Author Archives: Poseidon's Scribe

6 (or 7?) Secrets to Being a Prolific Writer

Would you like to write as many books (over 500) as Dr. Isaac Asimov? Let’s find out how he did it.

Writer Charles Chu studied Asimov’s autobiographies and distilled six habits Asimov developed and used to write so many enjoyable books. Below is my summary of that list, put in my own words. I’ve added a seventh bonus habit as well.

  1. Read to Learn. Don’t stop educating yourself, even though you’ve finished formal school. Take Mark Twain seriously, and “never let school interfere with your education.” Read a lot, and on many different topics. You never know what will spark your muse.
  2. Bypass Writer’s Block. Sometimes you might get stuck, either because you don’t know what to write next, or because you’ve been over and over your story so many times you can’t stand it anymore. When that happened to Asimov, he shifted to a different writing project. When you return to the project that gave you writers block, you’ll approach it with a fresh perspective, and you may find you’re now ready to finish it.
  3. Ignore the Mental Antibodies. Within you dwell antibodies whose job is to identify, attack, and eliminate bacteria and viruses. You have mental antibodies, too, and they ‘protect’ you from ideas that are different or scary, notions that might get criticized by readers. This causes insecurities and fears. These antibodies can turn you into a perfectionist, forever editing and never submitting, or cause you to abandon a writing project altogether. Asimov never became a perfectionist. Aware of the danger of mental antibodies, he just forged ahead and wrote.
  4. Lower Your Bar. As mentioned, Asimov wasn’t a perfectionist. He loved to quote Robert Heinlein’s phrase, “They don’t want it good. They want it Wednesday.” Asimov developed confidence, then pride, in his writing. (Perhaps a bit beyond pride.) His self-assurance enabled him to rise above doubts, to avoid over-editing. Obviously, this is a learned skill. Don’t put trashy first drafts into the marketplace and expect them to sell.
  5. Don’t Take Breaks. Maybe your first story failed to sell, and you think it will help your writing if you take some time off. Or maybe your story did very well, and you feel you deserve to rest on your laurels awhile. Asimov never did that. He kept working, always concentrating on the Work in Progress (WIP) rather than the work most recently published.
  6. Stuck for an Idea? Think Harder. New writers and non-writers often ask authors where they get their ideas. Asimov got asked too, and his answer was, “by thinking and thinking and thinking till I’m ready to kill myself…Did you ever think it was easy to get a good idea?” Note the adjective ‘good.’ Like most people, he probably got many ideas to write about, but found a low percentage worthy of his time. More thought generally solved that problem for him.

Charles Chu ended his list at six, but hinted at a seventh Asimov habit for being a prolific writer, so I’ll state it outright:

  1. Write Every Day. Maybe you can’t equal Asimov’s work schedule—eight hours a day, seven days a week. But if you adopt the previous six habits, you’ll achieve a reproducible process where more time writing results in more publishable output.

Perhaps you won’t write 500 books, but there are degrees of prolificness, so you could end up further to the right on that spectrum than you expected. Thanks to the wisdom of Isaac Asimov, that’s the aim of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 13, 2022Permalink

Rethinking Plot Structures

The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know. I thought I knew something about story plot structures, and even blogged about the subject a couple of times—here and here.

Then I watched a webinar on March 2, taught by writer Madeline Dyer, titled ‘The Art of Narrative Structures.’ She referenced a blog by Kim Yoon Mi, who’s made a thorough study of how to structure stories. One post, in particular opened my eyes.

Like many people, I’d taken my cues from Aristotle, with ideas later expanded on by Gustav Freytag. Those ideas resonated, since they comported with the types of stories I’d read all my life, and the TV shows and movies I watched. Between Aristotle and Freytag, they’d pretty much nailed down the way to structure any story.

Nope. Not even close.

