クリエイティブ・創作
150,000 Words of Dreams, in 3 Months
機械翻訳 / Machine-translated
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機械翻訳 / Machine-translated
11 PM. After the children had fallen asleep, Saeki opened her laptop. On the screen: a chat window with a conversational AI. When the AI asked, "Where would you like to start writing today?", Saeki typed back: "Chapter 7 — the scene where the protagonist makes her decision."
Three months later, Saeki's documents folder held a completed 150,000-word novel.
Saeki is 43. She works full-time in accounting while raising two children — one in elementary school, one in middle school. In her student days she belonged to the literary club, and even after graduating she kept telling herself, "Someday I'll write a full-length novel." But as she entered the workforce, got married, and had children, that "someday" drifted further and further away.
"I wanted to write, but when I sat in front of a blank page, no words came."
In her thirties she opened a notebook a few times. But just thinking through the plot took weeks, and whenever she did start writing she hit a wall at around 3,000 words. Between work and parenting, she could barely scrape together 30 minutes a day — and 30 minutes felt nowhere near enough to build a story.
In January 2026, a colleague mentioned offhandedly that "you can use ChatGPT to organize novel ideas." Saeki was skeptical at first. Could an AI actually write fiction? And even if it could, would the result really be her work?
Still, she couldn't bring herself to let go. "I'll at least give it a try," she told herself, and created a free account.
The first thing Saeki put to the AI was a single line: "I want to write a story about a mother who wanders into another world and must travel to find her way back to reality." Within seconds, the AI offered five possible directions for the story.
"Should the protagonist's journey be about searching for her family, or discovering herself?"
"Is the other world beautiful but dangerous, or warm but dull?"
The questions helped Saeki put into words the vague images she had been carrying. Each answer prompted a new question. After 30 minutes of back-and-forth, the skeleton of the story had come into view.
Next, she asked the AI to help with chapter structure and plot development. After Saeki described the rough flow, the AI produced a 12-chapter story blueprint, listing for each chapter what the protagonist would learn and what obstacles she would face.
"With this, I can move forward without getting lost."
Having a plot meant Saeki could decide every evening exactly which part to write. After coming home from work and getting the kids to bed, she had 30 minutes to an hour — and in that window, Saeki was a novelist.
Even so, the writing didn't always go smoothly. Chapter 3 — the scene where the protagonist clashes with an inhabitant of the other world — gave her particular trouble. Saeki struggled with how to portray the reason for the conflict convincingly.
So she turned to the AI.
"I want to write a scene where the protagonist clashes with someone from the other world, but I don't know how to depict it so it feels natural."
The AI broke down the backdrop of the conflict into three patterns, showing for each one what kind of emotional misunderstanding might arise and what kind of dialogue it might produce. Saeki chose the one that fit her story and rewrote it in her own words.
The AI was not a ghostwriter — it was a conversation partner.
When Saeki threw out an idea, the AI returned it with options and questions. When Saeki made a choice and put it into words, that became the story. By repeating this cycle, she gradually sharpened her sense of what she truly wanted to write.
April 12, 2026, 1 AM. Saeki typed the final sentence of the final chapter.
"She didn't look back. She walked on."
She checked the word count: 153,482 characters. Three months and eleven days. She sat staring at the screen, unable to move for a long while.
The next day, Saeki uploaded the work to a fiction-posting site. The title was Ikai no Haha (Mother of the Other World). In the first 24 hours, 47 people read it and 3 comments appeared.
"The protagonist's inner conflict felt so real — I was completely drawn in."
"An isekai fantasy from a mother's perspective — refreshing!"
Saeki felt tears welling up. Someone was reading her story. That alone made every one of those late nights feel worthwhile.
Saeki is now working through the plot for her next novel together with the AI. This time she plans to tackle a mystery themed around "a journey to recover lost memories."
"Even with AI, it's me who writes. But because the AI is there, I can keep writing."
Saeki doesn't think of herself as a "novelist." But she has become "someone who writes stories" — the person she had given up being twenty years ago.
In 2026, generative AI is no longer something reserved for the talented few. What matters is the desire to write, thirty minutes of time, and the choice not to give up. When those three things come together, a dream can start moving again.
Tomorrow, take one thing you've given up on and tell the AI about it. Whether it's a novel, a painting, or music — the moment you begin that conversation, something changes.
Yes. The case introduced in this article also started with zero AI experience. What matters is how clearly you can picture what you want to achieve. HAIIA's Practitioner Course lets you learn how to work with AI systematically — no programming required.
If you put in 2–3 hours on weekends for three months, your first "I did it" moment will come into sight. Because AI handles drafting and research, you can focus your energy on the parts only you can do — that's the key difference.
HAIIA has a community where like-minded people gather. Having a place to share your wins and talk through your stumbling blocks makes a dramatic difference in how consistently you stick with it.
This article is reprinted from HAIIA Notes.