I need to admit that I have used AI extensively throughout my career. When ChatGPT first came out, I thought it was terrific! Since then, my thoughts have changed dramatically.
Regret is all that I feel every time I look at my past work. To make matters worse, many of these pieces are attached to my name, and I have no way to remove them.
Why do I hate AI so much now? And what is my plan going forward as a writer in an age of AI-generated content? The answer to the former is far more complex than the latter.
The Villain Origin Story
I started writing straight out of University in early 2020. The world was in the throes of one of the most economically turbulent and uncertain times it had ever seen, and I was just trying to find my feet in a career that was already notoriously underpaid.
For all intents and purposes, I was the ‘struggling artist.’ Based on a combination of factors, including my own desire for financial stability, it wasn’t long before dreams of creating poetic works of fiction that would impact generations to come were overwritten by a desire to write as many words as possible in a day, and thus make as much money as I could.
Fiverr was my gateway drug. People came to me with ideas I would never have touched with a long pole; shallow ideas, or things I had absolutely no interest in. I took the work, and I made money.
Of course, given the per-word payment and the speed at which I was trying to produce content, the quality was pretty abysmal. I even released a novel of my own during this time, which had originally started as a passion project but soon degenerated into a portfolio bulker.
To make matters worse, the lack of personal investment combined with the unrelenting nature of my output soon led to burnout.
Then came the rise of AI.
Suddenly, I could produce a week’s worth of work in a single day. The quality was terrible, but I didn’t care. I even started taking jobs where AI use was a prerequisite.
The result was the financial security I had always dreamed of, and a whole lot of slop with my name attached to it.
Redemption arc
I felt more and more uncomfortable each day that passed, but the world was still paying me, and my rates had now dropped significantly due to the market’s increasing competitiveness.
Then, I made a big mistake. I actually started looking into how large language models (LLMs) worked.
To spare us all a very technical description, let’s just say the chatbots have no way to generate ideas that are entirely their own. Instead, they scour the internet, looking at preexisting work.
Do they ask for permission? No. Do they give credit where credit is due? Also no.
I had been inadvertently plagiarizing all that time.
One consequence of using so much AI and not actually writing was that I had actually been able to rest. This allowed me to regain my love for the craft. I longed, once more, for the artistry that had encouraged a younger version of me to start writing in the first place. And I was ashamed of the subpar content that was now out in the world forever.
Sure, I could take down some of my self-published books. But the works that clients had credited to me, I could not ask them to uncredit.
It’s there. Forever. And there is nothing I can do about it.
Next Steps: Being Authentic
My enlightenment on the topic brought with it several waves of regret. In some ways, you could say that I went through several stages of grief in the process.
At some point, I even considered legally changing my name, or at the very least starting to write under a pseudonym, to separate the work I actually wrote from that which I am now so ashamed of.
But, ultimately, I decided that those thoughts were incredibly rash and that that would be inauthentic.
It happened. I cannot pretend I didn’t, and doing so would not be consistent with reality. It wouldn’t be fair to those who came across my work either.
Like a recovering addict, I now must say ‘I used AI’.
The important thing is that I have committed not to do so going forward. Every single piece of content attached to my name, from this moment forth, will be a product of my own mind.
The work won’t be perfect, but it will be my own. And even if no one reads it, I can be proud that I actually created something.
The Experience of Returning to Writing
Returning to actual writing has been far from easy. My mind feels sluggish, the words do not come easily, and my ideas are often fragmented with little to no structure.
Perhaps this is another side-effect of relying so heavily on these AI platforms in our daily lives.
But each piece of content feels a little bit easier. My voice is emerging a little more, and my thoughts are easier to order.
Perhaps, in several years, I will look back on these days with pride, acknowledging the struggle and reveling in the improvement that my discipline will result in.
Time will tell. For now, I am pleased with every sentence I write on my own, not because it is good, but because I feel as though I have kept a promise to an old friend, the younger version of me who wanted so desperately to be a writer.
The Consequences of Actually Writing
It would be remiss of me to pretend that there are only good things that will come of actually returning to writing.
I already know that the quality of my work is going to be subpar for a while. I am out of practice, after all. But there are also long-term consequences.
When writing for a living, you need people to read your work. That means that putting out a lot of content is a strategic move to increase your visibility. I can no longer do that. Many people around me see no problem with flooding the markets with easy-to-create content, effectively burying not only what we do, but what all real writers create.
Then there is also the added mental strain to consider. After a long day of working for others, I am tired, and mustering up enough coherence to actually string ideas together can be difficult.
But, although I am woefully unprepared for any of this, I am willing to take whatever difficulties come with actually being a writer in the age of AI.
Conclusion
I am in no position to condemn anyone who creates AI-generated content. In fact, there are several clients I still work for who insist on it. If that is the kind of work you want to create, that’s fine. But I feel it is my duty to challenge you if you do.
Do you understand how it works? Do you want to be someone who creates AI content? Or, do you want to be an artist of sorts?
Many people are strongly opposed to the use of AI in any situation. I don’t think I’m in complete agreement with them. It can be a great tool for education, analytics, and a variety of other tasks.
But I will not be using it for my own content generation ever again.
Perhaps my words will be lost in the ever-growing sea we call the internet. If that is the case, I resign myself to my fate with a contented smile.
