stop asking writers about "AI"

There are questions every person I meet asks, and I’m getting sick of answering. Worse, the newest of these questions has been severely harming my motivation to write for several years.

I didn’t want to talk about this, but I’m beginning to think I need to. Hopefully, if I get this off my chest, I’ll be able to move on to writing about things I love.

the dreaded question

Every time I tell someone new that I’m a writer, they pause for a moment, then ask the same question: “So, what do you think about AI?”

Seriously, almost every person asks this eventually.

My boilerplate answer is that “I have serious technical, professional, and ethical concerns with the development and use of AI.”

People rarely let me leave it there.

having the conversation

Usually, I’ve actually made the effort and had the conversation. I explain that so-called “Artificial Intelligence” isn’t anywhere near the quality of writing serious authors reach. I explain that when people want to read a book, they’re really wanting to read the creation of another real person, and that you can’t relate to a machine.

I explain the systemic harm the technology has already caused to my craft and what damage it’s still likely to do, with no actual benefit.

But I’m really, really tired of having the conversation. Because it’s the same conversation over and over and over again, usually with no actual signs that the person I’m talking to cares enough to change their mind.

Often, they pivot the conversation to how they use AI. As far as I can tell, all these people really want is for me to validate them, so that they can tell people, “Yeah, even this writer I know who is critical of AI thinks my use-case is okay.”

I mean, I’m not gonna tell them to their face that any claimed “use case” at all perpetuates a belief that things will get better later with AI, and that this belief itself is most of what’s causing all the problems today. I’m not going to tell someone I just met to their face that their harmless pastime is validating the creation of technology that devalues human labor and creativity for the enrichment of the 1% who are salivating at the thought of laying off all their workers to get yet another billion dollars they’ll never live long enough to spend.

I’m too polite to say that to their faces. Maybe that’s my problem.

Some people mean well when asking. Some people are genuinely curious to hear my view.

Just asking the question, though, is the problem, for me.

the harm of the question

When your first thought at hearing about the craft I practice is of a technology that is fundamentally incapable of making a difference to that craft and is created with the goal of devaluing my effort and hard work, that tells me that you don’t value me.

When you ask me what I think about AI as if that has any actual relevance to the work I do, that tells me you don’t actually care about my work.

If I tell someone I published a book after meeting them in person, I expect they would want to read it. That’s my own reaction when someone tells me about what they’ve written. If I told someone instead that I asked ChatGPT to write a book so I could put my name on it, would they actually care? Would they ask how to get a copy?

Of course not. Because people want to read things that other people have written. AI is completely irrelevant to that; it isn’t a person, as much as the companies making it would like you to pretend it is.

No one cares that ChatGPT can write a novel. No one cares if the novels it writes are enjoyable to read, because that’s not why we read.

But when you ask me that awful, misguided question as if you’re equating my writing with that trash, it makes me wonder if my writing actually matters. I begin to lose motivation to write. I begin wondering how truthful it is anymore to call myself a writer when I dread putting pen to paper.

That’s where I’ve been stuck for three years now. Some of you may have read a story or two from me, such as ”Those Who Breathe Easy” which was published last August or the series of mythology stories a few kind people have been beta reading for me, but I really haven’t been able to get much written. Every word is a struggle with my own self-doubt, fighting the worry that even if I do the work no one will care.

And every time I talk myself out of that pit, a new person asks me, “So, what do you think about AI?”

Please, I implore you, stop asking writers about AI.

my actual visions of the future of art

Let’s take a break from that depressing talk. Let’s talk about what I actually expect of the future. Let’s have that conversation for a minute. Now that you know what it costs me to take the thought of AI seriously even for a moment, hopefully you can actually listen and maybe accept some new ideas. Maybe you also hate AI already; this vision of the future can be a bit of hope for you.

AI can’t replace human art, and it never will—but, eventually, our bosses might think...