A few days ago, I posted something deeply personal on the blog and shared it on Reddit. I didn’t expect it to go viral. I wasn’t trying to spark a debate. I just wanted to speak—about art, about AI, about growing up with nothing but imagination and the stories I carried like hidden treasures.

The post was titled “The Final Stand for AI Tools”. And it became something much bigger than I expected: over 8,000 people read it. Dozens replied.

Some told me I wasn’t a real artist. Others told me I was exactly what art is meant to be.

💬 I said:

“I didn’t see the sea until I was 34. But I had written poems about waves and salt wind long before. I wasn’t stealing—I was imagining. That’s what creation is.”

I talked about how AI tools gave me access to something I never had before: 

• The ability to score my stories.
• To hear what Galatea sounds like.
• To make music—finally.

And for that… I was told it didn’t count. That it wasn’t “real.” That it was just pressing a button.

But here’s what else happened:

💡 A man who’s worked in music for 31 years wrote:

“I don’t care how you made it. If I like it and it’s awesome, then I like it and it’s awesome. Period.”

Others told me AI helped them finally make a song after decades of silence.

Some said they never felt like musicians—until now.

One person said they’d been quietly using AI to finish songs their heart had held onto for years.

🧭 And me?

I realized I wasn’t alone.

I realized there are so many of us out here—quiet creators, library kids, late bloomers—who’ve been told we’re “not enough” because we didn’t come up the traditional way.

Because we use new tools to tell old truths.

But the story is still ours.

And no one gets to take that away.

💬 So here’s what I want to say now:

I am a writer. A worldbuilder. A dreamer who found a voice in tools I never thought I’d have access to. I’m not here to replace anyone. I’m here to create what only I can create.

If that’s you too—if you’re building something with what you’ve got, even if it’s different—don’t let anyone silence you.

We’re real. Our stories are real.

And our songs?

They’re echoes of the things we imagined loud enough.

Music from a story that was never supposed to exist...

🎧 Moonborn: Songs of Defiance

What began as a design refresh quickly became something deeper.

I made the decision to unpublish the old versions of Poems from a Monster, The Order of the Sacred Vow, and The Fruits of Earth. I thought I’d simply reformat them, maybe adjust a few things. Nothing major. I needed a break from the emotional gravity of the Galatean Saga—after two years immersed in the story of Bem Parkett, I needed a breather. (And if you’ve ever read my acknowledgements for KoS: Invasion, you’ll know just how over-emotional that journey was.)

But as I opened those old files, something unexpected happened: I rediscovered the reasons I wrote them in the first place.

From Short Story to Full Novella

For Poems from a Monster, I added new pieces—verses written over the seven years since its original release. For The Order of the Sacred Vow, the transformation was even more dramatic: what was once a 5,500-word short story is now a 25,000-word novella. The second edition isn’t just longer—it’s deeper. More immersive. More me.

I expanded Portia’s arc, added psychological nuance, and wove in stronger threads of mystery and philosophical tension. I clarified the worldbuilding of Amorphya, making it feel lived-in and fractured, as it always should have been. It’s not just a facelift. It’s a new incarnation of a story that’s haunted me for years.

A Return to Themes That Still Matter

What surprised me most was how relevant the original themes still are to me now. Even across all my other work—including The Galatean Saga and even some of my poems—there’s one thread I keep pulling:

I’m endlessly fascinated by belief.

By what happens when people hold their convictions tightly enough to act on them. By the fallout of those actions. By the moment faith becomes doubt—or deeper faith.

With a background in sociology and human resources, and now working in engineering, I guess it makes sense. I’ve always been drawn to the structures behind human behavior. What shapes individuals? What fuels collective movements? What happens when ideology turns into action?

The Order of the Sacred Vow explores all of that. And this new edition lets it breathe in ways it couldn’t before.

So here we are. A second edition. A new beginning for a story I never really let go of.

Thank you for reading—and for walking into Amorphya with me once more.

