Bad writing and the perils of family feedback
Plus, details of the next Creative Hour – note time change! – and other interesting bits and bobs.
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The In Writing Creative Hour returns on Sunday, but please note: this weekend, I have to do it in the morning (UK time) rather than the recent afternoon slot. Apologies to anyone who can’t make this one because of awkward time differences; I know one or two of you prefer the morning anyway, so I hope to see you there.
It’ll be at 10am UK time on Sunday 20 August – you can use this timezone converter to find out what time that is where you are (just put your location into the second set of boxes). Look out for an email earlier that day with a link to join the session.
If you have enjoyed previous Creative Hours, please do tell your friends about it or post about it on social media.
Until Sunday, here are a writing-related podcast, article and movie that have got me thinking over the last week.
Bad books
Thanks to a recommendation from my friend Sutanya Dacres, a podcaster and author herself, I’ve been listening to the podcast If Books Could Kill.
Each episode is a critical but funny revisiting of a mega-bestseller, usually in the areas of self-improvement, popular science or politics. As the hosts point out, many of the biggest non-fiction books of the last few decades have made bold claims (‘This is the ONE secret that changes everything’) based on dodgy research or simply one person’s opinion, and were never properly critiqued by the press because they weren’t taken seriously – despite selling millions of copies.
(I would particularly recommend the episode on 1995’s dating manual The Rules, which is an absolutely bonkers guide to manipulating a man into proposing marriage to you, by carefully concealing your personality. I think books like this have a lot to answer for in the current disastrous dating landscape, because many of us grew up being told that the worst possible thing you can do with a potential partner is to cultivate honesty and trust.)
What’s the takeaway for us in the In Writing community? Well, if you ever feel disheartened by the publishing industry’s response to your work, remember that the book world is a business, and not a yardstick for what is or isn’t worthwhile. Lots of awful books get deals and sell well. There’s sort of comfort in that.
AI horror stories
When I’ve talked to friends about the growing threat to our jobs that is artificial intelligence, they’ve often made a variation on the same reassuring joke. ‘Well, I asked ChatGPT to write [a thank-you letter/a wedding speech/my newsletter],’ they say, ‘and if that’s the best it can come up with, I think my job’s safe for a few more decades.’
Last week I came across this article, which ruined that theory for me forever. The piece, by Simon Rich, is called I'm a Screenwriter. These AI Jokes Give Me Nightmares. Here’s an extract:
When most people think about artificial intelligence, they think about ChatGPT. What they don’t know is that way more powerful AI programs already exist. My friend from OpenAI (hey Dan) has shown me some that are not available to the public and they have absolutely scared the hell out of me.
…
Dan showed me one that predates ChatGPT called code-davinci-002, and while its name does suck, its writing ability does not.
Taste is subjective, so you be the judge. Try to identify which of the following parody headlines were written by The Onion and which ones were generated by code-davinci-002:
"Experts Warn that War in Ukraine Could Become Even More Boring"
“Budget of New Batman Movie Swells to $200M as Director Insists on Using Real Batman”
“Story of Woman Who Rescues Shelter Dog With Severely Matted Fur Will Inspire You to Open a New Tab and Visit Another Website”
“Phil Spector's Lawyer: ‘My Client Is A Psychopath Who Probably Killed Lana Clarkson’”
“Rural Town Up in Arms Over Depiction in Summer Blockbuster 'Cowfuckers'”
The answer: they were all written by code-davinci-002.
I can’t speak for every writer in the WGA, particularly not the really good ones. But I’m not sure I personally could beat these jokes’ quality, and certainly not instantaneously, for free.
The article, which is worth reading in full, put me into a panicky cold sweat. I’m obviously in favour of strict regulation of AI, which sweeps and plagiarises the internet in order to do what humans are doing, only better and quicker.
My friend Karly, a lawyer who is an expert in privacy and data protection, pointed out to me that this is just the latest frontier in companies choosing cheap automation over human work. It’s a story that goes back to the loss of manufacturing jobs and the UK miners’ strike and beyond.
