When I was growing up, my dad and I often talked about a story we wanted to write together. It was called “The Day Nobody Went to Disneyland”. One day, the story goes, the weather is so perfect that everyone in the world decides to stay away from Disneyland because they expect it to be far too busy.
But my dad, who has the same thought as them, sees the disappointment on my face that morning – and decides to risk it. And when we arrive, the park is completely empty. Nobody else was brave enough to visit.
We have everything – the rides, shows, food – to ourselves. I loved the idea of writing that story. But, as so often happens, we were too busy to do anything about it.
I grew up, and we both forgot about it. Thirty years later, I was at my parents’ for dinner with my own children (eight, five and two). For some reason, the idea popped into my mind again.
I told my oldest about it – and she wanted to hear the full thing. We turned to ChatGPT, gave it the vague outline and asked it to have a go at writing the story in the style of Dr Seuss (one of our favourites). Within a few seconds, we had it.
She read it out – and we laughed. Of course, what this AI generated wasn’t perfect. A few lines didn’t quite make sense; a few Americanisms had slipped in (“sneakers”, “cinnamon buns”).
Extract — continue reading at the source.
