by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell
Kathleen Turner in Romancing the Stone
This is a long one. Pack a lunch.
I hesitated to write yet another post about AI. The blogosphere is jam-packed with thoughts, opinions, screeds, exaltations, and jeremiads concerning this quantum leap in machine capacity.
For writers, there is no end of discussion on the use (or abuse) of AI in the writing of a book. For me, that consideration boils down to this: AI is an amazingly powerful tool—and time saver—for things like research, brainstorming, book descriptions, synopses, series bibles and so on. But where the rubber meets the road—or the words meet the page—is when the machine writes the actual prose that will appear in the final product issued under the author’s name. That is a line I refuse to cross. Why I don’t is the subject of this post.
Before I get to the main point, allow me a small excursus on writing for money. It’s okay to do that! The pulp writers of old wrote for money, especially during the Depression. They learned the formulae for romance, mystery, fantasy, and adventure. They churned out stories for which they were paid. That’s called free enterprise. The best of them added their unique voice to set them above the average pulpster. You had the sharp leanness of Dashiell Hammett, the thunder and lightning of Robert E. Howard, the cynical snap of Raymond Chandler.
But now AI can churn out formulaic novels with a few clicks of the Return key. Anyone with a modicum of computer sense (not really a “writer” if they don’t do the actual writing) can produce a product that can be sold online. Such a producer might turn out five, ten, fifteen books a month, in the hope that sheer volume will return some hearty ducats.
It’s possible to tell Chat or Grok or some other machine to come up with a complete outline for a fantasy, and then tell it to write scenes “in the style of” Brandon Sanderson or George R. R. Martin or Patrick Rothfuss and boom, a day or two later you’ve got a novel.
That’s legal. But is it ethical? I decided to ask Grok (**irony alert**). Here’s the result. (I’ve redacted author names as I did not secure permission to include them.)
Yes, there are writers using AI to produce novels quickly, sometimes in a matter of days, and some are attempting to mimic the styles of famous authors. This practice is becoming more common as AI writing tools improve, but its legitimacy—both in terms of ethics and quality—is a subject of debate.
Several documented cases highlight this trend. For instance _____, a science fiction writer, used AI tools like ChatGPT, Anthropic’s Claude, and Midjourney to create 97 mini-novels (up to 5,000 words each) in just nine months. Each book took him six to eight hours, a fraction of the time traditional writing might require. Similarly, _____ generated a novel … in three hours using 66 prompts, winning second prize in a 2023 sci-fi competition.
As for mimicking famous authors, AI tools like NovelAI and Sudowrite allow users to train models on specific styles or prompt them to emulate authors like Agatha Christie or Stephen King. [A 2023 novel] was composed with large language models, drawing on styles of detective fiction writers like Raymond Chandler. However, the results often require human editing, as AI struggles to maintain coherence over long narratives or fully capture the nuanced voice of a specific author.
Is This Legitimate?
The legitimacy depends on perspective:
- Creative and Practical Legitimacy: From a production standpoint, it’s legitimate in that it works—AI can generate readable content quickly. Some authors argue it enhances their creativity, acting as a tool to brainstorm and draft. _____, an indie author, uses Sudowrite to meet tight deadlines, producing a novel every nine weeks. Tools like Squibler and Jasper also market themselves to authors, offering features to generate outlines or full drafts in minutes. Readers often buy these works (selling for $1.99-$3.99), suggesting some market acceptance.
- Quality Concerns: Critics argue the output lacks depth. Significant human curation is needed to stitch AI outputs into a cohesive narrative. Off-the-shelf models like GPT or Claude often produce generic or inconsistent prose when tasked with mimicking complex styles, as noted by writers like _____, who found AI-generated text fell short of his voice.
- Ethical and Legal Issues: The ethics are murkier. Many authors, backed by the Authors Guild (over 10,000 signed a 2023 letter), argue that AI tools trained on copyrighted works without permission constitute theft. If a writer prompts AI to “write like Dan Brown,” it’s likely drawing on his style without consent, raising ethical questions. Legally, AI-generated works face copyright ambiguity—U.S. law traditionally requires human authorship, and the extent of human involvement (e.g., editing vs. pure generation) complicates ownership. There’s also the question of transparency: should authors disclose AI use?
