It had to happen ... I knew it would.

For the last few weeks, I have kept my head down and worked solely on my new writing project. During that time, I have learnt that five of my published books have been used, technically stolen as no permissions were requested or given, in order to teach AI software how to refine their skills for writing English. There is very little I can do; a David v Goliath situation. 

I tend to structure my week by writing at home and then at various locations around my local area, for a change of scenery. Earlier this week, a total stranger decided to enquire what I was working on. His opening line was, ‘I see you typing loads - are you attempting to write a book?’ He’d seen me week after week attend the same place and do the same thing: writing.

I have no problem with being interrupted; many people are curious when they see me typing straight from my imagination, without a note book. I answered ‘yes, I’m writing another book’ instantly he said, ‘Have you thought about running it through ChatGPT?’ He didn’t like my answer when I refused to use it. He remarked ‘How come? Are you stuck in your old ways?’ – not a good line to use with an author. I had nothing to say in favour of using AI but he wouldn’t let it go. 

When I said ‘I was unique’ - his immediate response was ‘I love your confidence’. 

So I explained, imagine a world in which someone had told to Lennon and McCartney ‘hey fellas, don’t waste your time writing lyrics - a computer will guarantee you a hit record.’ Or if someone had told Elvis Presley ‘save your breath … a hologram or robot can dance and sing better than you’ or if someone had told Prince to put down his guitar as that particular riff can be played ten times better and a thousand times over. If Picasso had been told ‘throw away your brushes - a computer can out-paint you any day!’ What kind of world would I have been born into? Not one that I would wish to know or experience! Ironically, the guy admitted he’d choose a ‘real Picasso’ any day! I wanted to laugh out loud at his answer, but I didn't.

He had guts to keep pushing his view but soon said ‘what like you get up every day and write?’ … ‘Yep, I do.’ He then asked ‘where does it come from – what inspires you?’ Funny how suddenly his AI gods had been lost to curiosity. ‘It comes from my head and the heart – you’ve seen me in here week after week.’ He couldn’t refute that statement and quickly left - it was quite clear that I was done with our exchange, done with the subject but sadly, I don’t think the subject is done with me.​

---