When words have a heartbeat

On creative writing and AI.

It’s 10:18 pm. I’m sidled up in a corner of Lakeside Dining, tucked between two Bioengineering majors that I met this year. FINNEAS croons in my ears, singing songs I have been unable to shake for the past week and will probably forget about next week. One of the bioengineers is staring at the wood beams of the roof above. They look like ribs, he says, and I think I agree. A girl is crying over her laptop, her boyfriend rubbing her back; another chows down on buffalo tenders, rainbow braids cascading behind her. And I’m here writing, slowly, thoughtfully, each word struggling to escape but eventually finding its way home, onto this very Substack post.

Writing is about more than those final words—it’s a constant process, with no start or end in sight. It’s about observing the world and taking notes of what you see—and what you don’t. Writing is thinking and thinking and thinking until you can’t think anymore and the only thing you can do is write all of those thoughts down. It takes time and energy—except for those moments when it doesn’t, when the words flow without second thought while the rest of the world falls away. This art, at its core, is very human: you can feel the heartbeat behind the page.

This heartbeat is the very reason why I don’t think AI will ever take over creative writing. For a while, I thought it would: AI is efficient, precise. It’s an easy option, for readers and writers alike. But after reading articles, listening to experts, and conducting my own research, I’ve come to a different conclusion. AI may supplement the craft, perhaps by serving as a brainstorming partner or helping with proofreading. But the time, hours, emotions, sheer humanity that goes into creative writing is irreplaceable.

I’d like to think that you feel that humanity right now, reading this. Sure, some of my sentences could be shorter, and I probably don’t need as many em-dashes. But it’s my style, my voice, the way I come to the page. It’s my heartbeat.