AI helped me write my book - Wild Ducks Don't Fly in Formation. I would record transcripts of me talking about stories and concepts. Then use AI to generate prose that I would modify and have a ghost writer review/edit. Dramatically reduced time to produce a book. It was also very good, under proper prompting, at finding lessons. Example: Early in the mornings when growing up in the Smoky Mountains, my five-year-old sister, my seven-year-old brother, and I—just eight years old—had to leave the top of that mountain before sunrise. There were no lights, no neighbors, just a rocky road that wound down for two miles in the pitch dark. We’d stumble our way toward the highway, hoping the bus would come chugging along. By the time it did, there’d be a little line of kids gathered from scattered farmhouses, all of us standing there in the middle of nowhere. But the bus wasn’t just for elementary school kids. It was a rolling crucible—packed with everyone from first graders to high school seniors. An hour ride through the mountains, stopping at every hollow and ridge to gather up more children. Hard kids. Farm kids. Children of migrant workers. Kids who had already put in hours of work before sunrise. And then there was us: soft little outsiders who had come from suburbs, plump and untested. Those long school bus rides through the mountains weren’t just transportation; they were a crucible. Every jab, shove, and insult was a lesson in endurance. I didn’t know it then, but psychologists would later refer to it as resilience—the ability to adapt in the face of adversity. Resilience isn’t about ignoring pain or pretending you’re invincible. It’s about making meaning out of suffering, about standing up one more time than you’re knocked down. Viktor Frankl, the Holocaust survivor and psychiatrist, put it best: “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” If you want to build your own resilience edge, here are three practices to start: