Important points here. What if a basic programming rule of ChatGPT is to officially forbid the use of first person output? As an aside, I have been pondering my own problem of only feeling truly comfortable writing fiction in first person. 3rd person feels too artificial, more so now than ever. I soemtimes even feel uncomfortable reading other people's stories in 3rd person.
Well, you are writing in the first person here, DB :-) I often think such written conversation, one human to another, is the most genuine expression. I'd argue that what you're saying about the third-person POV extends to nonfiction writing as well — it feels more distant; it assumes an omniscient point of view without acknowledging that claiming omniscience *is* a point of view. With first-person nonfiction one of the greatest challenges is to not fictionalize the self, which is why it can feel so natural to write in that "autofiction" that emotionally hooks a writer (and reader) but often messes with reality in a way that masked what really triggered a series of actions. That's why I think teaching students to write from their own perspective is one way to to combat the creeping fictionalized selves that have become normalized with generative AI.
You know I agree with you, Richard, especially about all the digital plagiarizing going on in plain sight. The trouble is, AI systems themselves will automatically generate first-person responses in emails and other digital communication (that just happened to me when sharing flight info with a friend via the JetBlue app). Case by case, this may seem innocuous — and it's so seductive. But it doesn't feel that way if you're a writing instructor reading "responses" or "notes" from students in the first-person that were clearly generated by a bot. For practical (and ethical) reasons, I think we should be pushing for disclosure of all AI used for such first-person commentary or self-expression, something many people are still loathe to do. And why are they? It's a trend in a number of academic journals to ask for disclosure, and in the classroom, I think there's useful learning to be done when we talk about why somebody feels squirrelly about admitting they used AI to send an email, write a cover letter, text their mother they hope she feels better, etc.
Having AI write for you is almost unbelievable. For instance, here on Substack someone admitted using "stained glass windows in my mind" from an AI prompt. They were very impressed AI could provide them with that kind of image. But that's a line from a Taylor Swift song. Ouch.
Martha, you take my breath every time I read you. I nod enthusiastically as if you knew my most intimate thoughts. And here is the weird thing: I didn't even see you on a small computer screen with your personalized zoom background. All I have are your words. And they are as real as it gets!!
Oh, thank you, Imola. In many ways, the writing is me, of course, and I've spent decades honing that voice (that's the artful part). One silver lining to social media and online conversation is that it's often where I see students writing most authentically and naturally in their own "I" voices. But for formal writing assignments, they often shut down that voice; they don't think it's serious enough — at least at first. Finding your writing voice often comes down to being very messy in private, trying a lot of things, then testing the waters with others. That's exactly why current trends in the use of generative AI are so worrying to me. Faux conversations with bots are not the same as those you have with a fellow human. More than that, allowing a bot to generate work using the "I" voice is dishonest if you don't (at least) acknowledge that you've done so. Unfortunately, many people now use AI to generate personalized emails and texts — or the bots automatically put it into the first-person voice. For all sorts of ethical and educational reasons, I think we need to push back.
You’ve raised some provocative questions. I’ve been thinking recently about how, over time, that writers of both nonfiction and fiction have been moving toward a kind of internalization of the creative process, so that rather than writing as observers of the world around them they’re observing themselves as the center of their worlds. This is a broad generalization of course, but I can’t help thinking of great writers of nonfiction like Virginia Woolf and James Baldwin and how they examined their own lives to create an indelible sense, in Woolf’s case, of the lives of women, and in Baldwin’s, of Black people. I guess what I’m fumbling for here is the idea that universality might be endangered by autofiction and non-fiction where everything revolves around an “I.”
Interesting! And I agree that there's a big difference between connecting your personal experiences with more universal ones (Woolf, Baldwin, Didion) and narrowly observing yourself in action. Because I lean toward journalism, I always think personal nonfiction writers should be observing the world around them to make connections, not vice versa — and it is indeed why I'm not fond of autofiction as a label for personal storytelling that's "sort of" true but not really. Why not just call it fiction? In any case, you're bringing up a fascinating point about universality being endangered as both a writing goal and as an observational stance. It makes me think of how polarized digital media has become and the way too many people fail to question the sources of their information or the possibility that others might think differently. For me, acknowledging a diversity of opinion gets us closer to writing that reaches for universal points.