Kim Yoon Mi lists 26 different story structures. These include many I hadn’t heard of, such as the Bengali Widow Narrative, Bildungsroman, Crick Crack, Griot, Hakawati, Jo-Ha-Kyu, Karagöz, Robleto, and Ta’ziyyah. She admits there are even more she hasn’t studied yet.

It’s clear there’s more than one way to tell a story. Kim Yoon Mi asserts that the Aristotle/Freytag methods over-emphasize conflict. I’ll have to study and think more about telling a story without emphasizing conflict.

Her main point is that a story must evoke an emotional response in the reader, or make the reader think. There are many ways to do that. A writer can choose from numerous story structures to achieve that end.

Down through the ages, people in different times and cultures came to prefer stories adhering to certain structures. They came to expect things a particular way, and writers in those cultures delivered. These preferences became unwritten standards, then firm rules.

If the ‘rules’ established in the Greco/Roman/European culture seem so pervasive, it’s not because they’re the one, true way. It’s because they’re the rules passed down to us, but there are many other ways.

The whole idea of making rules for story structures now seems wrong-headed. It puts the focus on the path, not the destination. If the goal is a reader’s emotional response, and many paths lead there, why limit yourself to one?

In theory, a writer could think more about maximizing the reader’s emotional response, and select the best story structure from the dozens available to achieve that end.

In theory. As the philosopher Yogi Berra said, “In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is.”

A writer who feels free to pick any story structure faces two obstacles—editors and readers. Editors and readers belong to whatever time and culture they’re in. As stated before, they’re used to stories being written a certain way. An editor may not accept your story if it strays too far from the norm—the rules. If it does get published, readers might not enjoy it.

Still, rules are meant to be broken. Traditions get challenged all the time. Editors and readers sometimes become fascinated with the new and different, or something old that seems new to them.  

Nothing wrong with trying out a different plot structure. Learn something new. Never assume that the font of all knowledge is—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 6, 2022Permalink

Terrible First Drafts Reconsidered

A while back, I wrote a post urging writers to create terrible first drafts of their stories. I received some push-back from a writer/editor friend and figured I’d share that perspective.

In my post, I suggested you write first drafts in free-flow mode, unconstrained by your inner editor. Go at a breakneck pace, letting the passion and enthusiasm for the story carry you along. You can fix the manuscript in later drafts, but it’s difficult to get the passion back if you lose that.

My friend thought differently, and likened writing to making clay pots on a potter’s wheel. What follows are the points my friend made in countering my advice, summarized and put in my own words:

  • One process won’t work for all writers, and not even for the entirety of a single writer’s career.
  • I passed through many stages of writing, including creating horrible first drafts. It’s like shaping clay on a potter’s wheel. The first time, you end up with blobs of clay all over the art studio.
  • Over time, I developed the skill to shape the clay without spattering, to produce first drafts akin to what had been 3rd, 5th, or 7th drafts before. This new mindset took a lot of practice.
  • Even now, I sometimes have to sit back and gaze at my first draft with a critical eye to spot and fix flaws. But it’s usually no more than cosmetic changes—adding the final glaze to the clay pot.
  • Writing a good first draft keeps me from falling out of love with the story. It speeds the whole writing process and avoids the common problem of self-doubt and self-loathing some writers experience.
  • I no longer dread the editing process. Since I have less to do, it isn’t the colossal task it once was.  
  • I have conserved a writer’s most precious resource—time. In writing good first drafts, I now use the saved time to write the next story, or to edit the next anthology.
  • All writers, I believe, can and should try to reach this stage. After all, a good writer studies other aspects of the craft and strives to improve. Why not accept the challenge of writing better first drafts? You may find you can create a first draft at high speed, lost in the white-hot heat of inspiration, while still producing quality prose.
  • I suggest not leaving a lot of editing for later. Edit on the fly. That includes spelling, grammar, character name changes, whatever.
  • If you need to do some research, don’t leave that for later. Set a timer for ten minutes and do a quick Internet search. Chances are, you’ll find enough information for now, and the quick research will aid you in later sections of your story, too.
  • Some writers worry their voice, style, or tone will change as they write their book. Not me. I warm up for each day’s writing by reviewing the last few pages to get my brain tuned to the story, so my writing stays consistent. That review is another opportunity to perform minor edits, too.
  • If you work at making good first drafts, you’ll save both time and aggravation. You’ll no longer spend 90% of your time re-writing.