Scoring the Sacred: A Soundtrack for Portia’s Journey

As the new edition of The Order of the Sacred Vow took shape, I found myself hearing it—literally. The sounds of Amorphya, the silence before a sacred strike, the chants of devotion before doubt. I began composing and curating an original concept album to score the novella’s emotional landscape. Each track maps to key moments, characters, and philosophical beats in the story. It’s music not just for ambiance—but for immersion.

You can now listen to the full concept album on Bandcamp, or stream it directly from my blog. Think of it as a soundscape for your reading, or a companion for your own reflections on belief, duty, and what lies beyond obedience.

🎧 Listen Now: The Order of the Sacred Vow

I didn’t grow up with instruments. Or studios. Or the idea that creativity was something you could pursue seriously. I grew up in Eastern Europe, in a small apartment with peeling paint and books borrowed from the library.

My mother raised me and my older brother on her own—our father left before I ever met him. All I know about him is what my mother told me: he was good with his hands: calligraphy, drawing, and woodburning. 

And I guess, somehow, I got that creativity from him, too. Also from my mother, who appears to have no creative bone in her, and yet she tells some stories with the power of conjuring images and feelings and build up worlds with nothing but spoken words.

We Had Nothing—But We Had Imagination.

We didn’t have toys, not really. But we had stories. Our favorite game was called “let’s pretend.” We didn’t know it at the time, but we were playing role-playing games—with our words, our voices, and the fierce worldbuilding that only two children who have nothing but each other can create.

That instinct—to imagine, to tell stories, to build entire lives in silence—never left me.

First, it came out in drawings. The halls of my school were covered in my watercolors.

Then came poetry. A teacher once referred me to a local publisher. I was so proud—until I realized the man behind the “opportunity” was just another predator hiding behind polite words. I learned something important then: in this world, talent is never enough. Especially if you’re a girl. Especially if you’re poor. Especially if you refuse to play someone else’s game.

So I Chose Survival.

I knew I wouldn’t make it as an artist—not without connections, not without money, and not without selling pieces of myself I wasn’t willing to give.

So I did what many of us do: I chose learning.

University. Master’s. A career that could pay the bills and help my aging mother—the woman who worked 40 years as a seamstress without ever compromising her values, even when there was nothing in the fridge and bills piling up.

I didn’t want to starve as an artist, because I already had as a kid.

I remember going to the flea market as a twelve-year-old to sell things from our home just to make it to my mother’s next salary. That kind of memory doesn’t fade—it etches itself into your bones.

But it didn’t kill my imagination. It only made me more determined...

My First Computer Was a Portal.

I didn’t get a computer until university. We couldn’t afford one before that. But when I finally did, it was like someone handed me a key to a locked room inside my chest.

I made flipbook animations with paper and pen before I ever had a mouse. Then Paint. Then Windows Movie Maker—slow, glitchy, but magic. I dabbled in sound, in images, in every medium that would have me.

Not because I wanted to be famous, but because I couldn’t stop imagining.

I didn’t call myself an artist.

But I never stopped being one.

And Now I Use AI—And I’m Told That Makes Me Fake?

Today, I finally have access to tools I only dreamed of growing up. I can write the stories in my head and score them. I can build worlds where words and music and images intertwine.

I can give voice to a saga I’ve carried in silence for years—stories like Moonborn and the Galatean Saga, where sound is emotion, and emotion is survival.

And now that I can make music, really make it... I'm told it doesn't count because I used AI.

As if anyone who’s never seen the years I spent reaching for creation has the right to tell me what I am.

And because I use tools like Suno or ElevenLabs or Midjourney or Kling to build what I couldn't afford to create any other way—I’m told I’m not a “real” artist?

By people who didn’t see the market stalls.

Didn’t see the paper sketches.

Didn’t see the girl who was told not to bother learning guitar because the family couldn’t afford one.

Didn’t see the poems that never got published because a man wanted something in return.

Didn’t see me learning, experimenting, failing, trying again—for years—just for the joy of it.

