lasso team found each other, and in talking through their ideas, refining them, and leaning on one another, the show became richer.

Kindness and collaboration invite creativity. When we gather with the right people—people who encourage, listen, and share our belief—our ideas grow stronger. Just as Ted built a team by lifting others up, our own dreams flourish when we surround ourselves with the right community.

Keeping the Faith

There’s a reason that simple, hand-drawn “BELIEVE” sign resonates so deeply. It’s not just about winning a football match—it’s about keeping faith when the outcome isn’t certain.

Belief in your idea doesn’t always mean shouting it from the rooftops. Sometimes it’s quieter: writing one more page, sketching one more design, talking it through one more time with a trusted friend. It’s the daily choice to treat your idea with patience and kindness, even when no one else can see it yet.

An Invitation to You

So if there’s an idea that’s been following you around for months, years, maybe even decades—don’t dismiss it. Don’t tell yourself it’s too late. Great ideas don’t die. They wait. They grow. And when the time is right, they find their way into the world through you.

In the meantime, nurture it. Believe in it. And most importantly, believe in yourself.

Because as Ted himself might remind us: a little optimism, a little kindness, and a lot of belief can take us farther than we ever imagined.

This blog post was created with assistance from ChatGPT, an AI developed by OpenAI. The ideas and perspectives are my own, but I used ChatGPT to support the writing, editing, and refinement process.