A-I-A-Oh!

A have a friend - actually, not so much a friend, more-so someone I often bump into on dog walks. Firstly, let me explain the purpose of dog walks for me (aside from exercising the dogs, obvs!). These little trots around the woods near my house are my ‘thinking time’, ‘downtime’, an opportunity to be alone with my thoughts. So much of my writing, including huge chunks of Tempus Cross, has been created whilst walking my two dogs, Monty (Python) & Joni (Mitchell).

Up until recently, I made it a rule to always leave my mobile phone at home when taking the dogs out, freeing me of the usual calls/texts/WhatsApp disturbances. Unfortunately, I was forced to renege on that rule when Monty & Joni ran off for around 20 to 30 minutes one day, a period of time in which I was left panicking and helpless, unable to call anyone at home to come and help me find the little perishers.

These days, reluctantly carrying my phone inside my pocket as I amble about the fields and woodland, I still do my utmost not to engage with anyone, other than a polite ‘hello’ as I pass a fellow dogwalker or other 'randoms' who are taking in the fresh air.
“You unsociable sod” I hear you cry. "Guilty" I retort.
The problem is (and I know I’m not alone here), I just really like my own company and there does seem to be an unwritten code amongst dogwalkers which states we are obliged to stop and talk all things canine.

In truth, whenever pinned down by a member of the dog-appreciation-society, this unsociable sod doesn’t care where his accoster got their pooch from, how long they’ve had him/her, or that the little blighter is a bit timid but really very friendly. All he really wants to do is be left in peace to write his books inside his head as he ambles along!

I’ve digressed - I have this ‘friend’ who I bump into, she is a very nice lady, but she is clearly a career-minded type who just loves to talk business - the exact opposite of what I wish to think about during my period of solitude. Around a year-or-so ago, during an overly long chat, I’d told her I was writing a book (because I was), something that immediately sparked a reaction.
“Wow, that's awesome. Are you using AI to to help you write?” she enthused, to which I replied "Er... no", whilst simultaneously thinking; 'Why would I?'.

The lady then went on to furnish me with the all the wonderful wonders of AI, coming across almost as affronted that I’d not considered using these progressive tools to enhance my chapters.

Of course, being polite (and not knowing her well enough to argue), I didn’t air my view that using AI wouldn’t be me writing, would it? Instead, I pretended I'd 'look into it' when I got home - which I didn't.

Cut to more recently; post-publication of Tempus Cross, I still occasionally bump into this lady from time to time and she always enquires how the second book is coming along, which is nice of her...then she goes and spoils it:
“Have you now come round to the idea of using AI to write?”
“No.”
“Not for editing?”
“Nope.”
"Surely for chapter formatting?"
"Nein!"
“Hmmm, okay. But for ideas when you hit a wall, yes?”
“Neyt!”

As I continue to disappoint the lady, what I want really want to say to her, but probably never will, is this:
“If I use AI to write, then that’s not me creating, is it? If I can’t drag the right words from inside my head and instead choose a robot to produce them for me, that’s the robot’s writing, not mine. If a phrase is paining me because I can't quite get it right, then I shall continue to tussle with that phrase until it submits to my will - then it’s still my phrase, not a robot’s phrase. Artificial Intelligence, in my view, would do nothing but steal an author’s identity and unique writing style away. Imagine if AI could magically take every book ever written and run the narrative through its complex brain to retrospectively perfect the text, all those wonderful novels we've been enjoying for so many years. Wouldn’t we then be left with every book appearing as if written by the same person, because they’d all now be re-invented in a duplicated, very correct, but very soulless style?
When I write, I include silly words, daft phrasing, weirdness, outlandish descriptions, that’s my style - can AI recognise and replicate that? I think not. Or... can it? Is AI a cleverer than I'm giving it credit for? Nah! Course it's not.”

By now, of course, my rant will have prompted my dog walking 'friend' to have taken her pet and hotfooted it away, unable or unwilling to accept my perception of the future that she regularly attempts to push upon me.

As I sit and ponder this overly long blog, I realise I'd much rather produce a really naff book on my own steam than a masterpiece by the hand of AI. And all that leaves me to say to my 'friend' is, simply, this:
“Pleeeeaaaaasssse stop asking me if I use AI to write my books!”
Now, Siri...where have those little pests, Monty & Joni, run off to?

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