That judgment hurts.

But I won’t let it stop me.

Because these stories inside me—they’re mine.

And no one gets to take them away.

For Anyone Who’s Felt the Same

If you’ve been dismissed, laughed at, talked over—

If you’ve been told that AI tools are “cheating,” or that your voice isn’t real because it’s carried by new technology—

I want you to know this:

You are not fake.

You are not less.

You are not late.

You are not alone.

You’re a creator.

And the way you create doesn’t need to fit someone else’s mold.

It just needs to be yours.

I’m Still Here. Still Making. Still Imagining.

I may not have started with much.

But I have this now:

A voice. A story. A universe.

And the tools to finally bring it to life.

AI didn’t hand me a shortcut.

It handed me back a dream I thought I’d never reach.

So no, I’m not here to argue about whether it’s “real.”

I’m just here to create.

And if you're the same—welcome.

Keep building. Keep dreaming.

We’re the real ones.

The quiet ones.

The ones who never stopped imagining.

I Wasn’t Supposed to Be an Artist. But I Never Stopped Creating.

Ten weeks ago, I started this series with the goal of exploring how AI can enhance, not replace, the creative writing process. And what a journey it’s been!

The world of AI is developing at an insane speed, and whether we like it or not, it’s here to stay. As authors and creatives, we can either ignore it, resist it, and hate it—or we can learn to use it to our advantage. Personally? I think we have a lot more to gain by experimenting with AI, figuring out where it fits into our process, and using it as a powerful tool to expand our creative reach.

Because here’s the thing: AI will never replace human creativity.

A tool is just a tool. It’s the human mind behind it that makes it meaningful.

The Unfair Advantage: Writers vs. Other AI Users

Here’s something interesting—I truly believe that writers have an advantage over many other AI users. Why? Because we know how to describe things vividly.

Other people might struggle with crafting good prompts, but we? We write for a living.

When we apply those skills to AI-generated writing, images, or even music, we get far better results than the average user.

It’s not about letting AI do the work for us—it’s about using it as a creative extension.

Tips for Writers Experimenting with AI

What’s Next? Let’s Keep the Conversation Going!

This marks the end of this series, but the discussion doesn’t have to stop here.

Drop a comment on the blog post or reach out on social media—I’m on almost every platform, and I’d love to keep the conversation going!

Thanks for following along on this journey, and happy writing! ✨

To celebrate the release of my second edition of The Order of the Sacred Vow, I’ve launched a subscriber gateway into my fictional universes.

✨ Join my newsletter and receive your choice of welcome gift:

• 🎼 Moonborn: Songs of Defiance (Galatean Saga Concept Album)
• 📕 The Ritual Edition – Concept Album + Lore Booklet
• 📘 The Order of the Sacred Vow eBook
• ✒️ Poems from a Monster – A raw and intimate poetry collection

➡️ Sign up here: Join the Worlds of Jasmine P. Antwoine

The city of Amorphya is many things: sacred, decaying, and built on truths no one dares to question. Until now.

I'm beyond thrilled to announce the official release of the Second Edition of The Order of the Sacred Vow, the first book in my speculative fantasy series, The Lost Dreams of Amorphya.

This edition is not just a reprint—it’s a facelift, a philosophical sharpening, and a tonal recalibration. It's the book I always meant to release. And it's finally here.

📘 Get the Book: Now available on Kindle and Paperback 📘

What's it about?

At its core, The Order of the Sacred Vow is about faith, obedience, and the moment those things begin to fracture.

We follow Portia Cormack, an elite enforcer of a religious regime known as the Order. Trained to uphold righteousness and eradicate heresy, she begins the book with absolute loyalty. But war, memory, and a strange event involving a forbidden Dream begin to peel back the veil.

This is not a rebellion story. This is the story of a crack. A question. A first fracture in the armor of belief.

Amorphya is a world teetering between scripture and science, where dreams are worshipped, but no one truly understands where they come from.

Why a Second Edition?

