Impatience
What AI writing tools reveal about our culture which rewards having created art...without actually creating it. (Hint: It's all about validation)
Reclining Nair Lady by Raja Ravi Varma (Credit: Raja Ravi Varma Heritage Foundation, Bangalore)
Like any other creative in the world — writer, artist, musician, singer — I have spent the last few weeks being bombarded by many AI “tools” that can write, paint, sing, and create music. All of these tools, I am breathlessly told, can make my life easier. They can make me an expert artist in five minutes, a writer of novels in one day, and even make me a tone-deaf Mozart.
“But…why?” seems to be, however, a question that doesn’t figure in the discussion. And yet, it’s a question I found myself asking when I came across an AI tool for writing long-form fiction.
Why would I want AI to write my novel for me?
Good writing is about an originality of thought and expression that will jolt something in the person reading. Make you feel an emotion that only you thought you were capable of feeling. It’s like James Baldwin said — you read to know that your “pain and heartbreak” are not “unprecedented in the history of the world.” Conversely, you write to understand life a bit better. So, why exactly, would you outsource that process of making sense of the world…to a machine?
Now maybe you’re reading this and thinking, “Maanvi, not everyone can write. That’s why.” To which I would like to say as politely as I can, “That’s utter bullshit.”
Everyone can write. That not everyone is a good writer is a different thing altogether — and one which has to do with factors as old-fashioned as discipline, know-how, and that elusive thing called talent. (Though I bet that there are far more writers in the world that are more disciplined than talented. Again, James Baldwin agrees with me.)
But chalo, let’s suppose I am wrong. You’ve never written, have deluded yourself that you can’t write, and thus want to use this AI tool to write a novella. But the fun thing about writing, as anyone who has ever written anything will tell you is in the writing of it. That frustration you feel when you see a blank page? The dread that you’ve not only forgotten how to write, but the very existence of words and grammar? That flush of exhilaration when you crack a sentence that sings? Yep, that’s pretty much why anyone puts words to paper. Why would you want to get a machine to do it for you?
Maybe you do write but just want to get better at it. In which case, I can fairly assure you, that an AI tool is the last thing that would make your writing better. You know what would be a good way? Reading. Stephen King puts it succinctly when he says, “If you don't have time to read, you don't have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that.”
Clearly though, there is a third type of person which most AI tools cater to. Those who want to have created something…without creating it. And, seeing the culture we’re in, I don’t entirely blame them.
The thing about putting in writing prompts and generating a page of fiction in seconds, is that it gives you the reward of having done the act, without you actually putting the effort of doing it. You want to be a writer, you want to have written a novel, you want to put it in your Twitter or Instagram bio — but by skipping over the (crucial) part where you work at it anonymously.
It’s this same desire to be perceived as an artist without doing the work which makes one an artist that informs so much of what we do and why the promise of AI seems so attractive. With AI, creating art becomes easy. Whether it should be easy or not, seems irrelevant.
A caveat though — easy shouldn’t be confused with accessible. The argument for AI that writes fiction is that it makes storytelling “accessible” apparently.
But storytelling — even writing — is probably the most accessible way to create art and has been for centuries. You’ve never needed anything more than a pen and a paper to write. And even when that hasn’t been available, people have found ways to tell stories and the oral traditions that led to the Odyssey and the Mahabharata are proof of that.
Publishing, and the often elite frameworks under which it operates is a different argument. But to write, for yourself, and even for a few others, has never been more accessible. (Um, you are reading this on a Substack, for crying out loud.)
What AI does is erases the effort to produce a piece of writing — to the point that it makes the act of writing itself futile.
Impatience is an emotion I understand too well. I often have days when I want everything, and I want it now. The act of writing is often the antidote I use against impatience. Sitting down and seeing words slowly build up to a sentence, a paragraph, an essay, which is an often imperfect translation of what I want to say, is the best reminder for me to slow down. Sure, do I have moments where I wish I was a Booker-winning author by thirty-two? Of course. But would I still want it if it meant having skipped hours and hours of writing the story I want to tell? Definitely not.
Which is why the only concluding argument, and final weapon I can wield against an AI which writes novels is that of — joy. I can’t write a novel chapter in minutes. I can however, feel a sense of happiness at having teased out an argument in my head, chuckle at a pun I made a character in my story say, and feel invincible at having landed the perfect last sentence.
We write to feel. And that’s one thing we can do better than the machines, no?
Links of The Week (And More Updates)
Tim Jonze was told he had months to live in 2018 when he was diagnosed with blood cancer. The diagnosis led him to surprising revelations about what one does when they are in their 30, life is suddenly coming to an end, and word games are the only things that make sense.
This essay by JR Moehringer — also the guy who ghostwrote Prince Harry’s memoir — is a must-read. My favourite lines, “…...if you don’t tell your story you lose it—or, what might be worse, you get lost inside it. Telling is how we cement details, preserve continuity, stay sane. We say ourselves into being every day, or else."
Elizabeth Holmes has some guts trying to script a comeback story — just need this confidence in life, I tell you.
Sarah Snook’s Shiv is for me the most compelling actor on a show filled with some great acting — and to see how normal, chill, and delightful she is off-screen is lovely.
This for those who want AI to write a poem — “love is for the ones who love the work.”
That’s it from me this week! It’s mango season, and I’ve been eating as many mangoes as I can. Here is a photo of one particularly delicious Devgad Alphonso I had recently. One day I will write an ode to the mango, rightful king of fruits — for now, I wish you many mangoes with friends, family, and foes.
I will write again soon.