Increasingly, I see posts of consternation about AI writing–how it is undermining creativity, how it will damage the publishing industry, and so forth. As an author, I have a vested interest in these concerns. And I suspect most of them are justified to a degree. AI, if given permission to “create” (which really just means aggregate thoroughly), is ultimately dehumanizing.
But here’s the thing: freaking out about it, raging online, frothing at the metaphorical mouth, and losing sleep doesn’t resolve anything. It doesn’t stop AI companies, it doesn’t help authors or publishers, and it certainly doesn’t do any good for us. Our angst will only grow in proportion to the growth of AI, to our detriment and its obliviousness.
Here are three simple encouragements for readers in this age of AI.
1. Buy books from authors you respect.
This is a human interaction, not just commerce. You are supporting real people doing real work. You are signaling to publishers what kinds of work are valuable. If real authors are holding up a light in the increasing darkness of an AI-driven world by crafting sentences, telling stories, and proclaiming truth you are holding up a mirror to multiply that light.
2. Read those books.
Every time you are mad or anxious about AI, open a book and begin reading. This isn’t a performative act. It’s not even an act of resistance. It’s an act of human flourishing. Your mind and heart need to read words from a fellow person. You need to escape the digital dimension for a while and step into the analog universe of typeset pages wherein you find truth and beauty. That author gave something of herself in those pages–maybe blood, likely a tear or two, and definitely sweat. The effort isn’t what makes that book matter, though. The uniqueness of one person’s God-reflecting creative use of language to tell stories and truths is what makes it matter. AI, by ontology, cannot give you that.
3. Share those books.
Yes, hand them to friends. But even more, spread the word. Rave about them. Be a little bit obnoxious about them. Share specifics–characters that resonated with you, sentences that moved you, ideas you’d never considered, truths that changed you. Don’t share books to broadcast your position, your intellect, or as an act of resistance. Share them because you love them and because you love those with whom you share. After all, love is a much stronger and more lasting motivation than anger or activism.
AI is going to do what it does. It is going to expand to its limit. It is going to have its day. But it will never take away the value of the authored (not aggregated) word. It will never undo the innate creative desire or essential linguicism of humanity. We are people of words, given and received, spoken and written. AI cannot take that away. All it can do is borrow and imitate. Today, we cannot stop it. So instead we will go where it cannot–into the uniquely human dimension of authored truth and beauty where we have a haven of rest, an infirmary for healing, a kitchen for nourishment, and an arsenal of resistance.