- Cultural Reception: Some see it as a betrayal of the craft. Traditional authors value the slow, personal process of writing, as expressed in a 2023 Los Angeles Times piece, fearing AI erodes the human eccentricity that defines literature. Others view it as a practical evolution, akin to using a thesaurus, especially for indie authors under pressure to publish fast on platforms like Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing.
Conclusion
Yes, writers are using AI to churn out novels in days, sometimes in the style of famous authors, enabled by tools like ChatGPT, Sudowrite, and NovelAI. It’s technically feasible and has a niche audience, particularly in self-publishing. However, its legitimacy is contested: it’s a powerful tool for speed and ideation, but the quality often lags, and ethical-legal concerns linger. For now, it’s a hybrid process—AI accelerates drafting, but human skill is still key to polish and authenticity. Whether it’s “legitimate” depends on your stance: a pragmatic shortcut for some, a creative compromise for others.
Got all that? Want to put out a novel a day? You won’t get arrested. And maybe the actual output, with help, can produce competent fiction.
But I believe there’s something you will miss, something AI can never give you: truly and deeply experiencing the lives of the characters you lovingly bring to life on the page. A machine can’t hand you that feeling; it can only come from inside you, churning through the heart, flowing through your fingertips as you type the words. And when you finally type The End there’s a certain euphoria that is only bequeathed to the writer who has “opened a vein.” The lifeblood of a story can’t be given by transfusion. It has to come from within.
Ray Bradbury wrote in Zen in the Art of Writing:
If you are writing without zest, without gusto, without love, without fun, you’re only half a writer. It means you are so busy keeping one eye on the commercial market, or one year peeled for the avant-garde coterie, that you are not being yourself you don’t even know yourself. For the first thing writer should be is excited. He should be a thing of fevers and enthusiasms. Without such a vigor, he might as well be out picking peaches or digging ditches; God knows it’d be better for his health.
I’ve experienced zest with every novel I’ve finished. A few times the experience has been overpowering.
Case in point. I wrote a trilogy, the Ty Buchanan series. Over the course of these legal thrillers there’s a love story. When I typed the last line, the most perfect I’ve ever written (for me, at least) I burst into tears. I mean, just like that first scene in Romancing the Stone where Kathleen Turner, at her keyboard with headphones on, types the last word of her novel. Weeping and laughing she utters, “Oh, God, that’s good!” It happened to me because I both created and experienced every emotion of every character over a three-book span.
I will not trade away that feeling. Besides, I believe it has value for the reader, too. I believe most readers sense when a book’s been written from a vibrating human heart, or hasn’t. As Carl Sandburg once said, “No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.”
Secondarily, I’m also wary of too much “cognitive offloading.” Another reason I write the words is to keep my brain in shape. If AI does that for me, my synapses stop firing. It’s like watching pickleball on TV every day instead of playing it yourself. Doesn’t do the body much good, does it? As one source puts it: “The long-term reliance on AI for cognitive offloading could also erode essential cognitive skills such as memory retention, analytical thinking, and problem-solving. As individuals increasingly rely on AI tools, their internal cognitive abilities may atrophy, leading to diminished long-term memory and cognitive health.”
I’ll finish with this. In my favorite movie, Shane, there’s a magnificent moment in the beginning where Shane, the mysterious stranger passing through, has been shown hospitality by the Starrett family—Joe, his wife Marian, and their boy, Joey. After a hearty meal, Shane excuses himself and goes outside. He’s about to express his gratitude without words. For in the yard is a big old stump that Joe has long been chopping away at.
Shane picks up an ax and starts hacking. Joe joins him and the two work into early evening.
They make their final push on the stump. It barely moves.
Joe’s wife sensibly suggests they hitch up a team of horses to pull it out. Joe says, “Marian, I’ve been fighting this stump off and on for two years. Use the team now and this stump could say it beat us. Sometimes nothing will do but your own sweat and muscle.”
Joe and Shane lay into that stump and with a final, mighty push, uproot it.
I guess I feel like Joe Starrett. There’s some things that won’t do for me as a writer but my own “sweat and muscle.”
I’ve gone on too long and I’m still thinking this all through. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments!