Because Portia deserved more. Because Amorphya deserved more.

This version includes:

• Deeper character psychology (especially Portia’s indoctrination and first real doubt)
• More layered worldbuilding—history, factions, myths
• Sharper prose and tightened pacing
• Stronger thematic resonance with the series to come

The World Expands

This book is just the beginning.

The Lost Dreams of Amorphya will unfold across seven interwoven volumes, exploring memory, myth, control, and what it means to believe in a world built on manipulation.

If you love slow-burn philosophical fantasy, morally grey institutions, and protagonists who unravel rather than rebel—you’re exactly who I wrote this for.

🔥 CONTEST: #DrawAmorphya

Do you see the city differently? Good.

Artists and dreamers—submit your version of Amorphya for a chance to name a future character and receive the full series in ebook form.

Full contest details in the back of the book.

⚔️

Thank you for being here at the start of this journey. Portia’s story begins in obedience.

It won’t end that way.

— Jasmine P. Antwoine

Let’s be honest—most people are visual creatures. Sure, we can imagine images while reading, but when given the choice, a lot of people would rather see a story unfold than piece it together in their minds. That’s why the film industry completely overshadows publishing in terms of revenue and reach.

I’m not saying books are dying (far from it), and personally? I’ll take a novel over a movie adaptation 95% of the time. But for many people, visual storytelling is more accessible—it’s easier to engage with a trailer than pick up a book by an author they’ve never heard of.

So why not use that to our advantage? Instead of just hoping readers stumble upon our books, we can meet them where they already are—on video platforms, gaming spaces, and interactive media—and invite them into our worlds before they even turn a page.

1. AI Video Creation: Making a Trailer for Your Book

Think about the last time a movie trailer grabbed your attention. The music, the quick flashes of action, the way it made you feel something before you even knew the full story.

Why not do that for a book?

A book teaser—even a simple one—can:

🎬 Set the mood and intrigue potential readers.

📖 Make your story stand out in a sea of books.

👀 Attract people who love movies and shows but rarely pick up a novel.

Now, will everyone who watches your book trailer suddenly rush to buy it? Probably not. But even if 10% do, that’s a win.

And honestly? Creating something visual tied to your story is just plain exciting. Seeing the world you built take shape—even in short form—makes it feel real in a whole new way.

2. Storytelling Beyond the Page: Why I’m Creating a Visual Novel

Books aren’t the only way to tell a great story. Why not experiment with different formats?

I’ve been playing with the idea of a visual novel to complement my Galatean Saga. It won’t be a full-blown anime, but even with static images, I can add:

🎭 Character expressions & movement to bring dialogue to life.

🎮 Interactive choices so players feel like they’re part of the story.

This opens the door to a whole new audience—people who love anime, gaming, and immersive experiences.

Will all of them suddenly become book readers? Nope. But some of them might. If they fall in love with the world, maybe they’ll want to explore more of it—and that’s where my novels come in.

3. The Unexpected Joy of Seeing Your World Move

When I first started experimenting with AI video, it was mostly a “let’s see what happens” kind of thing. But the moment I saw my world brought to life, I was hooked.

• It’s incredibly satisfying to see characters and places you’ve only written about suddenly moving on a screen.
• It makes the whole creative process feel fresh again—like discovering a new way to play in your own sandbox.
• And let’s be real—it’s just fun.

If you’ve ever thought about doing something visual with your book—whether it’s a trailer, a motion comic, a short animation, or even a visual novel—I say go for it. Even if it’s just for you, it’s worth it.

Final Thoughts

At the end of the day, books aren’t going anywhere—but the way we engage with stories is changing.

📢 Why not try something new? Maybe a trailer to hook potential readers. Maybe an interactive experience that draws people into your world.

Because the more ways you invite people into your universe, the more likely they are to want to stay and explore it.

🚀 Next up: Wrapping Up "How I Use AI in My Writing Process" Series. Post #10

🔔 Follow along so you don’t miss the next post!