What is Writing For?

On man, machines, and words

Greetings, dear readers! Things have been quiet hereabouts, unusually so, for which I humbly ask everyone’s forgiveness. This piece will be a long overdue offering for my paying subscribers. If you’re a recent free subscriber, I hope the free preview piques your curiosity. My posting is typically more frequent, but I’ve been occupied with well and truly moving into my newly purchased home, a whirlwind process very graciously assisted by local friends. I want to write something about becoming/being a homeowner, but for now I’m just wandering around in a daze and pinching myself.

While I’ve been getting settled, I’ve been following an entertaining little scandal in the world of literary publishing. The magazine Granta had a deal that its website would publish the winning entries for the prestigious Commonwealth Short Story Prize. After they were announced and published, three out of five of these entries came under suspicion of using AI, with the top prizewinner being especially blatant. It was “written” by a Jamir Nazir from Trinidad and Tobago, whose previous literary achievements seem to consist mostly of some terrible romantic poetry. Entitled “The Serpent in the Grove,” it’s a mish-mash of “exotic” prose and incoherent metaphors wrapped around half a plot—so, a perfect imitation of what currently passes for literature among the sort of people who judge this sort of thing.

One can’t decide whether to mock Mr. Nazir or thank him for exposing just how unserious the whole “literary” enterprise has become in postmodern times. The story was briefly taken down but appears to have been restored. We’ll see how long it lasts. Read it here for now if you want a good chuckle. And if you really want to risk spewing your morning coffee, read this old Onion gem that’s getting a new lease on life as people are reminded of it, in which advice column questions are answered by an Elderly Black Woman As Depicted By A Sophomore Creative Writing Major.

The plot has thickened as both the Commonwealth prize committee and Granta have made laughably inadequate official statements. Most amusingly, Granta said they had been consulting AI to try to figure out whether the work was AI or not—a long and complex process, apparently.

But among the mockery, I’ve seen a few responses from readers who somehow didn’t pick up the artificial tells and were genuinely disappointed to hear about the scandal. They had connected emotionally with the piece. AI or not, it made them feel something. And once a piece of writing can do that, how much does it matter?

As the AI writing debate has evolved, I’ve heard this question more than once, as well as people asking how much it matters as long as a piece “conveys information effectively.” They don’t see a problem with liberal AI use in a variety of contexts, including non-fiction books or even sermons. Sometimes, this gets framed in strange class warfare terms, as if an amorphous elite “they” are painting AI as evil so that the proletariat can’t seize and advance with this new tech. But with increasingly more examples of “elite” writers shamelessly using it themselves, I’m unconvinced by this framing. The rot is setting in everywhere, Sam Altman’s assurances to the contrary. So now seems like a good moment to ask, “What is writing actually for?”