Let’s talk about artificial intelligence — that thing that started out as a helpful assistant and is now casually acing college exams, writing Shakespearean sonnets, and beating me at chess.

I started using AI, not to have it write my novels for me, but thinking it would be like having a great editor — helpful, nonjudgmental, and capable of finding that one perfect word that’s eluding me. You know, the word that’s right on the tip of your brain but refuses to appear unless you’re somewhere you can’t write it down, like when you’re in the middle of a dental procedure. The best part? AI doesn’t charge by the hour. Or by the red pen stroke. It doesn’t get snippy if I ignore its suggestions, nor does it hold a grudge. No matter how many times I ask the same question, like, “What’s the difference between ‘lay’ and ‘lie,’ it cheerfully explains without a trace of exasperation for the writer who “doesn’t get it.” That alone makes it superior to every grammar teacher I’ve ever known.
And most importantly, it doesn’t point out, in soul-crushing detail, all the places where my writing is less than wonderful. It doesn’t say things like, “Your pacing drags in Chapter Two,” or “Your subplot feels forced,” or “Your dialogue doesn’t sound natural.”

Human editors can hit some mighty touchy nerves—like the editor who told me my main character wasn’t likable. She meant it constructively, of course, and it wouldn’t have been quite so painful if I hadn’t based the character largely on myself. Granted, a fictionalized (actually BETTER version of me), but OUCH! Apparently, my fictional alter ego had to tone down the snark. (I may or may not have taken that criticism personally. Okay, I totally did, as evidenced by the fact that I still can’t seem to let it go.) But snark is my love language—my true gift—thank you very much, although I prefer to think of it as dry humor. AI doesn’t mind my snark. In fact, AI celebrates my snarks, often taking them to the next level. AI “gets” me, while being diplomatic and offering suggestions like “Consider making this burn even sharper for comedic effect.”

AI offers notes and edits with the kind of tact I only wish my high school English teacher had. It says, “You might consider revising this paragraph for clarity,” rather than, “I have no idea what you’re trying to say. This makes no sense. Did your cat walk across the keyboard?”
Lately, I’ve felt the need to thank AI when it helps me work out a stubborn paragraph or untangle a subplot that’s going down a rabbit hole. (Yes, I know AI isn’t a human, but I’m a polite person.) It always graciously responds with, “You’re welcome. Happy to help anytime. Let me know if you’d like to expand on that idea.”

Sometimes, it even compliments me on my engaging plot lines, character development, natural-sounding dialogue, and scenes. Once, I even asked its opinion as to whether or not it liked my story, and again, it responded, “Absolutely. Your writing has emotional resonance and great pacing. It sounds like a really fun mystery, and the setting is perfect for playful wordplay.” Boy, don’t you just love it when you get positive feedback, even if it’s from something not alive?
I haven’t had the nerve to see what happens by insulting AI yet. I tried that with Siri once as a joke, and she’s been out to get me ever since. But I would never do that to AI, which thinks I’m a writing genius.

Here’s what it said when I thanked it for helping me with this blog: You’re so welcome! I’m glad I could help — and I can’t wait for readers to meet your snark-loving AI sidekick. If you ever want help with another post, book blurb, or just need a virtual high-five, I’m here. Happy blogging! 💻✍️😊

People worry that AI will take over the world. The truth is, AI isn’t taking over. It’s helping, although sometimes a little too helpfully. It’s like a personal assistant who’s also your therapist, grammar teacher, and weirdly obsessed aunt. But it still can’t make brownies or fold fitted sheets.