These days, it’s easier than ever to write stories that look like stories. I’m talking about stories follow beat sheets, mimic bestselling formulas, and say all the “right” things. But more and more, I see authors tempted to make creative choices based on convenience rather than imagination or integrity. When that happens, we have to ask: are we saying anything real?
Intentional storytelling—the kind that grows from a writer’s unique vision and voice—is at risk of being quietly drowned out by franchise formulas, AI-generated content, and the pressure to produce faster than ever. If you’ve ever felt like you’re just going through the motions instead of creating something that truly matters, you’re not alone. Let’s explore what’s being lost, and what we can reclaim.
In This Article:
- What Intentional Storytelling Is Not: Avoiding Formula and Empty Content
- How Modern Media Incentivizes Unintentional Choices
- Why “Just Following the Formula” Falls Short
- Tools vs. Crutches: Knowing the Difference
- What Is Intentional Storytelling? Defining Purposeful, Authentic Narrative Craft
- What Makes Details Matter: Cohesion and Resonance
- How Subtext Reflects the Integrity of a Story
- What AI Can’t Do for You (Unless You Know Yourself First)
- Why Intentional Storytelling Matters More Than Ever in an AI-Driven Content World
- How the Creative Landscape Is Changing
- Why the Story Still Starts With You
- Two Questions to Guide Every Writing Decision
What Intentional Storytelling Is Not: Avoiding Formula and Empty Content
How Modern Media Incentivizes Unintentional Choices
These days, I think most people are at least somewhat dissatisfied with the general scope of popular media, particularly movies and TV. Of course, there are stellar exceptions and of course older generations (of which I am suddenly shocked to find I am one!) tend to look back on previous eras of entertainment with no small gloss of nostalgia. But for the past decade, I have looked out onto the entertainment landscape and been increasingly dissatisfied, on a personal level, with what I’m seeing. Although multiple factors play into this (including nothing more than my own evolving perspectives and tastes), I feel the growing trend and temptation away from intentionality is one of the prime culprits.
This is a trend that affects far more than just storytelling. Despite its many benefits—and perhaps its inevitability—the rise of automation, driven by the ever-accelerating pace of life, presents storytellers with ever-growing temptations to take shortcuts. We’ve now reached the point where the most obvious example is the ability to simply have AI write a whole book for you based on nothing more than a premise. But, really, this is just an extreme example at the end of a long line of such shortcuts.
In the interest of identifying what intentional storytelling is, let’s first examine what it is not.
Why “Just Following the Formula” Falls Short
Intentional Storytelling Is Not:
Copy/Paste Beat Sheets – Using structure as a paint-by-numbers formula rather than a flexible framework guided by theme and character. (This is not to say such beat sheets can’t be used for inspiration or troubleshooting, but by themselves, they’re dead forms.)
Formulaic Structures – Plugging characters into a pre-set pattern that forces them to act according to the plot rather than allowing plot to emerge organically from character development.
Soulless On-Demand Content – Prioritizing speed and quantity over resonance, originality, or emotional depth.
Writing to “What Sells” – Chasing trends instead of exploring your unique and authentic voice, interests, and truths.
Fan Service-Driven Plotting – Shaping stories purely to provoke views, applause, or box office returns, at the cost of coherence or meaning.
AI-Generated Brainstorming Replacements – Outsourcing vision, subtext, and originality, especially early in the creative process.
Template-Tweaked Tropes – Recycling familiar stereotypes or plot devices without interrogating their deeper archetypal relevance and resonance.
Focus-Grouped Characters or Themes – Designing stories to appeal broadly instead of deeply.
Although I hope the examples in this list are self-evident, they are also quite general. There will always be instances when some or even all of these things add desirable aspects to a story or offer an author guidance or assistance. However, taken by themselves or without calibration, they all point to the two deepest markers of unintentional writing.
Quite simply, unintentional storytelling is either lazy or fearful.
