Newsletter from Jay Wilcox - February 2023: On Creative Robots

Good morning/afternoon/evening,

Spring semester has begun. I'm teaching my first course in scriptwriting, and so far we've talked a lot about mapping stories--creating characters that feel real, voices that draw our audience in. From my own days as a creative-writing student, I recall the term verisimilitude, which refers to the nature of something appearing true or believable.

Good writing captures the human experience--and in this light, I consider the recent buzz around ChatGPT and other AI software that supposedly does our writing for us. As you can imagine, I've also extensively researched ways of detecting AI-derived essays. I've conferred with anxious colleagues and sought expert opinions, many claiming that this is just another technology we must learn to live with. After all, did we not learn to live with social media and the internet and television and all the other game-changing technologies that came before? Did Socrates not wring his hands during the advent of the written word, out of fear that no one would be compelled to remember anything anymore?

I have no interest in stories written by computers. These already exist, as does AI-generated visual art and music engineered by algorithms. Ever heard of "The Lost Tapes of the 27 Club?" Thanks to artificial intelligence, we can hear "new" songs by Jimi Hendrix, and it's scary how good they sound--how perfectly the machine sings in Jimi's timbre, a sonic mask for so much cold calculation. With the entirety of his musical catalog assimilated, the machine can even write lyrics in his voice. "You're gonna kill me," it wails, tearing into another soaring, perfectly-Hendrix guitar solo. "I ain’t gonna hurt you, I'm just digging this whole dream."

Writing is one of our most human triumphs.

When I read something really good, I imagine the author putting the words together. I imagine them imagining their readers. My engagement with the text becomes a sort of conversation, a means for the author and I to witness each other. On the other hand, AI-generated work feels like a two-way mirror. There is no artist on the other side--which leaves only the other half of the conversation, the half behind the glass which observes me in ways I can't see or understand. Are algorithms not designed to monitor our consumption? To ruthlessly study that which holds our interest?

I'm not saying that AI-generated work is inherently dangerous. However, consider its provenance and the fact that, to get so good at creating like us, these algorithms had to absorb so much of us.

I thank you for engaging in this conversation with me. I could go on for a lot longer about this topic, but I'm curious what you think. Any thoughts on artificial intelligence--specifically, its capacity to create writing and art? How do all of these developments make you feel?

I sincerely hope you're well. The weather's been colder here lately, so I hope you're staying warm, too.

Infinite Regards,

Jay