Is the Human Writer Becoming Obsolete? AI and the Future of Creativity

Writing can feel like a rollercoaster of uncertainty, not just wondering if anyone will read it, but grappling with countless choices along the way. Imagine sitting down to write an essay. You’re faced with a mind-boggling array of options for the opening line alone. How do you choose the perfect one? And there’s always that nagging feeling that the absolute best line is just beyond your grasp. It’s like trying to navigate a maze blindfolded, never quite sure which path will lead you to your destination. And then there’s the challenge of deciding which ideas to develop further, not knowing who your audience will be. These are the daily struggles that writers face.

Sure, some might argue that I’m just complaining about the essence of writing itself. But for as long as people can remember, this has been the writer’s reality – a unique privilege earned through hours of solitary work. After all, who else would bear the responsibility of creating something from nothing but their own thoughts and words?

The Machine Muse Emerges: AI and the Blending of Authorship

Picture this: ChatGPT, Bard, and other language engines – their names whimsical and mythical – working tirelessly behind the scenes. They effortlessly churn out everything from user manuals to fiction, essays, poems, scripts, and even propaganda. It’s almost eerie how seamlessly they mimic human writing. Naomi S. Baron, in her book “Who Wrote This?”, warns us of the growing challenge in distinguishing between human and machine-generated text. It’s like AI has a special talent for channeling the spirit of William Blake, while Gertrude Stein’s style remains uniquely human. This revelation unsettles Baron, a linguist deeply invested in the future of reading. Even the comfort of studies showing humans can still spot AI-generated text offers little reassurance. With each advancement, these AI systems become more sophisticated. It’s only a matter of time before they master language to such an extent that their writing becomes indistinguishable from ours.

The AI Writing Dilemma: Threat or Opportunity?

The rise of AI writers has us all questioning. If a computer can write just like us, what sets our creativity apart? What makes us unique? And the big question: If AI completely takes over writing, what will we, as writers and readers, miss out on? It’s a big deal. Writing is essential to our civilization—it marks the shift from ancient times to recorded history. If AI starts replacing human writing, it could change things as much as when writing was first invented.

Unlocking the Mystery of AI Writing: Exploring the Language Machine

Picture a gigantic library, not filled with books, but with words upon words. Inside this digital haven, our trusty AI writer, the Large Language Model (LLM), isn’t wandering the streets like a curious traveler. Instead, it’s been trained on an immense amount of written material – a staggering 300 billion words just for ChatGPT 3.5! It gobbles up this vast sea of information, not to comprehend it like we do, but to spot patterns within it.

Think of it as a fascinating game: the LLM constantly predicts the next word in a sentence, getting better and better with each guess as it analyzes the text around it. After digesting an unbelievable amount of data, the LLM starts to form its own understanding – sort of like building its own internal dictionary. It learns that a BMW is a type of car, that “traffic light” means the same thing as “traffic signal,” and that saying “The BMW danced at the traffic light” just doesn’t quite fit.

This is where the magic (or maybe the math, depending on how you see it) comes into play. The LLM uses these learned patterns to craft its own text, piecing words together based on how frequently they appear alongside each other in its vast collection of words. Essentially, it’s all about recognizing and using patterns – a mathematical waltz that gives birth to what seems like imaginative text, even poetry.

Exploring the Human Element in Creativity: Moving Beyond 300 Billion Words

While the mechanics of how humans acquire language remain shrouded in mystery (unlike AI, which relies on a vast repository of 300 billion words), Dennis Yi Tenen, an English professor, offers a compelling perspective in his book “Literary Theory for Robots.” He suggests that both humans and machines share a common approach to using language for creative endeavors.

Tenen suggests that the process of “thinking and writing” unfolds gradually over time, shaped by interactions with a diverse array of influences. These influences might include the extensive library of literature we’ve absorbed, the conversations that ignite new ideas, or even the reference materials we consult for guidance. Interestingly, true originality often emerges from a foundation built on imitation and the gradual refinement of ideas inspired by the works of others.

Whether consciously or not, writers draw inspiration from their surroundings, the books they immerse themselves in, and the individuals they engage with. We function as intricate networks, “thinking with our bodies, with tools, with texts,” in Tenen’s words. While the creative process may not be as visibly systematic as that of AI, the knowledge we absorb inevitably becomes an integral part of our creative reservoir.

Tenen challenges the romanticized notion of the solitary writer conjuring words and concepts in isolation. He argues against the idea that intelligence is solely a product of “private exceptional achievement.” Instead, he emphasizes that the human creative process is a multifaceted tapestry woven from experiences, interactions, and the collective wisdom passed down through generations.