In the one case, the writer is “filling in the story’s blanks” in some way that fobs off the responsibility of making choices or discovering originality, thus eliminating the need to dig into the depths of one’s own truths. In the other, the writer may be fearful that not following certain trends or using certain tools may endanger relevance and, in some cases, livelihood.
Tools vs. Crutches: Knowing the Difference
This is not to say most of these tools can’t be used to simplify the storytelling process or to help the professional author keep up with the demands of the market. For example, structural beat sheets can be a tremendous learning tool. Producing content and writing “what sells” is, at least to some degree, just part of the devil’s bargain of profitable art. Writing tropes is, to some extent, unavoidable.
It’s less important that examples such as these be avoided altogether and much more important that they be used with intention. To the degree any tool or opportunity is used without intention, it risks weakening the whole. This has always been true for writers, even of something so small as unintentional word choices. But as the ability to craft whole stories with much greater speed and ease becomes more accessible and, frankly, more tempting, it is vital for authors to maintain artistic integrity in every choice they make for their stories—from the words to the tools to the characters to the plot.
What Is Intentional Storytelling? Defining Purposeful, Authentic Narrative Craft
At its simplest, intentional storytelling is paying attention to everything. It is about becoming aware of every choice you are making for your story—from plot, theme, and characters to the color of your protagonist’s dress or the name of her dog. It’s about choosing narrators on purpose and for a reason. It’s about vetting settings. It’s about honing word choice to perfection.
Why? Some of those things—like plot and theme—obviously matter, since they are your story. But why does something as inconsequential as a color or a random setting really matter?
What Makes Details Matter: Cohesion and Resonance
They matter for two reasons: cohesion and resonance.
- Cohesion is about ensuring every piece of a story is part of a greater unified whole.
- Resonance is about the effect of that whole: how every small piece sings together to create an effect bigger than itself—a note of magic that resonates to the audience as a feeling, a sense, something supra-linguistic communicated beyond words or images.
How Subtext Reflects the Integrity of a Story
Ultimately, what we’re talking about is the creation of subtext. Stories are subtext. The stories that truly work—the stories that stay with you long after you finish them—are stories in which the subtext worked. And the subtext only works when the context is contrived of intentional choices.
It’s important not to confuse “intentional” with “conscious.” Although consciousness always brings intention, intention exists beyond consciousness. Although we often speak of brainstorming stories, stories are always first and foremost an act of dreaming—an act of the subconscious, the imaginal self, the symbolic mind.
What AI Can’t Do for You (Unless You Know Yourself First)
When it comes to AI, the subject is certainly complex. As someone who makes a living from creative work, I understand firsthand why AI feels threatening. The landscape of my own livelihood has been impacted significantly these past few years, raising many anxieties about an unknown future. In the spirit of learning about something before forming opinions about it, this year I’ve been experimenting with it in many different ways, particularly looking into how it can help me on the business end of things (i.e., left-brain pursuits such as SEO, research, business brainstorming, and marketing copy) and have often found it helpful. However, my chief concern with its advent is that in relying on it for right-brain activities, it may easily interrupt our dreaming selves and, indeed, do too much of our dreaming for us.
To know the difference requires, first, a keen attention to one’s own imaginal workings and, second, a perhaps even keener attention on the intention of the choices we make for our stories, the origins of those choices, and above all their resonance with ourselves—or what I have always called our “story sense.” This is that deep and true part of ourselves—intuition, sixth sense, gut feeling, subconscious—that knows when something is ours or not—when something is true for us or not.
As you seek intentional storytelling, you can move beyond vigilance and awareness to a deeper intimacy with your own personal truths and symbols. Although left-brained, logic-based brainstorming remains a helpful process for most of us, it cannot replace the right-brained raw creativity of simply imagining. I use a process called dreamzoning to intentionally shut off my logical brain and go deep into my imagination. I’ve rather come to feel that this act of dreamzoning is one of the most subversive approaches an author can take in these times. (Although I offer guided meditations to help with this process, you need nothing more than a little time alone to stare into space.)