Important points here. What if a basic programming rule of ChatGPT is to officially forbid the use of first person output? As an aside, I have been pondering my own problem of only feeling truly comfortable writing fiction in first person. 3rd person feels too artificial, more so now than ever. I soemtimes even feel uncomfortable reading other people's stories in 3rd person.
Well, you are writing in the first person here, DB :-) I often think such written conversation, one human to another, is the most genuine expression. I'd argue that what you're saying about the third-person POV extends to nonfiction writing as well — it feels more distant; it assumes an omniscient point of view without acknowledging that claiming omniscience *is* a point of view. With first-person nonfiction one of the greatest challenges is to not fictionalize the self, which is why it can feel so natural to write in that "autofiction" that emotionally hooks a writer (and reader) but often messes with reality in a way that masked what really triggered a series of actions. That's why I think teaching students to write from their own perspective is one way to to combat the creeping fictionalized selves that have become normalized with generative AI.
AI doesn't create. It steals and combines, often whole phrases and sentences. The writer who copies from AI is guilty of plagiarism.
You know I agree with you, Richard, especially about all the digital plagiarizing going on in plain sight. The trouble is, AI systems themselves will automatically generate first-person responses in emails and other digital communication (that just happened to me when sharing flight info with a friend via the JetBlue app). Case by case, this may seem innocuous — and it's so seductive. But it doesn't feel that way if you're a writing instructor reading "responses" or "notes" from students in the first-person that were clearly generated by a bot. For practical (and ethical) reasons, I think we should be pushing for disclosure of all AI used for such first-person commentary or self-expression, something many people are still loathe to do. And why are they? It's a trend in a number of academic journals to ask for disclosure, and in the classroom, I think there's useful learning to be done when we talk about why somebody feels squirrelly about admitting they used AI to send an email, write a cover letter, text their mother they hope she feels better, etc.
Having AI write for you is almost unbelievable. For instance, here on Substack someone admitted using "stained glass windows in my mind" from an AI prompt. They were very impressed AI could provide them with that kind of image. But that's a line from a Taylor Swift song. Ouch.
Martha, you take my breath every time I read you. I nod enthusiastically as if you knew my most intimate thoughts. And here is the weird thing: I didn't even see you on a small computer screen with your personalized zoom background. All I have are your words. And they are as real as it gets!!
Oh, thank you, Imola. In many ways, the writing is me, of course, and I've spent decades honing that voice (that's the artful part). One silver lining to social media and online conversation is that it's often where I see students writing most authentically and naturally in their own "I" voices. But for formal writing assignments, they often shut down that voice; they don't think it's serious enough — at least at first. Finding your writing voice often comes down to being very messy in private, trying a lot of things, then testing the waters with others. That's exactly why current trends in the use of generative AI are so worrying to me. Faux conversations with bots are not the same as those you have with a fellow human. More than that, allowing a bot to generate work using the "I" voice is dishonest if you don't (at least) acknowledge that you've done so. Unfortunately, many people now use AI to generate personalized emails and texts — or the bots automatically put it into the first-person voice. For all sorts of ethical and educational reasons, I think we need to push back.
Yes, we do! I second everything you say here Martha. I admire you for your unique voice and human intelligence!
You’ve raised some provocative questions. I’ve been thinking recently about how, over time, that writers of both nonfiction and fiction have been moving toward a kind of internalization of the creative process, so that rather than writing as observers of the world around them they’re observing themselves as the center of their worlds. This is a broad generalization of course, but I can’t help thinking of great writers of nonfiction like Virginia Woolf and James Baldwin and how they examined their own lives to create an indelible sense, in Woolf’s case, of the lives of women, and in Baldwin’s, of Black people. I guess what I’m fumbling for here is the idea that universality might be endangered by autofiction and non-fiction where everything revolves around an “I.”
Interesting! And I agree that there's a big difference between connecting your personal experiences with more universal ones (Woolf, Baldwin, Didion) and narrowly observing yourself in action. Because I lean toward journalism, I always think personal nonfiction writers should be observing the world around them to make connections, not vice versa — and it is indeed why I'm not fond of autofiction as a label for personal storytelling that's "sort of" true but not really. Why not just call it fiction? In any case, you're bringing up a fascinating point about universality being endangered as both a writing goal and as an observational stance. It makes me think of how polarized digital media has become and the way too many people fail to question the sources of their information or the possibility that others might think differently. For me, acknowledging a diversity of opinion gets us closer to writing that reaches for universal points.