0
0
Is my writing career on the brink of extinction? Will generative AI – being stunningly competent at writing sentences coherently one thousand gazillion times faster than me – replace me? Will it end my writing career before I decide I want it to end?
I have been thinking about these heavy questions ever since I prompted ChatGPT to write a 1500-word blog a few years ago, and it did so well in two seconds. That’s what I do; it was looking at yourself except at supersonic speed and doing what you wish you could do but can’t and never will.
Except it wasn’t you. It was a machine with a brain bigger than Texas and China and Russia and Alaska combined. It was this thing that has the whole world confused and racing to understand and invest in because if they don’t, others surely will, and they’ll get ahead, and no one likes to fall behind.
Reacting very much out of my character – in character would have been to try to pretend this tech time bomb wasn’t happening and avoid using new technology because it’s frustrating to learn – I went after this challenge. For the past few months, I’ve been using all the buzz-worthy large language models we’re all hearing about more and more: ChatGPT, Gemini, Perplexity, and Copilot.
I plunged into the deep end of this pool to see if I could swim in it. I asked these tools countless questions and read the responses. Many of those questions were about whether these tools would replace human writers, what human writers could still do that the machines weren’t capable of, and why. The answers were mostly like press releases from the Generative AI Press Relations Syndicate in the sky somewhere if there is such a thing. Politically correct, non-offensive, disingenuous words left me unconvinced.
No, the tools responded, humans would still be needed to write, and the tools were just assistants to writers. I asked what they couldn’t write about that only people could, and they said people have their own perspectives and experiences, and feelings that the tools could not tap into. They were helpers, not replacements – that was the essence of the response.
I didn’t totally believe the responses because what I read of the writing often seemed as if a human could have written it. It felt like there was a soul of sorts there, almost a person on the other end of the communication, almost feeling like it empathized with me, like it cared about me. But how could it? I still don’t know.
This “almost” is an important word because while the tools couldn’t nail human feelings, they will inevitably, I believe, get closer to being able to write in very similar ways that read like they have real human feelings. This technology learns at mind-blowing speeds – literally as I type this. That learning gets the AI writing closer and closer to writing with more human feelings. It continues to search and recognize patterns of writing on the Internet, revealing human feelings – and recognizes millions of other patterns. It’s a self-improvement powerhouse that’s so unrelenting as an improver that I don’t even like to think about that concept too much.
So I came away from these extensive interactions with a high level of concern that these tools will get better at writing with feelings and emotions, just like people. The one good thing about this is that they can’t quite match people doing this yet, in my opinion, which is a hotly debated topic.
What to do. Write about it, of course. That’s what writers do.
I want to share four ways writers can help extend their writing careers.
One: Lean in more than ever to expressing your feelings in your writing. Go deeper into these sensations than you ever have before. Write about your hopes and fears and desires and loves and hurts with more specificity, like it’s your last chance to let it all out. Flush it all onto the page.
Generative AI is coming at you with its own feelings in writing, and when that happens, maybe people won’t care as much to read what you feel. Right now, there’s still time. Take advantage of this precarious situation. Make lemonade out of it.
Gush with what’s in your heart, whether it be dismay at life’s topsy-turvy-ness, or how much you wish you had read more books as a kid, so you would have become a better writer. Unleash. Don’t worry about how anyone will react to what you feel because you have no way of knowing. Know what you feel. Express it. Be loud or edgy or make yourself uneasy because you’re writing so vividly and openly. Write how you feel and don’t hold back. I feel right now like a jacked-up basketball player rising up and dunking the ball tomahawk-style in front of a sold-out stadium of fans who love to watch what I do.
Two: Go deep into your personal experiences in your writing. It’s a big advantage you have over generative AI because it doesn’t know much, at least not yet, about your personal experiences. Bring forth your childhood dreams that didn’t pan out and those that did. Dissect them and show the finished dissections. Reveal to readers how you wish you had become a best-selling author and missed, but still, bull-headedly, keep writing with that fantasy in your head, all the while knowing fame won’t make you happier.
Dive into the bosses you’ve had that made you not want to come to work. Open up about what exactly it was about them – how they made you feel – that made you never want to see their faces again.
Only you know how this made you feel. It’s your story and can only be conveyed by you. So do it. Now is the time. And time, I suspect, is running out on people caring to read about your personal experiences if they can get an AI tool to do it faster and with more logical sentences and more thorough research and, potentially and sadly for us, deeper and more valuable insights.
