As we close in on November, the writing community is still hotly debating NaNoWriMo's recent statement on Artificial Intelligence.
My plan was to stay away from the debate entirely. It's way too soon in the development of this technology to speak with absolute authority about any of it. Besides, it's not like anyone needs this organization to participate in the challenge. You can just as easily form a group on social media and cheer each other toward your fifty thousand word goal.
But after a while, I realized most people were missing the point. Which isn't surprising, since most people don't get A.I. to begin with. It's become an umbrella term that seemingly anyone can apply to a product or service even if it doesn't apply. Those pushing an apocalyptic narrative have often never used these tools. And the ones advocating for them seem to think it's far more sophisticated than it actually is.
Still, there's reason to worry. Geniune A.I. is more advanced than anything we've seen before. And it learns faster than any of us could imagine. But as a writer, it just doesn't keep me up at night. I'm not concerned about machine learning destroying my career prospects for one simple reason: machines can't create.
If that statement confuses you, you're not alone. The problem lies in our understanding of the word. To create is to bring something into existence. Computers can't do that. They can only synthesize, which is to say they can take parts of a concept to create a whole. You can't buy a new computer, plug it in, and get a novel. It requires input. No source material? No A.I.
It's that simple.
So why does this matter? If you're on the chicken little side of the argument, it means we need to advocate for protecting our existing body of work. We could insist that these tools need our permission to use our writing to inform the technology. That gives policy makers an actionable request instead of doomsday scenarios with no legitimate solution.
But there's another reason. We've been slacking as a species.
For too long, we've chosen the safer, more comfortable path of adaptation over invention. Rather than forge entirely new paths, we've gotten skilled at redecorating well-worn ones. Without question, there's real value in this. We understand an issue inside and out when we look at it from different vantage points. But modification is not true creation.
So what would happen if we had more room in our day to focus on brand new things? Where would our society be if we had more creators instead of synthesizers? How many of our most dire problems would be fixed by now? What if we rejected refinement in favor of revolution?
The work of writing can be tedious and difficult, not to mention time consuming. And every writer knows very well their strengths and weaknesses. Personally, I've learned to value technology simply because it helps me focus. I only have a certain number of hours I'll be able to create while living this life. Should I spend it agonizing over a P.O.V. shift? Or should I let Claude take a look at it while I dream up my next character? Should I get into a heated debate in the comments section about whether A.I. will destroy human storytelling? (an endeavor that has survived 36,000 years) or should I get back to work on my next novel?
You know what? I think just made my decision...
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