“The gigantic red dragon was absolutely destroying the Azure Shores Luxury Resort.
Its wings smashed through a row of glass-domed gardens, raining tropical orchids and steel beams onto the pristine infinity pool below. A cabana exploded in fire as its tail lashed sideways, scattering deck chairs and sending jet skis cartwheeling across the sand. The air was thick with the crackle of VR fire, the shriek of simulated tourists.”
I froze.
I was supposed to be editing my latest novel. The manuscript was open in the Google Doc right in front of me.
But I couldn’t keep going.
Because the scene had come so vividly to life in my imagination that I suddenly saw it — not as text…
…but as a blockbuster movie poster.
So I went to my trusty friend ChatGPT and dropped the opening paragraph.
“Can you make art of this?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” my AI ally replied. “This scene is perfect for a hyper-cinematic illustration.”
It wasn’t wrong.
As the art rendered in, I could practically hear the trailer voiceover:
“It’s the far future…
Everyone lives inside a virtual reality multiverse where you can experience any world you want.
5-star luxury resort.
Epic fantasy quest.
Solarpunk utopia.
You name it — you can live it.
But sometimes…
There’s a glitch.”
A gigantic red dragon.
Flames ripping through the air.
Wings smashing apart a cabana.
Lounge chairs burning.
“Sometimes something ends up where it doesn’t belong.
Who do you call?”
I needed a second illustration.
A hero standing between the dragon and the ruined resort.
Back to camera.
Shoulders squared.
Weapon glowing.
Quick as thought, my AI comrade generated it:
“Meet Nikolas Frost — The Company’s #1 Troubleshooter.”
I swear my adrenaline spiked.
It felt like a trailer for the kind of movie I would watch opening night:
High concept.
Massive action.
Big heart.
Vivid world.
A hero so competent you want to follow him anywhere.
“Troubleshooter: Master of the Matrix.
Book 1 coming soon.
When the multiverse crashes…
He shows up to fix it.”
I leaned back.
Let out a breath.
Nodded a couple times like the guy who just watched his own movie trailer and went:
Yeah.
That’s it.
That’s why I wrote this book.
Because it feels so epic I want to watch it play again and again on the movie screen of my imagination.
Would you read this book?
Do you know someone who might?
Hit Comment and tell me.
Now… I should get back to editing.
Sipping an espresso by a virtual pool,
Jack