*The following post was 100 percent written by the author. No bots were considered, consulted, or deployed in the creation of this content.
I’m concerned that my ability to recognize AI-generated writing is reaching the PhD level. I wish this wasn’t so. Nostalgia is growing for the days when platforms featured a thousand variations of individuals authentically and enthusiastically posting “Here’s a picture of my delicious ramen bowl!” and “Look at this incredible grilled cheese sandwich I’m about to sink my teeth into!”
Ah, the good old content days. Simpler times. I miss seeing photos of what people eat for lunch.
I did not have mastering this skill listed as a goal on my vision board. (I also never imagined I’d feel compelled to include disclaimers about my writing being all mine, and not bot-enhanced, either.)
Yet here I am, including a disclaimer and noticing the glut of posts that ChatGPT, or some other text generating tool, so obviously generated smeared across every platform by people (supposedly, because bot accounts are sprouting up like dandelions all over the place so who really knows anymore), people who prompted for the output, hoping for the same suite of outcomes: speed, efficiency, attention. I’m seeing the distinctive AI writing style showing up more and more on LinkedIn and Substack, the two platforms I spend time on. I suspect it’s happening everywhere else as well.
For example, content peppered with the “Not Only, But Also” statements, like this one:
”This isn’t just another leadership tactic. This is a way forward in an accelerated world.”
I’ve used this framework in my original writing. Seems like ChatGPT has cornered the market on styles like this one, along with a long list of others.
Don’t even get me started with the poor em dash — this tiny line which serves an incredible purpose in writing has become gen-AI’s punching bag.
Yikes.
Soulless yet perfectly crafted AI-generated content is reaching epidemic proportions if it hasn’t already morphed into a full-blown content pandemic.
I suspect others are inadvertently developing this skill, too. Being able to “spot the bot.”
This situation raises some important questions:
-What value, if any, does this skill have?
-Does it matter?
-Who cares?
That last question may be the most important of all. Everyone’s overwhelm is already on overdrive.
Do we really have time to ponder, let alone care about, the proliferation of AI-generated posts on social media?
Turns out, I do have the time, and I do care. Not because I’m interested in calling people out for posting AI-generated content. If that’s what you want to do, go for it.
No, I care because original thinking, imagination, and writing have been constant companions for me since I could hold a pencil and put words on the page. Writing has unlocked some of the biggest mysteries of my life as I wrestled with them. Writing, like running the ball into the end zone and swimming across a lake and smelling the top of my baby’s downy head, is the province of being human. At least it was.
Now with the bots doing so much of the heavy lifting, writing is being eroded out of us one polished post at a time. Along with other pursuits formerly known as human (#fkah).
I would like these things to stick around, please.
That’s why my answers to the questions listed above are:
-Yes, there is value in being able to recognize AI-generated writing, if only so you don’t become enamored with how easy it is to vomit out huge chunks of text that sound amazing but are actually soulless, ultimately turning you into another one of its victims.
-It absolutely matters that more people say no to the quick fixes AI promises and yes to using the tools intentionally as collaborators, not replacements. Our cognitive abilities are at stake.
-And yes, I do care. Because I love words and thinking and self expression and the feeling of moving my hand holding a pen across a blank page. Turns out, being human, as messy and imperfect as that is, is actually pretty amazing.
Perhaps people like me are fading into the background in favor of those touting the benefits of churning out fast, slick, perfectly executed prose you can simply copy and paste to fulfill some invisible content quota in a desperate bid for engagement.
That’s okay. I sense there are more people like me quietly agreeing that certain aspects of these tools are useful and cool, but replacing original thought and art and voice — the very essence of being human — is most definitely not.
So go ahead and post a photo of your BLT. I will love seeing it.