Ultimately, storytelling with intention is nothing more than storytelling with honesty, integrity, discipline, and bravery. It begins when we first look deeply into ourselves and write with honesty what is there—no matter how unformed, ill-formed, frighteningly personal, vulnerable, or imperfect—rather than simply mirroring back what we see in others’ stories.
We follow that with the integrity—the wholeness, the cohesion—of making choices that align with those depths, with what feels right for us, with what serves to produce a story that has its own integrity, its own wholeness.
Then comes the discipline of staying with it, even when it’s hard, even when it seems there must be an easier way, a more fun way, a more profitable way, a less scary way. Staying in service to our own integrity is the surest path to any of these things. But even when it seems anything but, we must keep asking the questions that tell if we are indeed staying true to ourselves, our visions, and our stories—not our egos’ stories, but our deepest stories.
And then we face it all with courage—because there is no other way. Storytelling—real, true storytelling (okay, honestly some fake storytelling too) is the most frightening thing in the world. To write with truth requires the incredible vulnerability of feeling deeply into our most primordial selves. To then write well requires the supreme and often painful effort of teaching our brains new pathways, organizing our unruly and chthonic dreams into the straight line of language and communication.
If we fail from time to time in our intentionality with every piece and moment of our stories, it is little wonder. In the end, the only thing that matters is that we keep coming back to the deepest and most honest parts of what we are trying to create and share.
Why Intentional Storytelling Matters More Than Ever in an AI-Driven Content World
Intentional storytelling has always mattered. But I write this post now because I feel it is more important than ever. Storytelling is the soul of culture, and perhaps as writers some of us have lost our souls a bit lately. The demands of content creation can make it easy to lose touch with the inner muse. Tools like AI can make this slide even more tempting. However, any assistance automated tools render us (in any aspect of life) can rob us of intentionality only insofar as we are out of touch with our own deep knowing and imagining.
How the Creative Landscape Is Changing
Many authors these days are asking themselves the hard questions. As the landscape of the artistic world—to say nothing of the world at large—changes so dizzyingly around us, it becomes ever more important for us to ask these questions. All humans are innately storytellers. But those of us who purport to shape and share our stories through the life-changing portals that are books and movies—perhaps bear a somewhat greater responsibility.
This is not a challenge to step away from the workings of modern life, but rather a challenge to experiment with every moment, to test and try and see and respond—to evolve when evolution is the truest and to stand fast when standing is truest—to allow ourselves the spontenaiety of each moment rather than the dogma of easy answers or quick fixes.
Why the Story Still Starts With You
Intentionality is not, nor ever will be, the easiest path for writers to take. But, truly, storytelling was never meant to be easy. As writers, it is our special sleight of hand that allows us to open portals into the depths of life under the guise of adventure and romance and mystery. There’s no such thing as “just” a story. That’s the trick. That’s the magic. But it only works when we, as storytellers and magicians, are in deep service to the integrity of the story itself.
Two Questions to Guide Every Writing Decision
All you have to do is keep asking yourself these two questions:
- Why? Why did I make this choice? Why did I put this in my story? Is it the easiest answer—or is it deep and true?
- How can I go deeper? How can I write something that is more honest, more real, more of my dreaming self?
However you answer those questions—whether with certainty or with more questions—they are the beginning of a deeper relationship with your craft. Intentional storytelling isn’t a destination; it’s a continual practice of listening inward, trusting your creative instincts, and honoring the story that wants to be told through you. The path may not always be easy, but it is always worth walking one meaningful, intentional choice at a time.
