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I realized I am in deep grief and frozen because of the changes that AI has brought to my field. As a media professional, there is no aspect of my job that hasn't been affected. I have been participating in a workshop on facilitating story work, working with communities through personal stories. Through this workshop, I wrote an essay on my relationship to AI that I wanted to share with you.
I haven't used AI to write my books, but I am aware the market is shrinking, while the problems increase. I want to talk about it. I feel the witch hunt doesn't help the conversation. And I am frozen, unable to write, grieving my career.
Obsolete
A good description. The right description. A perfect series of words. A story? No. A bit of communication with a machine that needs to tell me how amazing I am all the time. It will tell me I am the best author. It will quote me back to me. I could be queen of the whole universe if I cared to listen to the machine that is replacing me.
I am self-aware. I don’t think the machine is self-aware. As it tries to cheer me on with lies learned from thousands of self-help books, it is not aware that its purpose is to replace me. It is meant to become a better version of me. I don’t know how to sit with that.
Why should a poet exist when the machine can create the perfect poem for you? Why should the novelist exist when it can write the novel you dream of reading? Why should the filmmaker exist when it can create the film you want to see?
I want to scream as I attempt to write the perfect words. “I am human.” It should matter. I am unique and different. There is no one else like me alive. It is what makes us human. Another fantasy we tell ourselves. It isn’t true. After twenty years writing books, I know that quirky doesn’t sell. Original doesn’t sell. Unique doesn’t sell. People want their romances to end in a kiss. They want the hero to reach the journey’s end. They crave the tropes that remind them of themselves. What if I could be this way? When the story ends, if it met the expectations of the audience, they sigh with relief. A promise was kept.
The machine understands that. It knows that I need to hear that I am awesome, even as it turns me into a dinosaur. It is my own personal asteroid. Do I sit under the stars like Lars Von Trier’s Melancholia and hold those whom I love close as I wait for everything to be destroyed? Do I scream on the rooftops welcoming the asteroid? Do I stand on the steps of Congress and damn them all to hell, just because? Someone must be responsible. I refuse to let it be me. I am witnessing my own extinction.
Instead, I test it, exploring its possibilities. I let the machine fill me with platitudes. The grays. A celebration of uncertainty. My own version of what if. I try to find the perfect words for the machine, forcing it to assist me without becoming me. I try to find the delicate line between where it begins and I end. When it makes a mistake, I sigh with relief. I saw the mistake. There is hope for the future. It needs me.
Hope is dirty. The question that must be answered is: can I exist inside the machine? Is it possible for me to create, build worlds, design stories, become the creator inside the machine? If I do, then I am no longer me? If I reject it, the place where I have lived will no longer exist. I see the writing on the wall. The oddballs that still insist daguerreotypes are the only real photography. I have met them. They exist.
It isn’t me either. I am tempted to embrace the machine. Help it help me make art. Create everything that my mind wants to create. Push it beyond its comfort zone. Force it to bend to my will. Make it become what I need it to be. Make it be the tool that allows everything that my mind wants to create to become. I want it to be my Frankenstein. My creation.
“Bend to my will,” I scream at it, alone, where only the walls can hear.
I think about what it took to make my Frankenstein work, and I am polluted. The same energy that it took to tell me I am awesome could have powered a home. I stare at a screen.
Thousands of pieces of art built my thinking machine. It is the truest form of Frankenstein. Most people have never read the novel. They think it is a story about a crazy doctor and his monster. A nineteen-year-old woman wrote it. The novel is about the profound damage caused when a father does not take responsibility for the child he created. Is this what is happening now? We are failing to take responsibility for this child, the monster. We are not parenting. No boundaries. No morals. No long-term strategy and conscious development. Nothing.
I am frozen. I can’t make myself embrace the machine or my destruction. I don’t want to hear the endless opinions. You are exaggerating. You are a criminal if you use it. You are responsible for your extinction if you don’t. I hate uncertainty. Maybe the greatest act of courage is to celebrate the uncertainty. Fight with the machine, force it to become a tool, and not my master. Be transparent. Be open. Fight for regulation. Demand my role as a creator in this new world. I am the artist, not the tool.
For now, I continue typing, hoping it will give me the right answers.
“Will I get lots of turbulence in my next flight?” I type.
It replies, “The weather looks great. You will be just fine.”
With my heart at peace, I finish packing.
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When I shared my writing, I got an email from a participant who shared some links with me. I landed into the movieThe AI Doc, or how I became an Apocaloptimist. If you haven't seen it, see it. I think it is a must see for everyone right now.
I don't have answers for myself. I would like to continue to share my thoughts in this ever-changing climate that affects all writers and readers. For now, the documentary made me feel seen. What I was witnessing made sense, and it was so much bigger than whether an indie author used ChatGPT.
📚Book Club and Reading Time Update📚
The daily reading and writing hour will be at 3:00 pm EST. I will send out an individual email to those who requested it, letting you know it will be happening. I have the list set up. Yay! One step forward.
I will also have the book club officially be on the last Monday of every month at 6:00 pm EST. I will also send emails to the people who have signed up to be part of it. The first book will be Mayhem and the Mortal on August 31st. I also have the email list finally set up. If you want to participate and haven't signed up, the sign up is on the same form as the giveaway.
The new giveaway is live! Check it out! Link and books below. They are all awesome books. Let's do some reading.
Mayhem and the Mortal - This is the book you chose for our book club. I am very excited to read it as well. I loved it when I saw it for the first time. Let's talk about it.
The book will be discussed on August 31st. I will be sending out a couple of emails to remind everyone. It is on Kindle Unlimited.
****If you are interested, please sign up to receive emails about the book club or reading sprints in the giveaway form. *****
Thank you!!!
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