Is it a disaster if computer programs were to start doing most of our writing for us, and the paid job of writer were to disappear – or would it be reasonable progress? I don’t think many of us would want to bring back coal-mining jobs in the UK now, in light of how inhumane the work is and how damaging fossil fuels are. So obviously I’m not going to like it if writing work dries up, but is this a case of me being sensitive to change because it has a downside for me? I’ve definitely noticed that when I’ve discussed this with people who aren’t writers, I’m getting a shrug in response.
I think beyond my own job security though, I have another worry. Writing is so deeply tied up with critical thinking – it’s part of how we reason things out, how we question power and how we shape the culture. I’m not sure that’s something we should learn to outsource.
Anyway, the AI challenge is part of a bigger problem that’s threatening us in so many ways, from the squeeze on healthcare to the melting of the icecaps: the fact that the world is run by billionaires who don’t want to share. If anyone has a reassuring joke to make me feel better about that, let me know.
You Hurt My Feelings
If you asked AI to make a movie that Hattie Crisell would love, Julia Louis-Dreyfus would definitely be in it. It would be made in the style of writer-director Nicole Holofcener, and it would be funny and moving but in a sort of quiet way, with a plot about a writer struggling with low morale. And (crucially) it would be about 90 minutes long. Luckily, Holofcener did it herself, and it’s called You Hurt My Feelings (now streaming in the UK on Amazon Prime).
I unsurprisingly loved it. Inject that thoughtful middle-aged indie comedy straight into my veins.
The plot follows Beth, who is struggling to find a publisher for her first novel, following OK-ish sales of her memoir. She’s in a great and supportive marriage with Don (Tobias Menzies), until she overhears him telling a friend that he privately doesn’t think her new book is very good. She almost vomits. Who can blame her?
We probably all have at least one person in our lives who loves us a lot, but doesn’t really like or understand our work. But do we really want them to be honest about that?
The feedback I’ve had over the years from people close to me has run almost the full spectrum, short of ‘I hated it.’ I think those who have given me critical opinions would argue that it’s an indication of their respect for me and the work – they’re not going to fob me off with a white lie. There are also people in my family (hi Mum, love you) who I think will always say positive things about my writing even if it is terrible crap, and I’m grateful.
In general I turn to professionals (my editors and agent; occasionally writer friends) for critical feedback; from most other people I want validation and encouragement, which is emotionally needy of me, but there it is. There’s a great moment in the film when Don points out to Beth that there are bigger things to worry about than his opinion of her manuscript, and she replies, ‘I know the whole world is falling apart – of course I know that. But this is my world, my small, little narcissistic world, and you know, I’m hurt.’
I highly relate to work being your own small, little narcissistic world. It’s an unattractive attitude that most writers have in common. But I think you have to go very far inwards before you can throw something outwards and have it really engage other people, and I’m not sure there’s a way of doing that that doesn’t involve an unhealthy degree of self-absorption.
What about you? How honest do you want loved ones to be? Have you ever been upset by a partner or family member’s feedback, and how did you resolve it? Share your most horrifying experiences in the comments, and we can all make each other feel better.
That’s all for now. Hope to see some of you on Sunday – until then, good luck with your writing!
I’ll be honest. While the idea AI creating fiction scares me to death, I’d use it to create a 500 word synopsis of my 86,000 word novel in a heartbeat ! Now if only I could figure out how to input that request into Chat GPT.
For me, distilling my own words requires some analytical skill I just don’t possess. And it’s a skill, frankly, that seems absolutely foreign to the act of writing the book. Because ultimately chat gpt will always lack one of the most critical elements needed to write fiction. A heartbeat.
My 80yo aunt was a huge supporter of my writing... until I was published and she read my first novel. She was appalled by the sex and swearing and said “Alan Titchmarsh writes lovely novels and he doesn’t need any of that” which still makes me laugh.