Individual Voices in the Sea of AI

It’s easy to dismiss a wall of text at the first hint that it was generated by AI. I catch myself doing it, more often with a sense of proudness. Even when the information seems sound, I wonder whether the author has given any thought to the person who has to read it.

There’s something disrespectful about asking someone’s attention when you’ve put so little of your own into the work. A few words in a prompt, a copy and paste, and suddenly readers are expected to spend several minutes reading every word.

I used to look at a long piece of writing and assume that someone had spent hours thinking it through. That didn’t guarantee it would be good, but at least there was a sense of effort behind it. Now, length tells me very little about how much thought went into a piece.

So I find myself paying more attention to who wrote it, often with a quick check of their past posts to establish their ‘credential’. Such a quick glance shapes whether I’ll bother with a full read. If someone keeps publishing whatever comes out of their favourite AI chat, I stop reading.

But when I can follow someone’s thinking, I delightfully stay. The experiences they draw from, the details they choose, the things they’re still unsure about: these give me a reason to read. I want to know what this particular person has noticed and what they make of it.

I often feel I can recognise that voice, or sense when it’s missing. I could be wrong. Familiar phrasing can make human writing sound generated, and an AI can produce something that feels personal. Still, that impression influences what I choose to spend time with.

Maybe future models will make the distinction impossible to sense. I wonder what I’ll rely on then. Probably the same thing I’m coming back to now: a writer whose work has earned my attention over time.

For now, I still enjoy opening a piece and recognising the person behind it. I hope that pleasure lasts. I hope you recognise me in mine, too.