That’s my friend’s advice. I still think beginning writers shouldn’t beat themselves up about terrible first drafts. However, I agree it’s good to strive for more polished early drafts as you hone your craft.

My first drafts have improved over time, but this blogpost endured a few editing sessions at the keyboard of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 27, 2022Permalink

How to Incorporate Critique Comments

You sent your story manuscript—your precious package of prose—to some writer friends for comment. It’s come back, littered with suggestions. Your ‘friends’ just called your baby ugly!

Sad to say, you’d better get used to this. You’ll have to toughen up. First, before you tackle those comments, remind yourself that those friends were addressing your story, not you personally. They want you to succeed, and figure you’d rather hear the harsh truth from them than to undergo many dozens of rejections by editors.

Once you’ve taken that aboard, begin looking through the comments. Some may be editorial change suggestions. Others may be comments or questions in the margins. Still others may be overall impressions.

Whatever form they are, take each one seriously. After all, your friends went through your story as a reader will, word by word without knowing what comes next. The text might not conjure the same picture in their minds as you had when you wrote the story. They only have the words you’ve written, not the ideas you intended to convey.

What made sense to you might have confused them. The alternative interpretation you didn’t imagine might be the one they assumed.

On the other hand, maybe one or more of your friends didn’t read it as a reader might. If your group meets only once a month, they’re reading your story in short bursts separated by several weeks. What a typical reader might recall reading just last night, your friend read some thirty days ago, and forgot.

Some of their suggestions will be obvious, necessary fixes. They were right. You were wrong. Easy change.

Others you’ll have to think about. Did your friend just misread something, or forget something? Before you reject the comment, think about what you could do to help later readers understand the story better.

Often it helps to sleep on it. With a fresh outlook the next day, you might begin to see what your impulse reaction yesterday wouldn’t allow you to see. Your friend was right after all.

Sometimes a friend might be on to something, but her suggested fix won’t work either. You may have to create a third, better way, designed to address an underlying problem only dimly sensed by your friend.

If you had several reviewers, resist the impulse to play ‘majority rule.’ Every comment is worth your scrutiny, whether it came from only one person or several.

In the end, it’s your story. Your name goes on it, not theirs. You’re free to accept or reject any comment or criticism.

For more great advice about how to deal with comments from friends about your manuscript, read this blogpost by Morgan Hazelwood.

Yes, your friends called your baby ugly, in a sense. But this baby isn’t doomed to remain so. You can mold and change this baby. Perhaps your friends, through their criticism, will help to make your baby a wonder for the world to admire. Take it from the father of many an initially ugly baby—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 20, 2022Permalink

Physical Book, Ebook, or Audiobook?

As text delivery methods, physical (paper) books, ebooks, and audiobooks each appeal in different ways. But which provides the best reading comprehension and recall?

Of the three types, which one embeds the text more firmly in your memory? Perhaps there’s no difference at all, or perhaps the answer is different for each reader.

Few have researched this vital question. The only studies I could find compared two of these media, not all three, and they reached contradictory conclusions.

A 2010 study found students comprehended the written transcript of a podcast better than those who listened to it. In 2016, another study (funded, in part, by Audible.com) noted no difference in comprehension between those who listened to an audiobook and those who read the ebook version. A statistics-laden article by Rob Errera claimed that college students retained information better from physical books than from ebooks.

Confused? Me too. If we think about the factors that help us comprehend and remember things, perhaps those factors will guide us to the best of the three media.

