The Art of Writing in the Age of AI
Long before AI took the world by storm, writing felt more like an intimate craft: with every nerve ending of my brain working together to create a piece that spoke my heart aloud. Every sentence, every word, every letter that I scribbled used to be well-thought-out, reflecting hidden emotions that I could claim to be my own. Today, I usually prompt AI to write the most emotive of all paragraphs, and it surprises me with results that touch the deepest parts of my soul. But at the end of the day, the truth sinks deep within me, and so does guilt. None of those emotions are my own. All those words today that are applauded for apparently being penned by me, are nothing but a result of my half-hearted and half-baked prompts that my brain failed to act upon.
Today, I usually prompt AI to write the most emotive of all paragraphs, and it surprises me with results that touch the deepest parts of my soul. But at the end of the day, the truth sinks deep within me, and so does guilt. None of those emotions are my own. All those words today that are applauded for apparently being penned by me, are nothing but a result of my half-hearted and half-baked prompts that my brain failed to act upon.
So today, I decided to start afresh in a world that’s so overstimulated by accessibility and dependency. Accessibility of the internet, and dependency on third-party tools. Today, I decided to take control of my mind, and remind it of those olden days when there weren’t countless options. I’m keen on reminding myself of those days when I penned my thoughts and didn’t feel guilty of what the end-result was. Because what’s the point of the glitz and glamour of appreciation, when they’re not entirely mine to claim?
But how do I do that? I guess I’ve figured out some ways.
Separating Motivation from Discipline
I came across a post today. A visual that elaborated how there are two ways you can reach your goal. Either you’re highly motivated, or you’re highly disciplined. If you think deeply, motivation isn’t consistent. If you have to traverse a straight line upon your motivation, you’ll realise how you have to navigate through irregular peaks and troughs. Because in the age of social media, it’s highly unlikely that motivation finds you every single day with the same intensity. Some days, you’re all good to run a 10 km marathon. But for the subsequent days, you’ll probably find yourself wondering if it’s even a good idea to keep at it.
But when it comes to the latter, your motivation becomes secondary. ‘Cause even when you’re disciplined in the most tiresome of all days, there’s still some little progress, and you’re moving forward. Yes, motivation is certainly a key factor when it comes to achieving consistency with your discipline. However, at the end of the day, you have to treat writing like you treat brushing your teeth every morning. Something that you’ve put years of effort practising enough to turn it into a habit. Habits that stick and come naturally to you.
Considering the Art of Writing as Something “Tangible”
Of course, there’s comfort in settling for the “can’ts” and “won’ts” when you aren’t convinced why you need to get something done. Imagine knowing that your flowers would wither if you don’t water them right away, you would certainly not need any more convincing, right? I think the major shift occurs when you consider your desires as something tangible. If you want a pizza at any cost, you’d probably buy yourself a pizza. If you’re convinced that you need to file your taxes, you’re most likely left with no other choice.
Thus, if you feel being a fulfilled human isn’t quite convincing, maybe consider your desire to be something as tangible as a flower, running the risk of getting withered if you do not water it right away. Yes, you probably want to write more. But you procrastinate, thinking that the mere absence of the act of writing isn’t leading to an obvious disaster. At the end of the day, you know that there’s no such tangible form of discomfort in living with the undercurrent of “what could have been” against “what’s getting destroyed”. I believe a change of heart would warrant you to consider that each word you do not type is another paper (read: opportunity) getting crumpled. Opportunity to go through a piece that’s solely your own. Opportunity to have something personal penned under your name without any guilt.
Realising a Road is Enough to Start Walking
For the longest time, my mental roadblock convinced me to think that I needed my own website to write. In fact, I was so OKAY with the thought of not having anything written or published, I felt that the only thing that would motivate me to write was a pretty workstation with a scented candle. Until I couldn’t find the lighter today. After which I was like, “then be it.”
Yes, I remember reading Virginia Woolf’s idea in “A Room of One’s Own”, wherein she explored how a woman at least requires a room of her own, and probably some money to write fiction. But that’s all one requires. Anybody who wishes to write can afford a paper.
If we need to start walking, a road (maybe with some craters and manholes) is enough to get the act going. The negatives can be dealt with when you’ve already started. You can definitely start with the basics, and upgrade when you feel you’re not quite reaching your full potential. If your first written content isn’t at par with what you had earlier conceived, you can try shuffling a few things in your physical space and see what works best for you.
Not Obsessing over the Results
If there’s anything that held me back from writing for a long time was my obsession with what my published article would look like. I would imagine my write-ups being hosted on some fancy website, them being circulated around through a personal newsletter to numerous subscribers, and being socialised across channels.
I realised that my obsession with the outcome kept me from really exploring how the process of writing my first draft would be — with no strings and picture-perfect results attached. Just the sheer and simple act of typing, typing, typing. With no set goal or ambition; letting words flow with no set standards to achieve. I am relatively familiar with the concept expanded in “Atomic Habits” by James Clear. He stresses upon how even the simple most habits, when done consistently over days, can lead to a significant collective improvement. But the focus shouldn’t be on the end improvement, but on the daily habits. You let your acts shape up your life, rather than letting your big dreams hold you back. If you consider your everyday writing exercise as a short sprint rather than an overwhelming odyssey you’re set to venture upon, it might be easier to tame your mind. Basically, let your small acts drive your big dreams and not the other way around.
Knowing that You Won’t be Celebrated, and That’s Okay
If there’s anything that held me back from writing for a long time, it was my obsession with what my published article would look like. I would imagine my write-ups being hosted on some fancy website, being circulated around through a personal newsletter to numerous subscribers, and being socialised across channels.
I realised that my obsession with the outcome kept me from really exploring how the process of writing my first draft would be — with no strings and picture-perfect results attached. Just the sheer and simple act of typing, typing, typing. With no set goal or ambition, letting words flow with no set standards to achieve. I am relatively familiar with the concept expanded in “Atomic Habits” by James Clear. He emphasises that even the simplest habits, when practised consistently over time, can lead to a significant collective improvement. But the focus shouldn’t be on the end improvement, but on the daily habits. You let your acts shape your life, rather than letting your big dreams hold you back. If you consider your everyday writing exercise as a short sprint rather than an overwhelming odyssey you’re set to venture upon, it might be easier to tame your mind. Basically, let your small acts drive your big dreams and not the other way around.
At the end of the day, writing is more of a personal journey than a weapon to take over the world. Anybody who’s seeking inspiration will find value in what you produce. But every so often, it is your own smallest acts that end up inspiring you. Even the smallest of all drops can create a ripple on the surface of an ocean. You just have to convince yourself enough to _be that drop_. And the rest will follow.
