Chapter 1: The Limitations of AI in Creative Writing

Computers are capable of performing numerous tasks, yet they lack the ability to genuinely feel.

A few years back, a friend of mine, who is also a writer, joined my online writing school, Ninja Writers. He was eager to take part in one of our feedback workshops. In these workshops, participants share their work, read it aloud, and receive insights from fellow writers in a Zoom setting.

After attending a couple of sessions, I found it necessary to have a private conversation with him. My inquiry was straightforward: "What is going on with your writing?" His pieces felt peculiar and empty. I couldn't pinpoint the issue, but it seemed to lack substance. Despite receiving similar feedback each week, he continued to present work that felt just as lacking.

It's essential to recognize that everyone is at different stages in their writing journey, and I had no intention of judging him. Ninja Writers was created to assist emerging writers. However, I sensed that something was amiss, even if I couldn't identify what.

Since we were friends, I could ask him the difficult question without hesitation. He revealed that an AI had generated his writing, and he wanted to see if it would pass as authentic to a group of readers.

At the time, AI-generated fiction was a concept I had not previously encountered. He mentioned using a program that took his ideas and produced stories in return. He insisted that I should learn to do the same because, he claimed, soon enough, I would be out of a job. Yet, in that moment, I was certain he was mistaken. AI cannot take the place of human fiction writers.

Does that sound like the beginning of a cautionary tale? Absolutely. It feels as if I'm invoking a futuristic nightmare where machines dominate humanity. I can envision a world where computers take control, but I firmly believe that they will not replace human writers.

While it’s possible that some stories may be composed this way—where computers generate narratives—we currently inhabit a reality where that is feasible. In fact, it may already be occurring.

AI has been aiding writers with grammar checks and spelling corrections for quite some time. Many authors utilize AI tools daily. There are even self-published authors who manage to produce up to twenty novels in a single year. To put that into perspective, it’s akin to completing a NANOWRIMO project every couple of weeks, but instead of the usual 50,000 words, these works are closer to 80,000 words.

That's nearly 5,000 words daily, without fail, throughout the entire year. Could an AI emulate that model? It might be possible, but it would never do so effectively enough to genuinely replace human writers.

Readers gravitate towards authors whose works evoke emotions. AI lacks that capacity.

This realization struck me when my friend discussed AI-generated writing; I had just spent weeks pondering the oddity of his work. Writing is an arduous task—extremely challenging.

The process is so demanding that our minds often attempt to divert us from it. Fresh ideas often emerge while we're stuck on the second act of a narrative, and mundane chores we’ve neglected suddenly seem urgent. Imposter syndrome can make us question our efforts.

If I were to ask ChatGPT to craft a story, it would do so. However, no amount of training or instruction could enable it to write a narrative that reflects my unique human experiences. It could master the structure and format, but it would lack genuine emotion.

This understanding crystallized during my conversation with my friend. A machine will never be able to create works like To Kill a Mockingbird, The Hunger Games, For Whom the Bell Tolls, or The Shining. This applies not only to award-winning literature but also to the light-hearted romances I enjoy. AI-generated stories simply cannot compete with the human experience.

Perhaps AI-generated fiction exists within the realm of the uncanny valley—a phenomenon where something appears almost human, yet not quite, creating discomfort.

While AI may simplify the drafting process, it strips away any intrigue that could captivate readers. The end result might resemble human work, but it fails to embody humanity. My friend's writing lacked the personal experiences that connect with readers on a deeper level.

AI might analyze data and devise plots, and it could grasp character development. However, it cannot comprehend human emotions—how individuals react when they are hurt, in love, or facing catastrophe. It can mimic feelings, but it will always be a mere imitation.

Will AI eventually displace journalists, freelancers, and bloggers? It's a possibility, especially if it becomes more cost-effective. Nevertheless, a more significant question is whether readers will truly find fulfillment in works devoid of human touch.

Can you distinguish between an essay that reveals the writer's vulnerabilities and a hastily assembled SEO-driven blog post?

While I cannot predict the future, I'm confident that fiction writers can breathe easy—at least for now. Though suggesting that AI won't entirely replace human authors might seem like a risky assertion, I am convinced that we are not on the brink of obsolescence.

A computer cannot reproduce human emotion, and storytelling fundamentally revolves around conveying those feelings. Every time you hear "show, don't tell," what you're really hearing is "make me feel something."

And as long as that remains true, AI will never replace human storytellers.

Let me demonstrate.

