I mention that to mention this recent article in The New Yorker by Hua Hsu, which touches on the theme of writing and artificial intelligence, and how it is changing the way students write — even suggesting they do not write, really, and bluntly make the case that it makes no sense for them to write at all.

It felt a bit binary. Or I should say, I felt the binary: either write, or use the AI to write and don’t even bother to feel any shame about that because shame is a waste of time almost as much as writing is a waste of time.

What’s in between?

I feel caught in between.

I grew up at a time when the idea of an artificially intelligent thing, or even the idea of a computer as a brain (remember “The Billion Dollar Brain”?) was both a sinister plot point and a Jetsonian vision of a carefree future. (Although George Jetson still went to work, and even carried a briefcase.)

I learned from that same dissertation advisor to think of writing as a craft. I never watched her write, but I could easily imagine her sitting at a keyboard of some description and workshopping one paragraph for hours — maybe even spending time on it with a trusted and gentle colleague.

But now we have AI that can produce more than passable writing. From Hua’s article, even surpassing a passing grade.

My inbetween is to be caught between a fascination with the technology and a wanting to imagine into a world with the AI is a collaborator and not a replacement for that craft. What are ways that AI can be another (and different kind of) trusted and collegial muse or generative collaborator?

That’s the motivation behind Ghostwriter and Vibewriter.

I wanted to indulge my fascination with the technology. I wanted to build something with a sense of curiosity and wonder, and wander into a different embodiment of AI’s future. Something that felt more like an intermediate tool that you needed to use while crafting what you are feeling and thinking, and not just a tool that you use to get something done.