Here’s that scene from Shane:
I don’t want a program doing my thinking for me. We were given a brain for a reason and I want to keep using it. Tied to that, there’s no satisfaction in creativity if I’m not the one solving the writing problem. Sure, writing can be frustrating when you hit that wall. Or when you brainstorm for a long time & wrestle with finishing a part of your story. But I also know the most satisfying things in my life are the things it took me time and effort to accomplish or achieve.
And in the larger picture, I’d venture to say writers write to solve problems. Justice being a frequent goal of stories in mysteries, thrillers, etc. Dehumanizing ourselves through technology, in my opinion, will only lead to more injustice as we lose the capacity to interact with one another. We’re seeing it already. I’d rather read a book fully written and produced by a flawed human than cobbled together from an impersonal program. 10-15 years ago, I wouldn’t even have imagined we’d be having this type of discussion. What a bizarre world!
“But I also know the most satisfying things in my life are the things it took me time and effort to accomplish or achieve.”
Well said! And a message to pass along to the kids.
I’ve been studying the human mind for over 10 years and have learned that it’s the most peculiar, complicated, cleverly-designed structure we know of. It can make up stories, write wonderfully and express the full range of human emotions. But the thing that mystifies me every time is how it plants an “Easter egg” in my early chapters whose purpose I can’t fathom until, somewhere near the end, in a moment of revelation, I realize what it’s there for. I want those moments.
Reread Galsworthy’s “Quality,” if you haven’t lately.
Chat and Grok are robot scabs.
Yes, it’s those “unlogical” bits that make us, and our stories, human. On some level that’s what readers respond to. If it’s missing, the story feels “lifeless.” Even if AI gets trained in randomizing its output that way, it will never be the way the writer would do it. It will still be lifeless.
“A mind is a terrible thing to waste.”
Aging already diminishes the brain. I’m not going to speed up that process by depending on AI.
Worse, I fear for kids who grow up w/o ever learning the ability to think, reason, and figure out problems. Their brains will only develop in two dimensions.
I worry about the kids, too, Debbie. You can ask Chat to give you a summary of a book. But then you don’t read it for yourself, study it, analyze it, write an essay about it, or give an oral report, etc. We are definitely going to see widespread cognitive impairment among students. Why struggle with a text when the machine can do it for you?
Kind of a Cliff Notes on steroids (showing my age and not that I ever tried that shortcut back in middle school… )
The original Cliff’s Notes for Catcher in the Rye does not even contain the word “grief.”
I worry that as it becomes more common that the next generation of writers and readers will prefer the AI stuff.
Comic Books have gone from pencil and inking to computer generated and I don’t think they look very good, but in the letter to editors, readers liked that art better then when they had the old school artist on it.
I tried watching the new #1 Netflix movie and got a quarter through it when I turned it off. The writing was horrible. It felt soulless and I wonder how much AI was involved.
Makes me sad to see this “diet” drawing and writing be celebrated and become the standard.
Warren, I hadn’t thought of that angle, that there might come a time when AI is actually preferred by many. I think that if you took a poll right now 99% of readers would say they want a human author and would feel “duped” if they found out it was AI hiding behind a name. I think that will remain for a generation or two. But who knows after that?
For those of us who are Christians, and believe that our creativity comes from God, writing is a way to depend on Him and have fellowship with Him. How much do we give up in our spiritual lives if we let AI write?
Essential inquiry.
“The lifeblood of a story can’t be given by transfusion.”
Absolutely. I’d never heard of Sudowrite, but what a perfect name for a tool that lets one pretend to write.
Right about that name, M.C.
Oy!
Haven’t there been a few movies over the last couple of decades warning us about the takeover of humanity by machines? Some of those movies were scary, and yet, here we are. Calmly bowing the knee to them.
Not this writer! If I can’t or won’t write that story myself, it won’t get written.
The lifeblood of a story can’t be given by transfusion. It has to come from within. Love that! Transfusions are artificial, and sometimes don’t save the life. Think on that for a minute.
Good stuff here, Jim. Always “learnin'” me.
Heck, the movies go back to 1927 and Fritz Lang’s classic Metropolis, all about robots and humans. And get this. The final title card says: “The Mediator Between the Head and the Hands Must Be the Heart”.
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Excellent observation!
