With all the talk about how AI is changing the way we live and work — and play and learn and just about every other human facet of our lives – I’ve come to a very personal conclusion: I will never again write a poem in this column space.
Why? Because there’s an awfully good chance you will think I used artificial intelligence to create the darn thing.
I got a small taste of how technology is infringing on my creative abilities when I found myself running behind schedule for my annual “Camp Chaos” weekend with the grandkids, and decided to ask ChatGPT to help pull together a campfire story that would fit into this year’s theme “Mystery, Murder and Mayhem.”
I’m not much of a cook so that’s kinda my thing. Whether a Christmas pageant, Easter hat parade, haunted basement tours or birthday trivia game, I get a kick out of authoring all these family productions that, while they may not ever be ready for Prime Time, seem to entertain the crew and get everyone out of the kitchen.
The mystery story that ChatGPT offered me – after a few of my requests to please jazz it up with more character formation and details – was not bad. It involved a kid that went missing from a camp’s mysterious Tent 6, which I figured would be good enough to convince my own campers we should all sleep on beds inside the house for this annual overnighter.
So I also asked AI for some assistance with another far more involved activity: a murder mystery scavenger hunt. My idea: someone slips a poison spider into an entry of a baking contest and all participants must figure out who the would-be assassin was.
Living up to its reputation for speed, the AI app quickly spit out a cast of usable but predictable characters – Pudding Penelope, Freddie Fudge, Melissa Muffin, etc. – and clues that were OK but about as exciting as watching bread rise.
That sent me on a quest to extract more imagination out of this digital helper, but it seemed the more I tried, the more frustrated I became at what I was being offered. And in the end, I put far more time into humanizing this game than had I avoided AI altogether.
Bottom line: AI is good for formulaic plot twists or character arcs – and for being super fast – but there’s little creativity and not nearly enough personality. That’s left up to the voice of a human – the grandma in this case – to put genuine into fantasy. And so, I came out of that little experiment feeling, if not a bit threatened, then at least still relevant.
Problem is, while AI is currently very good at compiling but not creating, it’s only going to get more sophisticated. Take my career as a journalist, for example. There’s going to come a time when AI will be able to do more than report school board agendas, weather, traffic and sports scores. And in fact, experts in my field insist that news outlets, which get a collective F for their response to the internet, know the industry needs to figure this out before robots replace journalists or before readers figure out they really don’t care if a story is human-reported or machine-generated.
But they also point out writing that comes from unique life stories will have a competitive edge because even though AI can outproduce you, “if your work is distinctive or deeply human, it will not be able to imitate you.” That’s because AI, which has “no beliefs, emotions or consciousness, can’t truly live anything.”
By the way, I got those last phrases from ChatGPT, which is also capable of taking a cold, hard look at itself, something that can be difficult for us humans.
Going back to the poetry, I decided to put ChatGPT to another test by asking it to give me some rhyming verses about the controversy over Mayor John Laesch’s budget conundrum that could mean far less city money to the esteemed Paramount Theatre.
Here’s an excerpt it came up with (in a fraction of the time it would have taken me to compile):
In Aurora’s proud city, a drama’s on stage; Not just at the Paramount but on the front page.
Mayor Laesch sharpened pencils, cut budgets with flair; And the theater folks cried “He’s slashing our air!”
You’ve got to admit that isn’t bad. And again, while I’d like to think I could have done better, it makes more sense to put my human skills to work on things that I know AI can’t remotely duplicate – for now. And so, I officially announce my retirement as a poetic columnist.
As for the personal stuff, I decided to go back to ChatGPT and ask whether I should continue to author those family productions or just turn it over to a chatbot.
In its annoyingly kind way, it informed me to keep at it, that my “imagination is the spark” that comes with the ideas most meaningful to my family, and to think of AI as my “backstage crew” that will help “polish” and “brainstorm,” but that I’m “still the director, producer and heart of the production.”
Thanks “virtual assistant,” for having my back. I just don’t quite trust you to someday put that proverbial knife in it.
Coming in the column next week: How local high schools and colleges are preparing students for the world AI is so quickly changing.
dcrosby@tribpub.com