Dragging my carcass through a book proposal

I just want to be a shitty writer without AI.

I’m stumbling my way through creating a book proposal. I have an old Windows laptop and a fairly new MacBook. Both are competing to be the top worst machines to distract me and tempt me to use AI to fix or alter what I’m doing. My first book doesn’t need that kind of editing, but my book proposal feels like homework. It doesn’t have to be long and I’m confident in my use of words and ability to structure a document, but when I look at the screen all of that goes down the toilet or out the window. Both are viable options.

When I use AI at all, it’s usually as a glorified Google search. I don’t want to use AI to fix my grammar or sentence structure. I want to fix things myself over time. I want to remember or re-learn punctuation myself. I don’t need Copilot to fix or suggest. The bigger struggle is in being a 51-year-old human still in burnout after my person died 4 years ago. Even after Frannie died I was still in a living situation with my father that kept my burnout and triggers in flight for another three years. I’ve spent that last year living alone in this burnout and loss of who or what I thought I was. Being a new author coming to the space, I know I need some kind of platform. This will be my messy platform where I do my best. My best will look different each day, the same as when I was with Frannie.

My question: How do I build a platform when I’m barely coming out of a perma-freeze from my caregiver life? I have things to share and add to the space, but the sharing has become a struggle .

Photo story:

I was having an absolute meltdown and was alone with Frannie. We were both having a bad day. I went to the basement and smashed one of her bells. This was the cleanup. In the end we sold her bells anyway. She asked for one bell years ago, then people just kept giving her bells. She didn’t know how to tell everyone that she didn’t want them.