I could never use AI to write because I’m addicted (I admit it) to the sheer joy of writing. Writing is like breathing for me. As a pantser, I let that creative spirit–I don’t even know what to call it–take over when I’m writing. It becomes like breathing. Like Michelle I’ve always believed my writing is a gift from God and should never be abused or taken for granted and must be used. Like Debbie, I’m growing older and don’t want my brain to atrophy to the point that I’m unable to write or write well. I want it to stay nimble. Bottom line, why would we give up all the fun, joy, and yes, the hard work of writing for something that isn’t even well done . . . .
Now that you mention it, I would think that the “zest” Bradbury talks about is experienced in its purest form by “pantsers.” For plotters, it’s there when we get a workable plan, then have the fun of creating within the plan…or changing it on the fly if need be. Good thoughts!
I forgot to mention how much I enjoyed the Ty Buchanan series. I wished for more of it, but I also understand that feeling of having ended it so perfectly, how could there be more to their story? . . . .
Thank you, Kelly. That’s exactly why I didn’t carry it on, though I was tempted!
When we actually write, we undergo a journey, from beginning to end, whether we’re writing fiction or non-fiction, but especially when we write stories. Letting A.I. generate a story means forgoing that journey, forgoing the experience of laying down the words, forgoing the emotions those words engender in us as we write them. Forgoing that powerful feeling of the building narrative in our imagination and in our soul, and missing out on the ascension we feel writing the climax and resolution of our novels.
Just like Kathleen Turner’s character in that wonderful scene you linked to in “Romancing the Stone.”
I like the way you put that, Dale. “Forgoing the journey.” That’s the cost.
Using AI can’t give the thrill that writing does. AI writing lacks heart, and those quirky connections that mark human writing. Ray Bradbury, a writer with heaps of heart, said it, “If you are writing without zest, without gusto, without love, without fun, you’re only half a writer.”
I like that, Elaine. “Quirky connections” is another mark of full-blooded fiction.
I’m with Kelly. Why would I give up the joy of creation in exchange for a boring life? I believe the satisfaction from producing a novel comes from the hard work involved.
I see an analogy with artificial flora. An artificial bush might look good, but it can’t produce oxogen, can’t grow new branches, and can’t dig its roots into the soil. If a storm rips it apart, it can’t send out new shoots because there’s no life in it.
Terrific analogy, Kay. Yes, you can mass produce plastic plants, and speedily, too. But you’ll never get the same effect as one lovingly nurtured.
I enjoy the journey of producing the story. I’ve thought of a cozy mystery I want to explore but starting from scratch thinking about the red herrings, and plot twists is a little hard for me after I got the base murder and method down, so I asked a few AIs for help. I got some good starting ideas which I later developed into more robust ideas.
I prefer to write the story myself because I haven’t been truly satisfied with any AI output.
Our US school system is a ghost of what it was 40 years ago. AI isn’t going to make for better educational outcomes. I still have hope that parents will rise up and force school boards to go back to the methods which had worked so successfully to bring about the technological revolution which occurred in the 50s through 80s.
Hey, from your keyboard to God’s ears, Fred.
Amazon is busy using their AI to delete books on their platform that are AI generated. If you upload too many books within a short period, you can be thrown off the platform. If the AI monkey pecking at the keys actually produces something readable, anyone can steal it because AI can’t be copyrighted. AI content has the emotional impact of a chemistry textbook. I see no win here for those who create AI content.
I’ve wondered about that, Marilynn. It would be nice if Amazo’s algos could detect AI without error…but it may affect some real writer writing fast, vanilla fiction, too. That would be a shame.
I’m still a new writer and I wholly believe that AI can’t compare to humans when it comes to fiction. I’ve read a couple of very forgettable AI generated novels. Flat, repetitive (the “author” didn’t edit it apparently), emotionless, and boring.
I’ve played with AI and used it to get some ideas, but most are again, boring. AI is only as good as it input and it has no emotions, so don’t expect much from it. Out of that playing with AI, I got one decent idea to use, but not in the form it was given to me.
As for research, you still need to be aware that AI hallucinates a lot. I don’t trust it any more than I do Wikipedia. Double check everything it gives you. Seriously. And if it doesn’t know something, it will make something up instead of saying it doesn’t have that information.