The Democratization (or Dilemma?) of Authorship: Exploring the Essence of Originality

The notion of “distributed intelligence” presents a paradoxical dilemma. On one side, it champions inclusivity, suggesting that creativity isn’t the sole domain of solitary geniuses. Yet, on the flip side, it raises unsettling questions about the traditional role of the author.

Nevertheless, Tenen encourages us to focus less on the origin of ideas and more on their impact. Whether our creative process resembles the synthesized approach of AI or the Romantic notion of divine inspiration, what ultimately matters is the influence it has on the world. Tenen draws on the philosophies of Aristotle and Plato to illustrate contrasting views on intelligence: Aristotle viewed it as the pinnacle of thought, while Plato considered it an internal, private realm leading to moments of enlightenment.

So, which perspective holds true? Perhaps, like the enigmatic essence of creativity itself, the answer lies somewhere in the middle.

The Human Touch: Embracing Literary Remixing

Even the most revered authors have embraced the art of remixing literature. Tenen’s book delves into the fascinating history of authorial “hacks,” starting with Georges Polti, a 19th-century French thinker who boldly categorized all possible human conflicts into 36 distinct situations in his work “The Thirty-Six Dramatic Situations.” His message was clear: prioritize truth and beauty over mere novelty. Interestingly, Polti even provided subcategories, such as “pursuit for a fault of love” or confrontations with deceptive characters. Despite concerns about stifling creativity, Polti aimed to liberate playwrights from the pressure of pursuing absolute originality.

Mark Twain also adopted a similar approach, curating a self-adhesive scrapbook for fellow writers. This collection of notes, clippings, and images served as a well of inspiration. One particular clipping—a sensational story about an imposter claiming British nobility—initially deemed unsuitable for fiction by Twain, later became the foundation for Zadie Smith’s novel “The Fraud.” Even companies capitalized on this concept, offering tools like the Chautauqua Literary File and the Phillips Automatic Plot File Collector—organizational aids for writers to store their creative sparks.

As Tenen argues, this “magpie approach”—viewing writers as collage artists—is far from new. So why the apprehension about AI adopting similar principles?

Here’s where I, the reader, express a silent plea for humanity. The essence of a novel lies not in the mere arrangement of details and plots, but in how the writer interprets them through their unique perspective—their life experiences, inner dialogues, and the symphony of thoughts that define them. This transformative process imbues fragments with depth and significance for the reader.

While the AIs of tomorrow may pioneer new realms of creativity, they can never replicate the richness of human experience. They cannot comprehend the anguish of loss or the awe of a panoramic view from a mountaintop. The monotony of a repetitive job, the spark of artistic inspiration—these are uniquely human encounters. Without them, any text produced by AI will lack the ineffable quality, the gravitas that captivates us as readers. At least, that’s the debate I engage in with myself.

Early on in Naomi S. Baron’s book “Who Wrote This?” I found myself becoming defensive. I argued for the special status of writing and language, clinging to the belief that they are immutable components of human identity. Baron, however, approaches the subject with a clear, pragmatic perspective. She deconstructs the romanticized image of the writer by outlining a hierarchy of creativity. This spectrum ranges from the modest “mini c” of personal satisfaction, like perfecting a Thanksgiving peach cobbler recipe, to the “Big C” league of visionary minds like Shakespeare and Steve Jobs.

AI and the Evolution of Creativity

In “Who Wrote This?” Naomi S. Baron challenges the romanticized view of writing and prompts us to examine AI’s influence on creativity. Baron introduces a spectrum of creativity, ranging from personal pursuits to the profound achievements of “Big C” artists. While she primarily focuses on the “Big C” domain, she acknowledges that the majority of human writing exists outside this realm.

Within this spectrum lies a vast expanse of everyday and professional writing—emails, reports, social media posts, business documents—texts that would hardly evoke existential concern if produced by AI. Baron suggests that AI’s capacity to manage such writing tasks could liberate us to concentrate on truly creative endeavors that delve into the complexities of human existence.

AI: The Scribe, Not the Sage? Exploring the Future of Writing

Both Dennis Yi Tenen and Naomi S. Baron, while cautiously hopeful about AI, concur on its potential to alleviate us from the monotony of numerous mundane writing tasks. However, they diverge on AI’s capability to scale the pinnacle of human expression – “Big C” writing.

Tenen contends that AI’s current constraints confine it to a domain of “muscular artifice.” He underscores that genuine intelligence and compelling writing necessitate a comprehensive grasp of the world, something that words alone cannot furnish. For example, an AI lacks the ability to watch a film for critique or interview politicians for a political exposé (at least for now!). Devoid of firsthand experiences, AI’s creative output in these spheres will perpetually rely on existing materials, devoid of the essence of genuine originality. According to Tenen, this inherent limitation will forever prevent AI from reaching the zenith of creative writing.

