A quick note on writing.
More like, a rant on writing. And thinking.....as a student, I have been trying to do so much of the latter that it blocked my former. But here we are. Unblocking the block with unfiltered words.
I have been thinking about AI and writing for a while now.
Particularly, my own. (Writing. But also thinking.)
And in all this [attempt at] thinking, I have concluded that writing to me, in a sense, is an art. It is a space where I consolidate, and also, conciliate the artist I was as a child with the artist I have become as a slightly-battered yet functional adult. (It is as healing as it is liberating).
And in calling this my art, I want to fully immerse myself in the craft.
Because what is art if not a stamp of the soul?
What is art if not the craft of the artist?
I cannot output soulless text and try to call that an attempt at expression. Mostly because expression, I believe, comes from toiling with the words.
One by one.
In the choosing and the editing.
The writing and the rewriting.
A few week ago, I read an Op-Ed by Anastasia Berg on the New York Times that kept replaying in the back of my mind. Beautiful words that reflected on AI, and its impact on our ability to understand and create writing. She wrote:
“We grasp the very contours of our world in and through language.
But we are not born with a language. We have to acquire and develop our linguistic capacities through immersive practice with other human beings. For hundreds of years, in advanced societies this has meant cultivating an intimate familiarity with human writing.
….No aspect of cognitive understanding is perfunctory.”
And it became mind boggling to realize we are no longer writing.
If writing is a form of thinking….are we thinking less when we offload this activity to LLMs?
I’d say I think so. All it takes is a quick stroll through social media (LinkedIn, yes, I am mainly talking about you) to convince me.
No one can argue that reading posts everywhere has become extra+particularly+painfully glib and shallow; finding oddly unwavering words everywhere that now make me think: bla. Few posts feel authentic. Those which do, are super enjoyable to read.
When the thinking has been offloaded to a machine, it is very obvious, mostly because it all sounds the same. It reminds my of The Giver’s colorless descriptions of the world; perfect and orderly, seemingly crisp, but in reality just soulless and bland.
And whenever I read soulless text that evidently did not come out from a person’s mind, but rather from a pattern made up of everyone’s writing on the Internet: a prediction based on all the texts out there, both the good and the bad, I can immediately tell. Because what happens when you take everything that is out there, both good and bad?
You get average.
And I decided I do not want to be average. As I was reading Anastasia’s essay, I was reminded of what beautiful writing can look like. (Do not get me wrong. I know my writing is far from beautiful, but it is an honest view of what I am thinking.) I want to express, but also feel, with my writing.
Which is why I will not use LLMs for lattes & wine (not that I did it before, but I did rely on it for the editing part of the job) and instead I will dare to publish words that might come out to be below average. Or worse. But they will be mine. And that, all on its own, will make it slightly better.
Here’s hoping.