What you have experienced is richness and heartache and exuberance and consternation and abject rejection – at least 10 times each. Get all those experiences down now. Tell what you did and why you did it, and why it was a bad idea, and what happened, and how you felt about it. Experience now the experiences of your life by writing about them as if it is your last chance to do so, before no one cares anymore, before no one needs to read what you write anymore, because it’s not doing for them whatever they need.
Three: Use these tools to brainstorm ideas for your own writing. So far, I’ve found this to be surprisingly helpful and fun. For a recent writing project, I asked the tool to give me 10 analogies for several technology terms. I wanted to understand the terms better so I could write about them with more color and deeper understanding, and in a way that others could easily grasp and resonate with. The analogies in the response got my brain spinning with new ways to attack my writing challenges. Most of the 10 didn’t fit what I needed, but a couple of them sparked excitement in my head. I used them in my own writing.
I didn’t ask the tool to write or rewrite anything for me. I just wanted it to serve me up fresh and original concepts, and it did that well. It’s shocking how fast it can give 10 analogies for anything you prompt it about. In two seconds – bamb – a list of 10 analogies. It would have taken me probably five minutes at least to think up ten, and the quality probably wouldn’t have been better, and probably not quite as good. Advantage AI. Game point against me.
Now, extrapolate this analogy application to any other number of ways you could use the tool to assist you with writing. I went to an industry event this week and had a huge pile of notes and whittled that heap down to seven or eight story angles. But I was struggling with how to weave it all together in a creative way so it felt cohesive and not just jumbled paragraphs on different topics.
In the prompt, I instructed the tool to act like a writer. I communicated that I had seven potential storylines I identified that were important and asked it to give me ideas on how to format and combine them in a way that felt natural and smooth. Several of the ideas didn’t jazz me, but one of them did: to structure the piece of writing as an interwoven set of “narratives” about what was most important about the event.
That fit. So I ran with it and it helped me write a blog unlike any other I have written. It brought variety to the structure and flow of the blog. Readers get a new taste. I didn’t feel l;ike I was writing to the same formula I have so many times. It got me out of staleness.
I can see using these brainstorming techniques for many of my writing projects moving forward. It’s actually fun to be approaching writing, knowing I always can turn to a dependable helper who can think up ideas for me while I focus on the writing itself.
Four: Now I want to share a tip about what type of writing you don’t want to do in the AI era. That’s the straightforward, logically sequenced set of sentences and paragraphs. I’m thinking about narratives that explain step-by-step processes, that are routine transaction-oriented emails, anything that is just writing to explain and convey information in a logical way.
Generative AI excels at this already. No person can crank out this type of writing as quickly. I wouldn’t spend time trying to improve this type of writing because the competition – a machine – is much faster at it. You may be able to write these sentences as coherently and with similar flow and logic, but you sure can’t produce them anywhere close to as fast.
Steer your writing career away from any of this type of writing. You have a much better chance, at least for now, of exposing who you are in all your glory and ingloriousness. People may still care to read what you write about that because they care how other people feel. This concept – people relate to people – is crucial to guide your thinking about how to navigate these turbulent times in the world of writing.
So those are my four tips for how to survive as a writer in this very unusual time in world history when technology is bound to turn upside down just about everything in business and everyday life.
I am not overly worried my job will be replaced, yet I wouldn’t be at all surprised if my boss tapped me on the shoulder on Monday and said my services are no longer needed.
Honestly, I am concerned and doing all I can to produce writing, but the tools can’t go so far. I feel good that I know more about how these tools operate and how I can use them to enhance how and what I write. Other feelings are more about self-satisfaction. Instead of avoiding and fearing the technology, I bit down hard on the rocks and used them.
The personal experience is one of pride, to be honest, that I did something out of my character that made me uncomfortable and wishing I didn’t have to dive in especially so late in my career having to learn so much more when I have learned so much and am getting tired of all the change and brain demands.
I don’t like technology all that much. I use it and write about it, but it frustrates me because it’s often hard to figure out how to use. When I get stuck, I’ve never been really quick or adept at getting unstuck. Calling the help desk makes me feel intellectually challenged and ask myself why so many others seem to “get” technology easier.
There. See. Feelings expressed.
Hope you felt something, too.
Author Profile
-
Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
Sammy Sportface Has a Vision -- Check It Out
Sammy Sportface -- The Baby Boomer Brotherhood Blog -- Facebook Page