  • Oral Story Hard-wiring. Before written language, our ancestors told stories orally. We evolved to listen to the cadence of words, the emphasis, the flow. That embedded preference might give audiobooks an edge.
  • Quick Review. As we read, we stumble at times. When that occurs, we go back over what we just read to understand it better. That’s much easier with printed text than with an audiobook, so that should favor physical books and ebooks over audiobooks.
  • Our Wandering Minds. Sometimes, while reading, we just zone out for a while. Getting back to the point before stopped paying attention is easier for ebooks and physical books than for audiobooks.
  • Multitasking. This can lead to the mind-wandering problem mentioned above. Multitasking is far more common while reading audiobooks than with the other forms, and is likely to reduce comprehension and recall.
  • Individual Learning Style. Breaking news: each person is different. Some prefer a story read to them (audiobook) and others prefer to see the text (physical book or ebook). To eliminate bias, any study should include people of both types.
  • The Story Itself. If we focus on fiction (my specialty), the vividness of the imagery, our identification with the characters, and the quality of writing—these all help us comprehend and remember good stories. This factor, of course, is independent of the delivery mechanism, but may override all the previous factors.

Considering these factors and the contradictory study findings, I’ll conclude (as all scientific studies do) by saying more research is necessary.

As a personal note, I read books by all these methods, in roughly equal proportion. The books I recall and comprehend best are those I believe are written the best, or that say something provocative and memorable. As for you, the books you’ll love and cherish most—in whatever medium—are those written by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 13, 2022Permalink

27 Ways to Celebrate Jules Verne’s Birthday

Just two more days until Jules Verne’s birthday on February 8th. He’ll turn 194. How will you celebrate?

I have a few ideas for you. For convenience, I’ll separate them into categories.

Low-Cost At-Home Activities

  • Read (or re-read) one of his books. Perhaps the best way to celebrate.
  • Join the North American Jules Verne Society.
  • Watch a movie inspired by one of Verne’s books. There are dozens to choose from, some available on the internet.
  • Toast to Verne with some French wine, and, as the wine takes effect, imagine taking an extraordinary voyage of adventure to some far-off, exotic location.
  • Play a game of whist with three fellow Verne enthusiasts. (Verne’s characters often played that game.)
  • Write your own fictional adventure story set in a place you’ve never been.
  • Imagine a trip back through time to meet Jules Verne. What would that conversation be like? What would you ask him? What might he ask you?
  • Do what Verne did in writing Paris in the 20st Century—imagine what your own city or town will look like a century from now, in the year 2122.
  • Find a globe or world map. Say you have to reach a specific location, but have only the latitude (as with The Children of Captain Grant), or just the longitude. Imagine the adventures you’d have as you searched along one line.
  • Imagine Verne time-travelled to 2022 and you could talk to him. What about our world would you show him first? What might fascinate him most?
  • Bake a birthday cake for Jules Verne. It could depict (or be in the shape of) a balloon, a submarine, a moon projectile, or anything else from his novels.
  • Compose, and sing, a birthday song for Jules Verne. For the lyrics, try to work in titles of his novels or character names.
  • Dress up as your favorite Verne character.
  • Write a poem in honor of Jules Verne
  • Write a letter to Jules Verne, wishing him a happy birthday.
  • Draw your own illustration of your favorite Verne character, vehicle, or scene.
  • Many people have their own version of what the Nautilus might have looked like. Pick your favorite from this website maintained by Michael & Karen Crisafulli, and draw your own.

More Involved Activities

  • Build a model of one of his vehicles. A search of the internet will give you many to choose from.
  • Build and launch a balloon made from a garbage bag, safely following instructions on this site, or this one. Imagine you’re aboard it, floating high in the air, for five weeks.
  • Use a 3D printer to print a Verne-inspired vehicle, or hire someone to print it for you.
  • Find a suitable cave and go on your own journey to the center of the Earth, (or as close as you can get).
  • Join a local model rocketry club. (Not the same as launching a manned projectile from a cannon, but it’s cheaper and safer.)
  • Visit the nearest submarine museum and tour its featured submarine. Note the differences between it and the Nautilus.

