It’s not the song, it is the singin’
It’s the heaven of the human spirit ringin’

Hozier, Mavis Staples, Nina Cried Power

Today I wrote a short story. And it was such a delight, to see it come together, the words flowing from my brain through the pen onto the paper.

Then I thought, how strange it must feel for someone to use AI to “write” them a story or to paint a picture, taking away the whole creative process. The lows, sure, but also the highs, when everything fits and it all makes sense. (I know that it’s capitalism, the urge for “content” and to produce and bla bla, I know.)

They sometimes use this narrative that they can “finally create” what the always envisioned. But they did not create anything. They deprived themself of the process, the little Hero’s Journey to try, to fail, to try again and succeed. They really have nothing to show for in the end but a work of… art (?) that they did not create, but only claim.