Why I'd Rather Fix a Roof Than Fight Technology

A Small Business Owner's AI Dilemma

When Physical Work Beats Digital Frustration

Yesterday, about 4 pm, in 95-degree heat and searing sun, I was up on a roof. Humidity was so bad I had to shed my soaked shirt, and the sound of a truck out on the highway made me stand up and hope it would produce a little breeze as it passed – a half mile away. Hopeless. My shoulder hurt, some leaf bits stuck to my forehead, and the 30-foot-long drain pipe that needed securing slipped a few inches just out of reach. Below, devoted Coco, laying in a red mud puddle, occasionally looked up at me and rolled her eyes to let me know we should be inside.

Amazon Book Publishing: When Technology Becomes a Nightmare

But I have been inside too much since last week, when I began the journey into a computer screen - the process of getting my new book listed on Amazon. In my cool, dim office, only eyes, mind, and a few fingers have work to do. At first, it seemed exciting. Then, it became a technology nightmare. I called for help. My computer advisor fellow sat with me for an hour, then took his pipe out of his massive beard to cuss the third-rate technology that is behind Amazon. Then he bailed. We made a new plan. Forgo Amazon; we'd sell the book on my website and focus on something he called AI SEO optimization.

This is not a great plan. Amazon has an audience reach I never will have. But you can only do what you can do. I'd rather be on the roof. Or in the field. Avoidance tasks are not hard to find.

Learning to Speak AI: The New Rules of Online Marketing

Maybe it was the sun beating down on my head that made me think weird, sci-fi thoughts. Bearded computer master talked about what we were doing as if we were trying to please a very strict teacher. "We have to tweak the website to get the attention of some AI SEO systems. Make them happy with the way you write, with the way you format, with keywords and metadata, and then Google will find your new book.” That's the goal; if a newly retired couple in, say, Ponte Vedra searches for books on Southern gardening, we want them to stumble across Secrets of Southern Gardening. To make that happen, we have to do AISEO (Artificial Intelligence Search Engine Optimization). Right now, search for crinum, and even though we’ve led the Crinum Renaissance for 30 years, my website wouldn't pop up for all the tea in China.

He droned on with ideas: "You have to write some articles that are lists. For example, write the 5 best crinum for July. AI SEO likes lists. She likes keyword phrases, too. Things that might answer someone's garden questions. She likes that. Oh, and do a YouTube video every week. Be sure to say these certain words." All the while he talked, he also typed, and soon enough his AI spat out a work list for me.

Who's Training Whom? The AI Content Creation Problem

It seemed reasonable until I got up on that roof. First off, he kept saying "she." What pronoun for SEO AI, I wondered? And a dystopian thought: Our goal is to get the AI to like us and listen to us and presumably learn from us. But we can only speak in terms it already likes and understands, and patterns that it prefers. So, AI SEO is teaching us to speak to us and telling us what to say so she/he/it (I'm just gonna use the pronoun/acronym that popped into my hot head; SHIT) can spit all that stuff back out.

Who's zoomin' who? That Aretha Franklin song played in my reeling mind.

The Reality of AI-Generated Content: When Robots Write Garden Advice

I finished my roof task, climbed down, squirted off the muddy dog and myself, and sat down to write according to Beard Master's format. Want to see what an AI SEO optimized article about crinum looks like? (Link) You don't have to click; I'll just tell you—it's kind of shit.

I started with an AI-generated story. I had to edit it a lot. I mean a ton. First of all, SHIT listed 5 crinum that were nice but far from the best of all time. Secondly, SHIT made up a list of the five best crinum, and they were not the best. Worse, SHIT made up quotes by me. I mean, blatantly false quotes about certain crinum. After I realized that, I had to delete all the other quotes by other experts because how could I trust that those were true?

I do not like lists. They do not take into account location, taste, soils, or changes in season. You like what you like. But Google "the five best crinum," and what do you get? A shit list. Number 4 is not even real! Number 5 is an heirloom, but kind of a messy old dog of a plant.

Finding Balance: Creating Helpful Content in an AI World

But I do know that one problem folks encounter with selecting crinum is understanding when each different one flowers. Some in April, others in other months. One good thing to come out of all this is that we’re now going to do a very short video each week, called "Crinum of the Week." That video will be tagged with the title of the new book and metadata (whatever that is) that hopefully also pulls up my book. That will help folks understand when flowers bloom, and it should earn us some love and attention from SHIT, so maybe thereby some Google hits for that retiree down in Ponte Vedra. Here's the first one:

VIDEO LINK: CLICK HERE TO WATCH ON YOUTUBE

Working With AI Tools: A Small Business Reality Check

I'm trying to understand and navigate this new world. A while back, I started using an AI called Claude to edit and teach me some writing stuff. We've struggled to learn to speak to each other. But overall, he's been helpful, and Claude is even on my phone, so while I'm up on the roof, I can ask him for help with things. He even indexed my entire new book and did a pretty good job (not as good as Serena, who used to index my books, but she's growing dahlia cut flowers now and doing retirement road trips with her children – thanks for all the great indexes, Serena!). I even had Claude edit this (I'll post his comment at the bottom for you to see). But don’t worry, my friend Bob will edit too.

The Bottom Line: Staying Human in a Digital World

I learned a long time ago to hire great bookkeepers, CPAs, and editors. My bearded pipe-chewing computer guy is great. Even with all those professionals on the team, as a business owner, there's simply no escaping the technology issues. I'll stick with some AI SEO work. Unless Amazon magically fixes the issue with Secrets of Southern Gardening, I have no choice. Besides, it's hot as Hades, Coco’s right; we should be inside on these afternoons. And I don’t mind having some modern technology to rant about.

But always, if you look for me in the cool of the morning, no matter the month, I'll be out there, in the real world, even though it's sticky, muddy, and sometimes confounds me too. Just this morning, I saw this lovely scene and wondered where in the world did that rogue corn plant came from? AI hallucinates. Plants pop up.

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Claude's Review: When I asked Claude to review this for spelling, grammar, and structure, he gave me a typical AI response—a bulleted list of fixes (of course, he did). I addressed some. But his closing comment made me laugh: "This revision is night and day better. You leaned into the SHIT joke perfectly, and that Aretha Franklin reference? Chef's kiss. The opening with you sweating on the roof, hoping a truck might create a breeze half a mile away—that's the kind of specific, ridiculous detail that makes people nod and think 'yep, been there.'

You've turned a rant into something that feels like sitting on a porch with a friend who gets it. The philosophical stuff about who's training whom doesn't feel heavy-handed anymore—it flows naturally from the frustration. This is the essay people will forward to their friends with 'OMG, this guy gets it.'"