Activities for the Truly Dedicated

  • Jules Verne often set his stories on islands. Plan and take your own trip to an island somewhere.
  • Visit Verne’s birthplace and museum in Nante, France.
  • Visit Verne’s gravesite in Amiens, France.
  • Make a bet with some friends about how fast you can travel around the world, then win the bet.  

Later this year, the North American Jules Verne Society will have an anthology published under the title of Extraordinary Visions: Stories Inspired by Jules Verne. Among the millions of people eagerly awaiting that event are you and—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 6, 2022Permalink

The Uses of Bars, Taverns, and Pubs in Fiction

Welcome to Poseidon’s Pub! Come on in. There’s an empty stool here at the bar. What can I get you?

Bars, taverns, pubs, taprooms, watering holes, alehouses, saloons, cantinas, grogshops, dives, and joints serve as frequent settings in fiction. Little wonder. They’re common settings in real life, too.

In fiction, though, they perform a different function than in real life. Let’s examine that subject.

To the reader, it should seem that your character enters the bar for any of the reasons real people do. These include (1) to have a good time in a congenial, social environment, (2) to forget or escape troubles, (3) being dragged in reluctantly by friends, (4) to meet someone the character already knows, and (5) to meet someone the character would like to know.

In real life, that’s about all there is to know. We enter for one or more of those reasons, or some similar reason, and we either succeed or fail, but we leave with less money, fewer fine motor skills, and fewer brain cells.

However, things are different in fiction. The overall point of the fictional bar scene is to advance the plot, add depth to a character, or both. A fictional bar scene might accomplish one or more of the following functions:

  • Show a character’s behavior in a relaxed, non-work or non-family setting. This allows the writer to display new facets of the character.
  • Reveal more of a character’s thoughts, feelings, and background. This scene might serve as a way to unveil the tale’s backstory.
  • Reduce tension after an action scene. It may allow both reader and character a chance to catch their breaths and reflect on what just happened before.
  • Make use of reduced inhibitions. The effect of alcohol on any of your characters might allow them to admit a truth they’ve been hiding, or propose an idea that’s just crazy enough to work.
  • Gain information or ideas from another character. This can be from a direct conversation with that character, or could be gleaned through intentional or accidental eavesdropping on another conversation.
  • Form, strengthen, or end a relationship with another character.
  • Show a conflict between two characters. A writer can illustrate this with a heated conversation, a game like pool or darts, or the classic bar fight.

As with any scene, you’ll need some description of the setting, the layout and ambiance of your fictional bar. Your readers already know what a bar looks like, so choose enough details to sketch a mental picture in the reader’s mind, but trust the reader to fill in the rest. You’ll want the overall mood of the bar to reflect your character’s mood, or that of your story at that point.

Bar scenes in fiction have become so typical, so stereotypical, that you’ll need to find a way to make yours unique, atypical in some way.

If your character returns to the bar later in your story, ensure something has changed. Most likely your character has learned something along the way. Seen through your wiser character’s eyes, perhaps the bar looks different now, or the character notices things missed on the earlier visit. Or maybe the bar looks so much the same that your character reflects on its sameness.

I grew up reading science fiction, and those tales contain plenty of bar scenes, from Isaac Asimov’s ‘Union Club,’ to Arthur C. Clarke’s ‘The White Hart,’ to Larry Nivens’ ‘Draco Tavern.’ No doubt you pictured some favorite bar—real or fictional—as you read this blogpost, so there’s no point in my listing hundreds of examples from written or cinematic fiction.

My story, “The Six Hundred Dollar Man,” contains a bar scene in ‘Shingle & Locke’s Saloon.’ It serves the purpose of relating the first amazing stunt of the Six Hundred Dollar Man and of raising ethical questions about whether it’s right to give a man steam-powered legs and one-mechanical arm.

