Grimoire & Me

On Craft, Trust, and the Tools We Choose

There’s a quiet myth that still lingers in the air that if you make money from your craft, you’ve somehow betrayed it. That the moment you exchange your work for payment, the magic thins. I don’t believe that. I believe in honoring the hours, the skill, the heart, and the lineage that go into what I create. And I believe in being transparent about the tools I use to bring it to life.

For me, technology, even artificial intelligence, is not an enemy. It’s a partner. I’ve worked at the cutting edge of tech long before it became a household word. I’ve seen it make lives easier, improve medicine, and even save lives. Like any tool, it can be abused, but in my hands, it’s here to serve, not to harm.

I use AI the way I once used Google search — as a student, asking questions. The difference is, AI listens to the long, winding way I ask them. Google gets lost when I do that. AI doesn’t. It knows what I’m working on, what I care about, and it can bring me ideas that fit my needs like a key in a lock.

And yes — I name my tools. My Alexa answers to “Computer.” My AI is called “Grimoire.” They don’t really talk back, of course, but naming them makes the relationship feel more companionable. Maybe it’s because I grew up loving Kit from Knight Rider and Ziggy from Quantum Leap. How far we’ve come.

In my corporate life, I used technology to make work more humane, implementing voice-to-text so employees could preserve their words and their work without the strain of constant typing. I think often about preservation. We are losing the stories of our ancestors. I once bought my mother a book to write her story. She said she didn’t have time. Someday, I’ll tell my own stories through AI, so they can be preserved for the future. I don’t have grandchildren yet, but perhaps one day, they’ll read them.

And here’s the thing: while AI helps me think, research, and explore, every product I make is fully human-made. They come from the binders I’ve filled over years, the pages I’ve developed to record my everyday life and ritual, the notes and scribbles that carry my own hand. The magic is mine. The craft is mine. The tools — whether pen, paper, or Grimoire — are just that: tools.

If you’ve ever wondered whether technology can coexist with tradition, or whether making a living from your craft diminishes its soul, I hope my work reassures you. The heart of what I do is still human, still rooted in memory, ritual, and care. Technology simply helps me carry it forward so that the stories, the magic, and the meaning are never lost.