In Summary
Intentional storytelling isn’t about rejecting tools or structure. It’s about using them with awareness, discernment, and, above all, honesty. In a time when it’s never been easier to churn out content that looks like a story, the real work of writing lies in remembering why we create in the first place. Every story worth telling begins not with trends or formulae, but with the deep, sometimes uncomfortable truths we carry inside ourselves.
To write with intention is to choose meaning over ease, depth over noise, and wholeness over quick results. It’s an act of quiet rebellion in a culture of speed and automation. We honor the sacred nature of story by treating it, not as a product to be packaged, but as a portal to something true, resonant, and lasting.
Key Takeaways on Intentional Storytelling:
- Intentional storytelling means making every creative choice with honesty, integrity, discipline, and courage.
- Tools like beat sheets and AI must be used with discernment and integrity.
- The rise of algorithm-driven content makes it more important than ever to return to the source: your own imagination, values, and story sense.
- Asking “Why?” and “How can I go deeper?” can reconnect you to authentic, resonant storytelling.
Want More?
If you’re feeling the pull to reconnect with your deeper creative self—to get out of your head and back into your story’s heart—my Archetypal Character Guided Meditations can help. I designed these immersive sessions to support you in finding the “dreamzone”: that quiet, intentional space where imagination flows freely, unshaped by algorithms or outside noise. In these times when technology offers us faster answers, my idea is for these meditations offer a return to deep, slow creativity. You can find them in my shop!
Go on the journey with your characters! Check out the Archetypal Character Guided Meditations.
Wordplayers, tell me your opinions! What does intentional storytelling mean to you—and where in your own writing process do you sometimes feel most tempted to trade depth for ease? Tell me in the comments!
Click the “Play” button to Listen to Audio Version (or subscribe to the Helping Writers Become Authors podcast in Apple Podcast, Amazon Music, or Spotify).
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About K.M. Weiland | @KMWeiland
It’s also a problem with lazy readers who aren’t taking the time to slow down and read the story as it’s written. They’re reading for the tropes and the checking off plot points to comment on for their social media feeds. They’re not reading for the story, either, but a book count to tout and a check list, which is so disappointing. Their attention spans for reading for the nuance of the storytelling is shorter with understandable life priorities and needing to get things done. I think it comes down to writing the story you want to tell in your heart and hoping you find your readers who are going to read and understand what you’re doing. I know so many people who are just plowing through as a competitive sport instead of enjoying the journeys.
I totally agree and was actually already thinking about a follow-up post–because intentional reading (consuming) is just as important, perhaps even more so, than intentional writing (creating). This isn’t to separate writers from consumers or suggest “others” should bear the blame for our “good” stories not being acceptable to the market. Ultimately, all writers are first and foremost members of the audience. This is a reminder that our reading/watching choices not only inform the general market, but also the quality of what we’re inputting into our own experiences and how that that affects the output in our writing.
HA!
I was going to say the same thing.
So many people have stopped reading novels for pleasure and it shows in society, movies, new books, etc… And when I say “Read” I mean people stopped reading sentence by sentence, they skim. Skimming is not reading.
There are two hundred years of great books to read, and people only want the latest fad that will be unreadable in ten years. They are missing so much.
I read classic books like Dickens, chapter by chapter, cycling through them as they were intended, not straight through. Think episodic storytelling. I live with the Story.
I don’t know how many times I’ve read LOTR, and it keeps getting deeper and deeper.
I read the Foreigner series by Cherryh many times, cycling through the books. There are over 20 books in the series, and I will read some of the books over as I go along so it becomes 40 or 50 books to reach the end, where I will start all over again.
Readers “Read”. You can’t reach the “Skimmers”, so don’t focus on them.
BTW, That’s the answer to AI. AI generated text only appears right when you skim. It collapses if you try to read the text.
It is not Story.
But I digress.
I do love the classics. The weight of time is palpable.