The Reader’s Influence: Redefining Meaning in the Era of AI?

Despite these discussions, a lingering uncertainty persisted. Perhaps, as reader-response theory posits, meaning isn’t inherent within the text itself. A book remains merely a collection of words until a reader imbues it with life, their interpretation serving as an act of creation in itself. This notion isn’t novel – Roland Barthes explored similar concepts in his essay “The Death of the Author” back in the 1960s.

Yet, we can trace these ideas back even further. Over a millennium ago, Indian philosopher Bhatta Nayaka, in his work “Mirror of the Heart,” proposed that “rasa” – the essence of aesthetic experience – doesn’t reside within the characters of a play, but within the audience itself. As scholar Sheldon Pollock elucidates, “rasa” becomes entirely contingent on the response of the reader.

Consider Bhatta Nayaka navigating our AI-driven world of writing. He might pose a thought-provoking inquiry: If, in a blind test, readers are genuinely moved by a poem or story authored by AI, will we still value their experience? Will their emotional reaction carry more weight than the origin of the text? This scenario looms on the horizon, and the AI’s sentience won’t necessarily be a prerequisite.

Alan Turing, in his groundbreaking 1950 paper, didn’t merely inquire, “Can machines think?” He introduced the “imitation game” – could a machine deceive a human into believing it was capable of thought? In essence, the outcome remains the same. The divide between being genuinely moved and being deceived may be narrower than we’d care to acknowledge.

AI and the Evolution of the Writer’s Craft: Navigating the Future of Human Creativity

The shadow of automation casts a formidable presence. The 20th century stands as a testament, with numerous examples – from factory laborers to assembly line workers, even switchboard operators – all replaced by machines. Yet, some argue that writers occupy a unique position. “Surely, language and creativity can’t be mechanized,” is the prevailing sentiment.

However, Tenen challenges this comforting notion. “While the mind and language may hold a special place for us,” he acknowledges, “they are not immune to the forces of change.” He contends that intellectual endeavors, fundamentally, demand exertion – a form of labor. And within the commercial sphere, writing is already witnessing its own revolution in automation.

ChatGPT now produces real estate listings, while the Associated Press relies on AI to generate earnings reports. In the legal domain, tools like LexisNexis’ Context consume legal judgments and output “most persuasive arguments” for lawyers, tailored to individual judges’ preferences. As AI begins to draft legal decisions, a chilling prospect unfolds: machines deliberating amongst themselves, determining the fate of humans.

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The Human Toll of Automation: When AI Assumes the Writer’s Mantle

It’s tempting to brush aside certain writing roles as mundane, a luxury reserved for those who haven’t experienced the security of a steady income. After all, 13% of American jobs involve writing, contributing over $675 billion annually. Yet, the specter of automation casts a long shadow, placing many of these positions in jeopardy.

Proponents of automation offer a reassuring narrative: “Liberated from mundane tasks,” they proclaim, “writers can explore more creative pursuits.” However, the harsh reality of the modern economy presents a different picture. There’s scant evidence to suggest it adequately supports even established creative writers, let alone those on the verge of being supplanted by AI.

But what about novelists and poets? Baron suggests that AI could serve as a source of inspiration, igniting creativity. Yet, unlike a car with a predetermined destination, creative writing is about the journey itself—the exploration of ideas and emotions.

Baron recounts the cautionary tale of Jennifer Lepp, a prolific writer of paranormal cozy mysteries. Lepp enlisted the AI assistant Sudowrite to streamline her workflow, initially focusing on basic descriptions. However, as Sudowrite’s involvement expanded, Lepp found herself increasingly detached. “She no longer felt immersed in her characters and plots,” Baron notes. Lepp herself confessed to The Verge, “It didn’t feel like mine anymore.”

Herein lies the true danger of AI—the potential to deprive us not only of the pleasure of reading but also of the profound act of writing itself. Writing isn’t reserved for a select few; it’s an intrinsic human experience, from composing messages to jotting down notes. Even rudimentary writing—learning to spell, penning by hand—shapes our cognitive faculties. Research indicates it enhances reading comprehension and memory. Moreover, writing serves as a form of introspection, a means to unravel our thoughts. As Joan Didion famously remarked, “I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see, and what it means.” Writing enables us to connect, to divulge our inner struggles and foster empathy. The very challenge of writing, the struggle to articulate thoughts accurately, leads to profound revelations, both for the writer and the reader. To relinquish this to AI would be to strip us of our voice, rendering us incapable of introspection or self-expression. I’ll take the frustration and complexity of writing any day.