AI is good for some things like marketing, but when writing, even your blogs, that human touch is what keeps us reading. The bland boring AI stuff isn’t going to capture and keep readers.
Agree with everything, BA. Thanks.
I use AI, but sparingly. I sometimes have trouble with descriptions of places. AI helps me dig into the smells and sights. I don’t copy/paste into my manuscript, but reword the description so it sounds like me.
I wouldn’t use AI to write a book. Like so many have said, sometimes I cry when I read my own words. AI can’t do that!
AI is also useful for writing back cover blurbs or descriptions of the workshops I pitch to teach at writer’s conferences.
Spot on. Jane. That’s how I use AI, too.
I love AI for brainstorming (suggest ten ways my character can break her leg). But by the time I tell AI that I need a scene with X, Y, and Z happening I could have already written the scene with X, Y, and Z happening. And I would write it my way. AI would write it like AI, and then I would have to try to fix it. Ugh! No, I want to write my books myself.
However, I do love AI for back cover copy and even giving me a summary of my book or telling me the tropes in it AFTER I’ve written the book. Research too, although you’ve got to verify. It can hallucinate. AI is a tool, like my MacBook or thesaurus. But I’m the writer at the table, and I will keep it that way, even if it means writing as slowly as ever.
Thanks, Robin. You are an AI expert by now, and pretty much how you use it is how everybody on this site seems to be using it. And also the reason we don’t use it for actual prose!
Let me put my slant on insights that have already been suggested in a number of ways.
The very assumption that AI might create good art violates a fundamental metaphysical/religious factor: When we exchange words with AI and when we read an AI-generated piece of fiction, we are not interacting with a real human being.
One could argue that the banal chit-chat we so often engage in is not essentially different from exchanging words with an AI machine. (But see https://www.wsj.com/arts-culture/books/how-small-talk-opens-up-deeper-connections-e05956b3 .)
But good literature (whether “genre” or more general), like real conversation, is essentially different than exchanging words with a machine. Good literature involves a message about human nature and reality from a human being who has seen and communicated something special: Dostoyevsky, Austin, Twain. A lot of fiction—even entertaining, readable fiction—doesn’t do this, of course. But when it’s done, it accomplishes something that AI by definition cannot accomplish.
Large language models absorb and rehash what’s been written before. The rehash may be “original,” but even if it imitates Dostoyevsky or Austin or Twain, it won’t give us their insights, their worldviews. Not can it give us new insights, since by definition, it only selects and aggregates what’s been written.
The more we read AI writing–whether fiction or non-fiction–the more likely we are to lose track of the essential difference between exchanging cybersignals with a machine and communicating with another human being.
Well said, Eric. Thanks for chiming in.
PS–I neglected to credit my wife, Lynn Underwood, whose thoughts and work on AI have significantly helped shape my own.
You definitesolutely can’t trust AI for research. I have Google AI turned off on my desktop browsers with extensions, but not on my phone. I was searching, on my phone, for herbivorous birds, and it claimed that pygmy owls were herbivores. I thought that was strange — and double-checked.
The AI was wrong, wrong, wrong. You can’t trust it. For anything.
And don’t get me started on the plagiarism issue. Disgusting. Rich entrepreneurs trying to make money off the backs of creatives.
Maybe the phrase for AI should be “Mistrust and verify.”
I so agree with everything said here. I’ve used it to generate images for my characters that was pretty good. But there’s no way a machine can come up with the emotions my characters feel and I hope I translate to the page after rewriting a few times, layering in that emotion.
I also fear it will make my brain lazy. I don’t have good muscle tone because I watch exercise videos much like you said about pickle ball…and the brain is a muscle. Don’t use it, you’ll lose it!
Great post. Loved the Shane video…brought back memories of watching it at a drive-in movie many years ago.
Right on, Patricia. I’m gratified by the uniformity of responses here. I think we finally come to a place where the lines are very clear.
A very productive thread!
Bradbury’s quote really nailed it. Couldn’t agree more with you, Jim. Writing has so many health benefits i.e., exercises the brain, lowers blood pressure, and releases feel good hormones like serotonin and oxytocin, not to mention the power of producing something from nothing. Plus, we have the ability to touch lives. Why would we want to sacrifice any of that? Readers deserve more from us.
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