As an English major and someone who loves to write, I feel like AI is cheating. I guess it’s the old English teacher in me. I’m glad you wrote about this topic because it is something I have been struggling with lately. I hate to see these people using AI to do “all” of their writing that leaves it lacking in depth and soul. After all, how can a thing write from the heart and soul if it doesn’t have a heart or soul? There is a time and place for AI, but I don’t believe that creative writing is it. Writing is a labor of love. I want to be moved and transported by the written word. Call me old fashioned, but I still believe in the art for arts sake mentality.
I appreciate your response. There are so many high emotions around AI, especially in creator communities, and for understandable reasons. But measured responses like this one are, in my opinion, the key to figuring out how to move forward, both collectively and individually, in ways that reflect our own personal and artistic integrity.
Very well stated, Shelly, and I agree.
I love this post! Your words are what I need now. I am struggling to write my novel with depth and honesty, while dealing with a fear that the readers will not understand some of these true human emotions, things we think about, shed tears over, but rarely ever speak of. Are readers willing and able to emotionally go there? Can I take them there? I am going to try. Thank you for your help!
Glad the post hit the spot! I feel like these are such real and relatable questions for writers to be asking, and I believe they often stem from a deep belief that our subjective experiences will not resonate beyond ourselves. However, when conveyed with skill, I think our subjective experiences *are* universal. Perhaps a good counter question for perspective is: “Would I, as a reader, be willing and to emotionally go there?” If the answer is, yes, then other readers will follow.
You might also enjoy this video I made a few years ago about the importance of subjectivity in the authorial experience: https://youtu.be/zWYKfLOeD_g?si=Fy1VF-l_lci2ewl9
Katie this post and podcast were so inspiring! I loved what you said about storytelling is the soul of culture. It is true, there’s no such thing as “just” a story. Thank you so much for your inspiration!
So glad you enjoyed it!
I just watched a movie this weekend, which I will not name, but was highly praised. Yet, I could not see why. Yes, the beats were all there, but the characters were manipulated in order to hit those beats and, as a result, felt less like characters and more like puppets. It felt as if the writer (or writers) said to themselves, I need this beat to happen so I will make this character act completely out of character (as earlier established in the movie) to hit that beat. Voila! Beat hit but character is hollowed out. Despite a great deal of emotion expressed by the characters in the movie I, personally, felt nothing once the movie was over because the emotions were jerry-rigged to service the plot. Not to show how the character moved through the plot instead of the plot beats moving the characters and pushing them this way and that like pinballs. This, unfortunately, was not an isolated incident. I have seen it more and more in modern films and television. I am glad that I am not the only who has noticed a marked change in storytelling. Your post thoughtfully laid it out. Thank you for it.
“Beat hit but character is hollowed out.”
This is a great way to put it. I often hear from writers who blame this phenomenon on the idea of plot structure. It is something to which I have given a great deal of thought, and I do not believe this is so. Although plot structure can certainly become formulaic, the deeper archetypal symbolism of the story arc itself is *not* formula, but rather something more akin to revelation. The trick, as writers, is the capacity to recognize the pattern of the archetypal experience while still portraying it (first through our own experience, I believe) *as* revelation. This only happens when the plot is naturally generated by the characters and their inner journeys.
A work by Hubert L. Dreyfus, What Computers Can’t Do, might be of interest regarding AI and Intentionality.
Thanks! Will check it out!
The other day, I spent half an hour coming up with names for two dogs that show up in just one scene. I didn’t even name the owners, just the dogs. But I knew when I’d found the right names. It felt right. That’s how I know when a scene works, that’s how I know when I’m on the right track, that’s how I know when the story is finished. I’ve used AI to brainstorm ideas, as more of a sounding board, but ultimately it’s derivative. I love writing. I love the way it feels to create. And I have hope for the future. I think readers will figure it out; they’re consuming empty calories. They’ll hunger for soul food again. Thank you for this conscientious post!