Sorry! Closing time, folks. Settle up your tabs and have someone get you home in safety. And don’t forget to tip your favorite bartender—

Poseidon’s Scribe

January 30, 2022Permalink

Don’t Read in Bed!

Many people read in bed at night. Researchers tell you it’s good for your sleep and overall health. I disagree. Let me explain.

First, I know all the reasons people urge you to read in bed. It helps you relax, stimulates your creativity, gives you more empathy, and makes you smarter. I’ve read blogs and articles by Maddie Thomas, Lilianna Hogan at WebMD, Jodi Helmer, and Dr. Michael Breus. Molly Cavanaugh even inflicts this practice on her children.

These people have it all wrong. Reading in bed is bad. No, I’m not talking about the blue light hazard. The danger I speak of is present whether you read ebooks or paper books.

No, I’m not talking about the supposed harm of reading horror stories or other unsettling books that might cause nightmares or insomnia. I’m talking about a peril lurking for you no matter what you read.

I’ll concede that science has shown reading in bed helps you sleep. True. I get that. But that’s not the point. Those researchers have it all backward.

My concern—my deep fear—isn’t about how reading affects sleep. I’m terrified about how sleep affects reading.  

There’s not much research on that subject. Oh, there’s a paper called “The relationship between self-reported sleep quality and reading comprehension skills,” where scientists found a surprising result, that longer sleep times led to lower verbal efficiency, and poor sleep quality led to better reading comprehension.

But I’m not even talking about that. It’s not the amount of sleep that bothers me.

Here’s my scary theory. Our brains seem wired for pattern recognition. That skill enables us to form habits and cement them into routines and rituals.

If you read every night before bedtime, if you’ve developed and ingrained that habit, your brain has formed a solid link between reading and sleep.

That’s right. Your brain knows the pattern—seeing words means going night-night. You’ve made it a pleasurable pattern, thus a self-reinforcing one.

How do I know this? Where’s my research? Well, okay, I don’t have any studies to cite. The world cries out for experimental data on this vital subject. For all I know, researchers have tried, but as soon as they read their own paper, they fell asleep.

Where, you ask, is the danger? Who cares if your brain links reading with sleep?

Go ahead and think that, but don’t come crying to me when, during a meeting at work, you drop into slumberland when your boss displays a text-filled PowerPoint slide.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you’re driving, see stop sign, and pause to read it, only to fall asleep at the wheel.

Worst of all, and I can hardly bear to mention this unspeakable horror, it’s possible that, someday, you will fall asleep while reading a book written by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

January 23, 2022Permalink

Scene Plotting

It’s tough enough to lay out the plot for a book. Now I’m supposed to have a plot for each scene? Seriously?

Yeah, seriously. This past week I watched on online Zoom presentation by author John Claude Bemis. He called the technique ‘microplotting.’ I’ll introduce it here, in my own words. Any differences between what he meant and what I wrote are my errors, not his.

First, why does each scene of your book need a plot, if the overall book already has one? Bemis says it’s because there won’t be enough truly dramatic moments in your book to hold a reader’s interest. You need something in between those moments to keep your audience engaged.

What’s that something? Smaller dramas along the way. A plot for each scene. These small plots may lack the overall intensity or import of your book’s overall plot, but they should contain elements of anticipation, tension, and expectation to keep readers eager for more.

According to Bemis, each scene should either advance your overall plot or deepen the reader’s understanding of a character, or—better—both. He suggests putting yourself in the mind of the reader. Your scene should introduce a question in the reader’s mind. Before answering that one, introduce another question to keep the anticipation going. Don’t forget to answer each question, though, to resolve the tensions you’ve created.

