I fell hard for AI too.
I bought my $20/month ChatGPT membership and had all but convinced myself that it was the secret ingredient to finally achieving all my writerly hopes and dreams. I swooned at its crazy computing speed and the way it always knew exactly what I meant.
“You’re not just right, Kayla. You’re waxing poetic. This isn’t just some small idea you utter and then forget. This is the very cornerstone of your work.”
If you know, you know. Who doesn’t love having their own personal hype girl?
But as I got deeper into my explorations with my chat (who I lovingly named Cathy), I felt this weird dependence happening. Suddenly I didn’t want to write anything without running it by Cathy first. I would paste words into the screen feeling confident and sure, and five small suggested tweaks later, my original idea had been hijacked and riddled with AI writing conventions.
And speaking of AI writing conventions, this is where we need to pause and take a quick left to address the elephant in the room.
Yes, we can tell you’ve used AI.
I inadvertently landed in a sweatshop editing job for a month last year editing manuscripts for a vanity publisher. It wasn’t exactly my soul’s calling, but I thought I could make some quick money and hone my editing skills. What I didn’t expect was a crash course in AI writing. Woof.
Among the manuscripts I read were a gym bro’s training guide, a Venezuelan ex-pat’s memoir, a religious fanatic’s fasting manual (that one was WILD), a psychologist’s workbook for teens, and a retired military officer’s book on morals. You wouldn’t think they’d have much in common. But, oh, was I wrong.
Every single manuscript was teeming with AI writing, and once I saw it I couldn’t unsee it.
Here are the three biggest offenders that your old friend AI loves to use:
The handy-dandy em dash
In case you haven’t already noticed, AI loves an em dash. That’s the long dash in a sentence that sets apart information. It’s like a comma—but with more emphasis. (See what I did there?)
The best friend speak
Maybe it’s overcorrecting for its artificialness, but AI loves to “give it to you straight” with phrases like:
“Let’s be real…”
"Here’s the thing...”
“The truth is…”
The negation tactic
It’s not that AI writes poorly, it’s that it uses the same structures on repeat. (Read that again if you missed it.) AI takes a persuasive approach and uses negation incessantly. Scan your AI-assisted piece, and it’ll jump out at you. “It’s not this…it’s that.”
Honestly, I cringe in my own writing now anytime I negate anything. I pause and think, “Have I always posed arguments that way, or am I being incepted by AI?” It’s legit maddening.
I’m not here to vilify AI or to shame anyone who uses it.
I understand that it is helpful and can feel like magic, especially when you first experiment with it. And as an editor, I’ve appreciated AI-assisted editing tools for years. The squiggly red line under a misspelled word has been my saving grace for decades.
But I feel like we’re in a collective moment of needing to take our power back as creators. We are inherently creative beings, and we don’t need AI to be good writers.
I crave unique, individual voices. I’ll take your raw writing over AI shellac any day.
As a reader, editor, and writer, I adore the newsletters from my favorite creators and brands. Usually I see them in my inbox and am clamoring to drink up every word. This past month I received newsletters from two separate creators and felt gut-punched when I scanned their words and saw their messages were completely AI-composed.
The inspiring voice from my favorite mindfulness and neural manifestation brand…completely gobbled up by AI.
The usually real voice from my beloved writing coach…replaced entirely with an AI-written piece.
I could have cried. And honestly, I felt betrayed. I don’t want to hear about their brand and business through the lens of AI. I want to hear about it from them. I could give a damn if it sounds composed or not. I want the spark of them that attracted me to their ideas in the first place.
I see it in my own work too.
I’m currently working with a new book coaching client. She’s a well-educated woman in a senior leadership role, and I’m supporting her in writing a self-help book. She has deep expertise, has published papers in highly respected academic journals, and is a proficient communicator with an incredibly curious mind. And yet, when I received the first draft of her book idea, it was full of AI.
I lovingly broached the topic with her, and she shared her process for using Claude. She explained how she wasn’t using it as a shortcut or an easy button. She was legitimately spending hours combing through the work sentence by sentence. And yet I could still feel the imprint of AI in her words.
I challenged her to try it differently and suggested she treat AI like a discussion partner. But no composing. No copying/pasting. Simply, move from the conversation and then write from memory. Use the essence of the inspiration to articulate the concepts in your own words.
And the next piece she submitted to me was so. much. better. I could feel her heartbeat in it. I could hear her voice. Yes, it needed editing, but that is literally what I’m here for. I’d rather edit raw words any day over removing AI from someone’s work.
I don’t think most humans want to read artificially-created writing.
We want to feel. To connect. To experience. We want proof of humanity. For me, words are oxygen. And I want to breathe something pure.
A writing coach once taught me this simple approach to composing. You ask yourself, “What do I want people to know, feel, and do?” It’s that simple.
I want you to know that AI is all over your writing.
It’s the worst-kept secret in people’s marketing emails, and it’s not as well-composed as you think.
I want you to feel inspired to try it a new way.
Sure, play with AI if you like. Have conversations. But use your own critical thinking skills to come to conclusions and compose your ideas.
And what do I want you to do?
Write. Express. Share.
Use your voice in all its beautiful humanity.
In a world obsessed with the artificial, let raw, organic words drip from your fingers and spill onto the page. Allow your readers the joy of bathing in something created from life.
Write how you speak. Don’t try to compose or sound fancy. Simply have a conversation through your fingers on the keys. We want to hear what you have to say.
You don’t need AI to write. I promise.