I have finally arrived. The pinnacle of my writing career. I have been accused of using AI to write my writings.
Aww yeah. Em dash me, baby!
Specifically, I was accused of using AI to write these newsletters because of “clumsy, archaic or formulaic ‘wooden’ phrases which a 21st century educated person would never use”.
Gosh.
Technically, I was predominantly educated in the 20th century but let us not trifle with petty quibbles here.
In case I haven’t made it abundantly clear over the last couple of years, Writers’ HQ is at the forefront of the Butlarian Jihad. That is, we are on a crusade against thinking machines. That is, we are absolutely not here for using generative AI to write, to create art, to do any of those most human of things.
Any clumsy, archaic or formulaic, wooden phrases are entirely of my own making. And you know what? I’m proud of them.
My writing absolutely sucks sometimes. It can be clumsy, archaic, formulaic and wooden. Sometimes it downright sucks balls.
I’m proud of that too.
I’d never show that writing to anyone, but I’m proud that it exists. Because once that exists, the good stuff comes after.
In the newsletter a couple of weeks ago, we talked about how the interesting thing in a story is the way in which characters move from thesis through antithesis to synthesis. That it’s the manner in which the journey is conducted that matters. Well guess what? It’s the same for your writing process. Bam bam baaaammmmmmm! BIG PLOT REVEAL!
<flashback time>
Do you remember all the way back in April 2025 when a bunch of extremely rich women hitched a ride in a penis-rocket to the edge of Earth’s atmosphere and said they were astronauts? Do you also remember how absolutely no one took them seriously? Space tourists, sure. Astronauts? Absolutely not.
When we watch a little robot dude pootling around Mars, or a rocket taking off to go on some cool mission, or the International Space Station humans come back to Earth after definitely not being stuck in space for nine months, we are in awe of the amount of work that’s gone into the final product. Yes, the end result is badass, but the journey to get there—with all the dedication, struggle, heartbreak and discovery—is really what makes us go whoa.
It’s the long process of amassing all that knowledge, understanding things that are unfathomable to most of us, of figuring out one tiny part of the instructions for the universe, like it’s some kind of megastructure from Ikea. It’s inspiring. It’s awesome, in the original meaning of the word.
Getting a lift in the backseat and claiming to be part of that epic story is a straight-up lie.
This is the same for writing.
When we read a book, when we’re lost in a story, we don’t always see the work that went into it quite as easily as we do when we watch a rocket take off.
But what you’re holding in your hand is the result of years of accumulated knowledge, understanding, exploration, experimentation, passion, fear and joy. That’s what makes it so special – not just the protagonist’s journey from thesis, through antithesis to synthesis, but the author’s too.
And, sure, the story of how computers went from abacus to LLM is pretty fucken inspiring, so when generative AI spits out something that looks a bit like a great author might have written it, that is impressive from a technical perspective. But no one picks up a novel because they want to be wowed by a computer programme. They pick up a book because they want to be wowed by the writer’s humanity, by their journey from thesis, through antithesis to synthesis.
They want you to bring your joy to the page. Your fear. Your sorrow, your ideas, your innate, unique weirdness. They want to feel your journey as much as they want to feel the journey of the characters in your story.
What we want is to see YOU in all your naked glory. (Emotionally naked. Jeeeez guys).
Go write (but keep your keks on).
Sarah & Team WHQ