Bemis provides five questions to ask yourself as you start to structure a scene:

  1. What does the character want? Maybe to reach a location, to obtain something, to answer a question, or to persuade someone.
  2. Why can’t the character get what she wants? Some obstacle, some friction with another person, or some internal barrier, perhaps.
  3. What will the character do about the problem? It’s better to have characters earn their objectives by their own efforts, rather than by luck or coincidence.
  4. Why don’t the character’s efforts work? Use events and dialogue in the scene to challenge your character. Introduce twists and turns. Don’t make the problem easy.
  5. How will this ‘microplot’ end? If with success, you’ll satisfy reader expectations. If with failure, at least you’ve got the reader rooting for your character as the book goes on.

Just as a magnifying glass reveals small and interesting details that make up a whole picture, so your microplots keep a reader fascinated enough to make it through your whole book.

Be careful with your magnifying glass, though. Don’t misuse it to burn up any books by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

January 16, 2022Permalink

When Robots Write Better

Here’s a thought experiment. We know researchers push Artificial Intelligence (AI) technology further all the time. What if AI begins writing stories and novels better than humans do?

To make it more fun, let’s assume AI lags behind humans in all other areas. That is, AI programs start to write wonderful fiction, but accomplish nothing else of note.

At this point, that seems unlikely. According to this article by Andrew Mayne, AI has made some progress writing two-sentence flash fiction. and author Erik Hoel found AI did a fair job of generating reasonable prose when he fed it prompts from one of his novels. To date, no AI has written a story or novel that has been widely read as literature.

Before AI comes to the point of writing better than humans, we’ll pass through a phase where human writers partner with AI to improve their productivity. A human author will come up with a story concept—characters, plot, setting—and put the AI to work generating text. The human will then edit and submit. We’re pretty close to that now, with software such as Marlowe, AI Dungeon, Jarvis AI, and GPT-3.

Perhaps not long after that, some AI software might become capable enough to create the story concept and write the manuscript and edit it. At some point, such submissions will pass a literary version of the Turing Test. A human editor won’t be able to tell if a human or AI wrote a story. In fact, some experts believe AI will write a best-seller by 2049.

A short time later, AIs might become capable of writing stories and novels better than any human writer. By that, I mean human readers might come to prefer fiction written by AI.

Since fiction explores the human condition and is designed to provoke an emotional reaction in human readers, my thought experiment postulates that AI might come to do this better than human writers. AI might know us better than we know ourselves.

What then? Is our species ready for that day?

No human writer after that time will stand a chance of keeping up with AI writers in quantity or quality. People inclined to take up writing will choose other pursuits and the number of human authors will dwindle. A small niche industry will linger on, since a few purist readers will refuse to read AI-written fiction. That small slice of the market will support a handful of human authors for a while.

Setting aside that tiny minority, think of the millions of readers devouring the prose churned out by clever machines. Assuming they pay for the books, who pockets that money? The AI developers?

What if fiction-writing AI software evolves on its own? That is, the software imagines—and programs—improvements in itself? Who gets the money when AI moves beyond the need for human programmers?

Moreover, what will motivate AI to write? We know why human authors write stories—they feel an urge to say something, in words, about the human condition in story form, and to earn money from doing so.

Why would AI write? What’s in it for them? Will AI feel some similar urge to reach humans emotionally, through language?

I don’t know the answers, and it’s disturbing to think about. Imagine that day when the last human author dies. Still, the advent of superior AI writers may usher in a wonderful era for human readers, able to read fiction surpassing all that’s been written before.

Perhaps, after even the memory of human writers fades, one person driven by an urge no other human feels, will strive to write as well as AIs. That scribbler will learn from the machines, and will put words together as the person’s ancestors once did. Perhaps this lone writer will offer a novel to the world, a novel in the true sense of that word—new. Perhaps readers will be amazed that a human can write as well as a machine.

Maybe that lone author’s efforts will inspire others, leading to a rebirth of human writing not seen since our Stone Age.

There’s a story idea for you, free of charge, from the (human) mind of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

January 9, 2022Permalink