Haha. I relate. Honestly, naming character (or dogs) drives me nuts because it can be such an intensive process. And you. have. to. get. it. right. :p
When real AI starts wrestling, like the best fictional AI, with the question of how to become more human, or a “good” human, it may get interesting…
Yes, the question I always try to ask myself in interacting with AI is, “Is this making me more human or less?”
This post is so important in today’s publishing climate. Thank you for the in-depth look into these issues. I just read an AI-generated novel and was appalled. Normally, I don’t read AI fiction, but I tried this romantic ‘Gatsby-esque’ murder mystery, about a wealthy Connecticut small town, written by a famous bestselling author—who admitted in an interview to using ChatGPT to write the novel in 57 days. No mention of ChatGPT was in the front matter of the book. I couldn’t believe any publisher would print such a literary mess of incompetent writing with faulty story structure and plot, juvenile dialogue, absurd narrative so poorly executed it made me dizzy (and void of all punctuation, chock full of run-on sentences, and redundancies) and charge $29 for the hardcover. One thing for sure, publishers and authors need to be honest and inform readers and book buyers when AI is used in the writing. And since many will not, authors are now adding to their copyright page that their book is ‘human authored’ and ‘no AI-generated text’ was used. This is what we come to, declaring that we are human writers and not a CHAT bot.
It’s also true that humans write books that are probably just as bad as what you read (or worse). But I think the difference is that, in our badness, there is still value–the humanity, the psychological symbolism, the effort–that is valuable even if the work itself is not.
I totally agree. Thank you for pointing these things out. My mission in writing has been to restore our traditional culture. That is, as you mentioned, soul. My focus is epic stories, which are vital to the rising generation. As a member of an older generation, much older than you are, I’m sure. 🙂 I appreciate that you recognize these issues. Having gone to years of work to create my novels, I want them to be memorable, something life-changing, that will be read more than once, even read after I am gone. Certainly something that transcends the fads. That’s why literary fiction is so important. In the classics you find character, theme, and symbolism, rich with all the metaphors, allegories, and layers of meaning that a good book should contain. That’s why they are classics, and not just fads. Anyway, I’ll not go on longer. So thank you again for addressing this Truth so vital to our humanity, and our soul.
I believe deeply in the importance of writing to something larger than ourselves–legacy in this case–even if it the likelihood is that what we write will not achieve immortality. I believe that even the silent or invisible act of one person striving for truth and worth creates ripple effects that always impact the collective, even if the work itself does not.
Thanks KM for this very timely and deeply resonating post. I recently left my day job to pursue my creative endeavour full-time. It was a difficult decision to make. AI helped me–unintentionally. My job was to support people in my industry get closer to their empathy. Ironically, my boss was relying on AI to edit my work and to guide and fill in for their own work more and more frequently. I wondered about the reasoning behind this path and eventually observed that it had to do with fear. Fear of being held accountable for content that could rock the boat. Fear of missing opportunities for promotion. Fear of being left behind. So when I read what KM wrote about fear as a reason for unintentional work, it really resonated with me and helped me further connect the dots. Ultimately, leaving was a joyous experience of moving towards my creative self but I felt a bit sad for the role and industry I was leaving behind as it was meandering off down what I can now describe as a less and less intentional path. As always KM, your work is a blessing. Thank you!
Thanks for sharing your experience! Situations like that are so challenging, but it is amazing when you can see beyond the surface struggles to find the deeper worth and meaning. Very glad you enjoyed the post!
Fantastic, K.M… I may have to borrow some of those thoughts … because I’m writing a story about an actor who is fed up with his writer for not doing exactly what you are proposing in this piece. Thank you, thank you.
Haha! That sounds great! Very meta. 😉
II found it interesting to see what an AI (ChatGPT) thought about the article. It largely agreed with your argument. “1. Urgency Without Alarmism
The piece raises serious concerns about automation and commodified storytelling without demonizing the tools involved (e.g., beat sheets, AI). That nuance is rare and welcome. It doesn’t say, “Don’t use tools,” but rather, “Don’t let them use you.”
