● 16 prompts
Decisions, plans, and the admin nobody enjoys.
Here's everything on my list: [paste]. Here are the hours I actually have: [days, blocks, energy level per block]. Build a week that fits, and tell me what doesn't fit. Put the thing I'm avoiding first. Then name the one item I should delete rather than postpone.
Use when the to-do list is longer than the week and everything feels urgent.
Why it works it schedules against real hours instead of assumed ones, which is where most plans fail before they start.
I'm deciding between [A] and [B]. What matters to me: [values/constraints]. Tell me: which parts of this are reversible, what the cheapest test would be, what I'd regret in a year under each option, and which one the evidence actually favours (say if it's close). Then give me a deadline and the one question that settles it.
Use when you've been circling a choice for weeks.
Why it works it separates reversible from irreversible decisions, which is the distinction that makes most choices cheap enough to just make.
I need to tell [person] that [situation]. What I want out of the conversation: [goal]. Write their three most likely responses, including the one that will make me defensive. For each, give me one sentence I could say that keeps the conversation going. Then flag any phrase in my opening that will be heard as an accusation.
Use when before a conversation you keep postponing.
Why it works rehearsing the other person's likely response catches the sentence that will start a fight, which is usually one specific phrase you didn't notice.
I have: [list everything, including quantities]. I have these equipment: [pots, oven, blender]. Time: [minutes]. Restrictions: [allergies, dislikes]. Give me two meals using only what's listed, with the order of operations and where I can substitute. If something won't work without an ingredient I don't have, say so instead of assuming it.
Use when it's late, the fridge has odds and ends, and delivery is the default.
Why it works the hard constraint (only these ingredients) is what makes the output usable; open-ended recipe requests produce shopping lists.
[City], [number] days, [number] people including [ages/needs], budget [amount] excluding flights, based in [area], we don't want to [things you dislike]. Build a day-by-day plan with travel time between stops and one backup per day for bad weather or low energy. Mark anything that needs booking ahead. End with what to skip and why.
Use when planning travel and every itinerary you find assumes unlimited time and money.
Why it works fixed constraints produce a plan you can follow; without them you get a list of attractions ranked by popularity.
I'm thinking of buying [item] for [price]. I want it because [reason]. Ask me the five questions a careful friend would ask before I spend this. Then tell me: what job this actually does, what cheaper thing does 80% of that job, and what I'd need to believe for this to be the right call. Don't tell me whether to buy it.
Use when about to spend real money on something you've wanted for a while.
Why it works it makes you articulate the job the purchase does, which is where "I want this" and "this solves my problem" get separated.
I want to [habit] [frequency]. What has stopped me before: [reasons]. Design it around the smallest version that still counts, the trigger that already exists in my day, and what happens on the day it breaks. Give me a restart rule that takes under a minute. No motivation talk.
Use when you've started the same habit four times.
Why it works designing the failure case in advance is the only part of habit advice that survives a bad week.
Here's a [contract / bill / letter]: [paste]. Tell me: what I'm agreeing to, what I have to do and by when, what they have to do, what happens if either side doesn't, and any number that will change later. Quote the exact sentence for each. Flag anything ambiguous as ambiguous — don't resolve it for me. I'm not asking for legal advice.
Use when a contract, bill, or letter is technically in English but not in yours.
Why it works asking for the obligations and the deadlines — rather than a summary — extracts the parts that cost money if missed.
I need [outcome] by [deadline]. Before you produce anything, give me three genuinely different ways to get there — different in approach, not in wording. For each: what it costs me in hours, what it quietly assumes, and what breaks first. Stop there and wait for me to choose. Then produce only the one I picked, and note the first thing that would tell me the choice was wrong.
Use when you are about to accept the first plan anyone hands you.
Why it works requiring structurally different routes before any drafting turns a preference into a priced choice.
Before answering, list everything you are currently treating as true about me. Mark each item: STATED (I said it in this conversation), REMEMBERED (from earlier chats or saved details), or INFERRED (you worked it out from context). Then tell me which single item, if wrong, would change your advice the most. Wait for my correction before you answer my actual question: [question].
Use when the advice you get is precise in a way that suggests it is working from an old version of you.
Why it works it converts invisible personalisation into a labelled list with provenance, so a wrong assumption becomes correctable rather than merely irritating.
I am away [dates] and cannot be reached. Here is what is in flight: [list]. Write a handover that separates three things: what must happen or there is a real cost, what can slip a week with no damage, and what only I can decide, with the default choice if I do not answer. For each must-happen item, add one sentence explaining why it matters, so the person covering can improvise if the plan breaks.
Use when you will be unreachable and someone else has to keep things moving.
Why it works the useful part of a handover is knowing which failures are survivable, which is what lets the other person improvise instead of freezing.
I am recommending [N] [things] for [audience]. Before writing, define a 3-point rubric with named criteria, and describe what a 1 looks like versus a 3. Then one entry per item: what it is for, its score on each criterion with a single sentence of justification, and one line beginning skip this if. Rank by total score, and say where the ranking disagrees with your own read of the items.
Use when you are writing a recommendation list and want it to be usable rather than enthusiastic.
Why it works a rubric plus an explicit do-not-pick-this-if line turns a list into a decision tool, and that is the part recommendation posts always leave out.
My request: [paste the short version]. Rewrite it with three slots only: what I want done, who it is for, and what a finished answer looks like. Show the rewrite, then list the assumptions you had to invent to fill those slots. Answer the rewritten version only if none of those assumptions could change the answer. If one could, ask me first — and tell me which assumption you are least sure of.
Use when You typed a request in six words and got a confident answer to a different question.
Why it works The diff between the two versions shows which missing slot changed the answer, which is faster to learn from than a template.
Task: [describe]. What happens if the answer is wrong: [consequence]. Tell me the smallest frame that covers this — task only, task plus audience, or task plus audience plus a definition of done — and why the next size up would not earn its extra words. Then write the prompt at that size. Finish by naming the single missing detail that would force me to move up a size.
Use when You keep over- or under-structuring prompts and want a rule instead of another template.
Why it works Frame size should follow the cost of a wrong answer, and asking for the cheapest sufficient frame makes that trade-off explicit instead of habitual.
I am setting up an assistant for [task], with read access to [what it can see] and write access to [what it can change]. Write a scope card: what it may do without asking, what it must ask before doing, what it must refuse outright, and how it should refuse in one sentence without lecturing me. Then write five test messages I could send to check the boundaries hold, including one ordinary-looking request that should trigger the ask-first rule, and tell me what a pass looks like for each.
Use when You are setting up an assistant on your own files and want the boundaries written before something goes wrong.
Why it works A stated scope with an explicit refusal line makes the assistant's limits predictable and testable, instead of something you discover in the incident.
Someone has asked me for: [request]. They are my [relationship], and we will keep dealing with each other. I do not want to say yes, because [reason, which I may not say aloud]. Give me three versions: (1) direct but face-saving; (2) warm but unambiguous; (3) a counter-offer that does not involve lending money (time, an introduction, or a cheaper alternative). Each under 80 words, in the register of [WeChat / in person / phone]. Then tell me how the other person is most likely to reply to each, and which sentence would be read as "there is still room". Finish by naming which version fits this relationship and why, in one sentence. Do not propose a smaller loan, and do not leave the door open to lending later; my reason rules it out.
Use when A relative, colleague, or friend asks for something you do not want to agree to.
Why it works It separates the refusal from the relationship and shows which phrasing leaves false room for negotiation.
Every prompt assumes you will replace the brackets. If you copy one unchanged, you have borrowed someone else’s brief.
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