In a world in which readers no longer care--or too few readers care--about the difference between AI and real authors, would I really keep writing?
I have been heartened in recent weeks to see what seems to be a growing disdain for generative AI, as for the longest time, I quite frankly was reasonably certain the market was headed toward resigned acceptance. I still think there's an ethical world for analytical AI--and lest I be the first to cast stones, I must admit to tinkering with (but never selling or passing off as my work as) generative AI--but as I see continuing stories about pushback against AI in novels, films, and so forth, it gives me hope that the market disdain for generative AI is greater than I thought. This is especially true in younger audiences, whom I most feared were likely to accept if not embrace generative AI.
However.
The cynical, perhaps jaded, part of me knows Midjourney, HiggsField, etc. aren't going anywhere. I don't have to look far in the author communities to find authors who openly brag about using AI to increase productivity in ways that go beyond streamlining data or collating reviews. I'm old enough to remember when people swore that putting credit card information online was something only stupid people would do; now you get ridiculed as being a fossil or a luddite for not shopping online.
I don't think the question of if AI will replace human authors is as gone as many would like to believe. The truthful answer is that there'll probably always be room for both, especially from a feeling of connection that social media and in-person events can drive. But it does revive a question that I addressed in a previous post.
Would I really keep writing in a world in which AI and human authors are indistinguishable?
***
This was what I wrote last time on how I would respond to that outcome:
"The day I realize this scenario (should it come to pass), I'll likely hit a funk. I'll probably not write for at least a couple weeks, maybe even longer, feeling nihilistic. I'll rail against AI in this blog, decry the next generation of readers, and say I was born in the wrong generation.
And then?
I'll remember how, in the late 2010s, when I had no money, maybe two dozen consistent readers, and no clear pathway to success, I wrote fantasy anyways.
I'll remember how I'd get up before sunrise--which, if you know me, is all but impossible--make my morning smoothie, let my dogs out, and write fantasy for 3-4 hours, even when sales didn't break double digits.
And I'll remember how, man, money might have been tight, economic mobility as an author seemed a pipe dream, and new releases were met with a collective shrug... but damn if it wasn't some of the most fulfilling creative time in my life."
As I read this now, several months later, I don't think it's wrong or naive. But I think it misses on something that I haven't yet figured out.
Even though sales never broke double digits, even though I said I had "no clear pathway to success," that possibility remained--and still remains--within grasp. I had no clear pathway not because of innate market forces, but simple ignorance. I've learned more about marketing, sales, etc. that clearly shows that this belief wasn't driven by truth, but ignorance.
But put that aside for a second and focus on something bigger. There's something to be said for the idea of hope being the most powerful idea of all, because if we have no hope--and hope doesn't have to be for sales; it can be hope for fulfillment, hope for approval of close friends, etc.--then what do we have to work for? There's zero denial on my part that the hope of creative fulfillment pulls me to fantasy, and since it's a hope that I know gets rewarded, there's little doubt that I at least have that going for me. So in some respects, I probably would keep writing.
But there's a MASSIVE difference between the creative writing of 30-60 minutes a day, done solely for the soul's gratification, versus writing 3-4 hours a day, plus marketing, plus networking, plus reading, all done with the idea of building a career that, in this worst-case scenario, would be all but impossible to achieve with AI breakthroughs.
As a father, a husband, and, far less meaningful but still relevant, a home owner and citizen of a first-world country, I have an obligation to my family and myself to spend enough time such that I meet my financial obligations. Currently, building a fantasy career is a viable path to that, but in this awful case, it would not be. I'd be writing for an audience of maybe a couple hundred people, rolling the dice that something would break through to reach the larger audience that consumes AI more than it does human authors.
That's a hard, hard, hard gamble to make when others depend on you. And as someone who once literally gambled for a living, playing poker in Las Vegas (some would say it's not technically gambling since you can tilt the odds, but for all intents and purposes, it is), I can tell you there might not be a worse thing for your sanity than to gamble for a living. I have other outlets in consulting and freelancing that are not gambling at all I could always turn to; I would hate to think that AI would force me there (ignoring for a second that it's arguable AI will come for my freelancing services well before it would my creative career) but it is a real possibility. One silver lining, I suppose, is that I generally live well within my means, so I'm fortunate that one bad year of AI dominance would not doom me to the streets, but that's not exactly what helps me sleep at night.
So yeah, I can't pretend there wouldn't be an impact on my writing.
***
Despite the general pessimism of the above section, though, I actually still don't have that much concern about it. Perhaps this is optimism as comfort, or ignorance as bliss, but I really do believe a couple ideas that alleviate my concerns.
One, the aforementioned silver lining is not nothing. The greatest value in savings isn't that you can buy a nicer car, a sleeker laptop, or fancier dinners; it's that you can buy time. $10,000 in the bank, when a layoff or sales drought hits, buys you an extra few months that you wouldn't have had otherwise. Those extra months are invaluable in figuring out how best to pivot for long-term financial and professional health versus scrambling to find whatever possible to make ends meet, and "whatever possible" often ends up being long hours for low pay, the worst recipe for long term success and peace of mind.
Two, though it wouldn't make sense to spend much time on a gamble, there's one key distinction between gambling with an author career versus gambling in poker.
In poker, you have to be correct multiple times per session to break even. In writing, you just have to hit it big once.
The massive, massive explosion of series like Dungeon Crawler Carl is incredible, but one thing that should never be overlooked were the dire straits Matt Dinniman found himself in. I'll probably get the details wrong, but on an interview of his I saw about a month ago, he talked about having two kids in college and being near broke right when the pandemic struck. It would be wrong to say DCC was a pure gamble--it's very good--but it's also not wrong to say that there's an element of luck in the degree of success he's had. It's also definitely not wrong to say he had many books before this with varying degrees of success (none seemingly enough to break past financial tough times), but he only needed his one breakthrough to reach the heights he has.
That break might never come for me. It doesn't for many authors. But it is a break that is possible, even in a doomsday world where 90% of content is written by AI, and if I only need to be right once for the payoff to be big, then a consistent 30-60 minutes per day is absolutely worth it.
***
I sat out to write this blog post because, by nature, I'm a contrarian.
When I heard people proclaim AI was going to erase 90 percent of jobs in five years, I was extraordinarily skeptical. But the flip side is true too; when I see successful pushback of generative AI leads people to believe genAI will never succeed in the arts, I wonder if they're celebrating a Pyrrhic victory rather than a true one. So long as the technology is there, someone will use it, and someone will even succeed without it being known.
I had to reevaluate what I wrote before because I was no longer sure how true it held. And like most things, when parsed apart, there were some details that maybe didn't hold the weight it had earlier.
But I am pleasantly surprised at how well the general conclusion held up, even if the details did not quite.
Yes, I will still continue to write. I may not write as much, may not push into the field as much with the limited time I have, but I will still write. And I will rely on the one thing that keeps any of us going in any of our fields.
Hope.