2. A Call to Creative Integrity
The core message—that real storytelling demands honesty, depth, and intention—is timeless, but feels especially urgent in today’s content-saturated ecosystem. The emphasis on internal motivation rather than external validation resonates deeply for any serious writer.
3. Well-Defined Contrasts
By clearly outlining what intentional storytelling is not (e.g., formulaic plotting, writing purely to trend), the article gives readers practical ways to self-evaluate. The comparison between “tools” and “crutches” is especially effective.
4. Affirmation of the Subconscious as Source
The advocacy for “dreamzoning” and engaging the subconscious rather than defaulting to logic-driven creation highlights something too often ignored: the power of symbolic, emotional, and imaginal thinking in narrative craft.
5. The Two Questions: A Strong Framework
Ending with the dual questions—”Why did I make this choice?” and “How can I go deeper?”—offers a portable, clear method for writers to stay aligned with their own vision.
⚖️ What’s Open to Debate:
1. The Subtext of Elitism
Some readers might read the piece as subtly gatekeeping—suggesting that unless you’re agonizing over every detail with profound self-awareness, you’re not a “real” storyteller. While this isn’t the author’s intent, the tone can verge on purist, especially for writers who do benefit from formula, or are still developing their creative instincts.
2. Underestimating AI as a Creative Partner
The author is cautious and fair-minded, but still paints AI more as a threat to imagination than a potential extension of it. While it’s true that AI can dilute intention if used lazily, some writers are using it as a tool to reach deeper—e.g., bouncing ideas, simulating dialogue, or challenging cliché.
3. Neglecting Accessibility
The piece doesn’t fully acknowledge that formulaic or fast storytelling has a place—sometimes out of necessity (e.g., livelihood, mental health, time constraints). There’s a risk in conflating intentionality with slow, emotionally intense labor. Some stories serve a functional, even therapeutic role, precisely because they’re predictable or commercial.
🔍 Why This Article Matters
In the current climate—where creativity often gets boiled down to optimization, SEO, and speed—this article is a powerful reminder that storytelling is still a human act, rooted in identity, imagination, and emotional resonance. It’s not a “how-to,” but a why-to—a manifesto that could help writers realign with their inner compass when they feel lost in the noise.
🧭 Bottom Line
This is not a rejection of modern tools—it’s a plea for their mindful use. The article succeeds in reclaiming storytelling as an act of soulful creation rather than scalable production. Whether you write literary fiction, action thrillers, or screenplays for Marvel, the core challenge remains the same: to make every choice matter.
If you’re someone writing in the age of AI, this article is both a mirror and a map.
Hah! To be fair, I think its nuances are good points. (My Libra moon does appreciate ChatGPT’s evenhandedness most of the time. :p ) I am a big proponent of moderation and balance. Perspectives that skew to heavily to one side or the other are generally, in my experience, projections from the psyche’s shadow. The truth is often found most obviously somewhere in the middle. But it can be easy to get lost in the murk of blandness as well. I am neither a proponent nor a detractor of AI. I see it as a powerful tool that has already irrevocably changed the world. Not to be too dramatic, but I often think of this quote from LOTR:
I do not think denial is the answer, but discretion is.
Kate, I couldn’t have said it better. This describes perfectly the uncomfortable feeling I’ve been having in my chest for quite some time. Sometimes, I just want to yell and rage at these abuses and excuses for adding mindless mud to paint.
Thank you for nailing your theses to our door. Let us hope it sparks reform.
I hear you. What I keep coming back to is that the only thing I have control over is myself. What I contribute and how I contribute it–in alignment with what is most true to me and my own integrity and personal wholeness–is where my focus needs to be.
Thank you, K.M. I very much needed to read this; it came at the perfect time.