I asked ChatGPT to write a paragraph that would evoke tears. Here’s what it generated:

In the waning light of a golden autumn evening, an elderly woman sits alone on a weathered bench, gazing out at a serene lake. The trees are ablaze with reds and oranges, echoing the vibrant memories she cherishes. A gentle breeze stirs her silver hair, and her trembling hand clutches a faded photograph, tracing its surface with care. It captures a moment frozen in time—a radiant smile shared between her and a figure now absent. As the sun descends, casting a warm yet melancholic glow, tears fill her eyes, merging the ache of loss with the weight of time's passage—a bittersweet symphony of a life well-lived, yet marked by sorrow.

While impressive, the paragraph lacks the emotional depth needed to truly resonate. It mirrors my friend's AI-generated writing: structured, but ultimately hollow and unimpactful.

I live in an area where authentic Mexican cuisine is hard to come by. The tacos here resemble a distant memory of what real Mexican food should be, much like the AI's attempt to create heartfelt writing. While the components may look correct, the essence is distinctly absent.

The AI-generated paragraph evokes a semblance of emotion but fails to forge a genuine connection. When I asked it to "plot a story about four teenage sisters during the US Civil War," I received a mashup of Little Women and Gone With the Wind—a combination that felt derivative at best.

The narrative begins on a peaceful Southern plantation, where four sisters grow up as whispers of war surround them. Clara, the eldest, is protective and strong-willed. Emily possesses a sharp mind and insatiable curiosity. Sarah is empathetic and kind, while Amelia exudes youthful energy. Their idyllic life shatters when their father is summoned to fight for the Confederacy, leaving the women to manage the plantation.

Essentially, it is Little Women set against the backdrop of Tara.

Now, consider this paragraph that genuinely moved me:

She leaned down and gazed at Rudy Steiner's lifeless face, kissing him softly on the lips. He tasted dusty and sweet, embodying regret beneath the shadows of trees. She kissed him deeply, and as she pulled away, she brushed her fingers against his mouth, unable to say goodbye. After lingering by his side, she finally mustered the strength to rise from the ground. — Mark Zusak, The Book Thief

Can you see the distinction?

The first paragraph may be technically sound, but it lacks emotional resonance. In contrast, Liesel's farewell kiss remains etched in my memory.

Patrick Ness's A Monster Calls made me cry so intensely that my daughter was alarmed when she found me in tears. I couldn't even consider watching the film adaptation—it felt too painful.

Just searching for a quote from that book brought tears to my eyes once again. I had to skip over it while editing this post to avoid breaking down.

"And if one day," she said, tears streaming, "you look back and feel regret for your anger, if the weight of your silence bears heavily on your heart, then know this, Conor: it was okay. I knew, I understand, okay?"

I lost my mother at a young age. Reflecting on it from my current age, I realize I wasn’t old enough to cope with her absence. I needed her guidance through the challenges of adulthood.

Ness completed A Monster Calls after Siobhan Dowd, who conceived the story, passed away from cancer. That paragraph resonates deeply with my own experience.

This is what ChatGPT generated when I asked it to produce a similar passage:

"And as time goes on," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "if there comes a moment when you glance back, burdened by silence and frustration, remember this, Emily. It was alright. It was okay to hold those feelings, even if you couldn't articulate them. Please believe me, Emily, I understood everything you felt, without needing words."

While the second passage is technically correct, it lacks the depth to evoke tears.

There is no way that AI can recreate the experience of reading A Monster Calls. How could it? A machine without a mother cannot grasp the turmoil of hating her for being ill while simultaneously yearning to save her.

AI will never capture the essence of Jo's realization about Laurie and Amy, or Scout's bravery alongside Atticus. It cannot replicate the heartbreak Lucy experiences with Edmund's betrayal, or Katniss's feelings as she releases that fateful arrow.

Only those who have felt love, fear, surprise, or grief can craft narratives powerful enough to resonate deeply with others. As long as this remains true, fiction writers need not fear becoming obsolete.

Shaunta Grimes is a writer and educator. Currently residing in Northwestern PA with her husband and three remarkable children, along with her dog Louie Baloo and cat Ollie Wilbur, she can be found on Instagram @ninjawritershop. She is the author of Viral Nation, Rebel Nation, The Astonishing Maybe, and Center of Gravity. Shaunta is the original Ninja Writer.

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Chapter 2: The Role of Emotion in Storytelling

The first video, "Will AI Replace Writers?" delves into the ongoing debate about AI's role in creative writing and its limitations in capturing human emotion.

The second video, "If You Write With AI, You're Not a Writer" And Other Lies, challenges the notion that AI can truly replace the unique voice and experience of human writers.

By examining these themes, we gain insight into the enduring significance of human storytelling in a world increasingly influenced by technology.