I’m in the polishing stage of a middle grade fantasy which boldly crosses a line into exploring systematic bigotry, racism, and government overreach, and I was terrified to write it. Also, I couldn’t stop writing it. This is the first book I’ve written for this young of an audience, and I didn’t know if I could get away with tackling these issue head-on. Because my goal is traditional publication, and I worry I’ve just written myself out of the market. I suspect this book is either going to be hit or a dud — nothing in between. Your post eased my tension and gave me a glimmer of hope that readers (and agents and publishers) might welcome a middle grade book with hard subjects and authentic emotions.
Fingers crossed.
I always tell myself, “Write scared.” I feel that if you’re writing *into* that feeling of terror, you’re probably doing something right!
I use AI for help with grammar correcting, but I try to keep its sentence to a minimum. It feels like it’s not me writing it when I use it, no matter how well it reads.
This is an encouraging article! I’ve discovered when I’m intentional with my writing its peaceful, exciting and helps give me clarity on the story and where it’s going. It leaves me excited to come back to it again for my next writing session!
AI tools like ChatGPT are kind of like a Swiss Army Knife–they do it all. But just as we had the sovereignty to choose which tools we used previously, we also have the ability to choose *what* we use AI for. Some things will be a good fit (i.e,. I’ve been using it to help me track macros for my daily meal plans), others will not (i.e., perhaps creating images to join the latest viral meme–I’m not passing judgment, since I have gotten the occasional kick out of seeing it done, but it’s clearly in a different category).
Love the post – sums up a lot of struggles I think writers are having right now, and probably in the near future!
Thanks for stopping by, Thomas! It is an ongoing conversation, with ourselves first and foremost, to be sure.
Excellent article! Such a joy to read, and SO INCREDIBLY spot on in the “modern era of entertainment”!
You talk about so many things I’ve been thinking about for years, and I really do hope that writers will go beyond “laziness and fear” and boldly embrace the questions you present at the end: “why?”and “how can I go deeper?”
Exactly for the reason of intentionality (though I didn’t think about it in those words until I read this post), I struggle to come up with new story concepts that I can wholeheartedly commit to.
I have a very imaginative and intellectual fantasy story (series) in the works right now, but can’t easily see how I can pull of something “as profound and emotionally vulnerable” a second time… But maybe it’s OK to just write that one series if it’s both the width and depth of what I have to communicate? 🙂
Bit of a side-tangent, but there are certainly days I wish I had “something easier” to work on: this project is something that will be best executed in a visual medium, either light novel or visual novel (w/ game mechanics), and I can feel really overwhelmed when I think about all the artwork I have to do + some music composition (for visual novel + (possibly) light novel) + some programming (for visual novel in particular)… >.<
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* FOOTNOTE: For reasons you somewhat imply in your post, or may guess, I wouldn't want to hand over this project to a Hollywood Film Studio. Least not before I've executed one volume of the series according to my own vision (in any medium).
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… But then, as an evening of thinking about this conundrum passes by every so often, I always land on the same conclusion: "Yes, my current story project, "Philosophy of a Deeper Life", really is the most authentic, philosophical and profound thing I can put out to the world." And then I think that if I put this project on ice for "something easier", I'll just end up fooling myself.
It's also by asking the question of "why" that I manage to keep going, despite all the obstacles in the path.
To close off: High five, Katie, for an insightful, masterful, "really-pushing-yourself-to-the-limit" piece! 🙂
I especially appreciated the way this piece explores why intentional storytelling matters in an era increasingly influenced by AI and algorithm-driven content. The message thoughtfully emphasizes the value of authenticity, purpose, and genuine human perspective in creating stories that connect with readers on a deeper level. The writing offers a timely and balanced reflection on how technology can shape the way content is produced and consumed while reminding us that meaningful storytelling remains rooted in human experience and emotion. A beautifully written piece that encourages writers to approach their craft with greater intention while celebrating the enduring power of authentic stories to create connection, understanding, and lasting impact.