Hey Reader
Drowning Out the AI Fear
I kicked a hornet's nest last week.
I didn't mean to. I genuinely thought I was being helpful.
My writing group met, and I excitedly shared how I'd used Perplexity to research a literary magazine before submitting my short story to them.
Here's the thing, the lit mag didn't have any back issues available online, and I wasn't about to spend money on a publication I knew nothing about. So, I did what any resourceful writer would do: I asked Perplexity to analyze the magazine's aesthetic and tell me if my story could be a fit.
It worked. Perplexity flagged that the magazine prefers stories with tension and conflict. My story’s ending was too tidy. Too ribbon-on-a-package. I took this advice and went back and reworked it myself — no AI editing, no AI rewriting—just a sharper human draft, informed by smarter research.
I shared this with my group like I was handing out gold.
Blank stares. Crickets. Then — the barrage of opinions.
The founder of our group declared she was against using AI for writing, in any capacity, including research. Others piled on expressing their distrust of AI. Someone reminded us that most lit mags require writers to certify that no AI was used in the writing of submissions to their magazine.
The founder did acknowledge that I had not done anything unethical and that I'd used AI more like a beta reader. But she ended with: "There's so much gray area around using AI that I just stay away from it completely."
I sat there feeling like I'd confessed to a crime I didn't commit.
Since we're talking about cutting through the noise... this one is worth knowing about: Meet the Flyover.
Now back to what that writing group moment taught me...
The Question Nobody Asked
Here's what I couldn't stop thinking about after our Zoom meeting ended: How many of those writers use Grammarly before they submit their work anywhere? Or use Word's grammar check? Or a digital thesaurus? Isn't that AI, too?
Why is that acceptable, and what I did was flying too close to the sun?
I'm not asking to be snarky. I'm asking because I think the fear isn't really about AI. It's about something deeper. It's about identity. About what it means to be a "real" writer. About whether our creativity is truly ours and whether something outside of us can diminish it.
And those inquiries are not just about AI. Let me explain.
The Idea That Keeps Expanding in My Mind
Some of the greatest writers who ever lived described their work as channeled — as if the story arrived from somewhere beyond them. Inspiration flowing through them, rather than from them. Toni Morrison. Rainer Maria Rilke. Even the biblical writers. In fact, I’ve written about this concept of channeled writing before right here.
Physicists talk about a quantum field of shared consciousness — invisible, like Wi-Fi, but accessible. The idea that knowledge, inspiration, and creativity aren't locked inside individual minds, but available to anyone, or anything, that learns to tune in.
So, here's the question I couldn't shake:
What if humans and AI are tapping into the same field?
What if co-creation with AI isn't contamination — but collaboration? What if the organic and the inorganic can both access the same current of creativity, the same flow of inspired intelligence?
I don't have a definitive answer. But I think it's a question worth sitting with.
What AI Actually Is (And Isn't)
Here's what I know from my own experience: AI didn't write my story. It helped me see my story more clearly.
That's not a replacement. That's amplification.
Think about a musician and her instrument. The violin doesn't replace her creativity; it gives that creativity a new form of expression. The violin is just wood and a string. The music is hers.
AI is the instrument. You are the musician.
And here's the part the fearful crowd misses entirely: as AI becomes more capable, the rare, premium skill isn't intelligence. Its depth. Discernment. Embodied wisdom. The ability to write from a place of lived experience, emotional truth, and hard-won perspective.
AI cannot do that. It cannot write your story. It cannot hold the weight of your particular grief, or the specific texture of your joy. It cannot transmit what only you have lived.
That's not a gray area. That's a clear line — and it belongs to you.
A New Question Worth Asking
The writing world is having a fear response right now. I get it. Change feels like a threat when we don't know who we'll be on the other side of it.
But instead of asking "Will AI replace me?" — what if you asked: "How can I use this to become a sharper, more focused version of the writer I'm already called to be?"
That question leads somewhere. The first one just keeps you stuck.
I used AI as a research assistant and ended up with a stronger story — my story, in my voice, shaped by my creative decisions. The work was more mine, not less, because I went into it with clearer eyes.
That's not selling out. That's stewarding your craft well.
So, are you ready to stop letting fear drown out the possibilities?
I'd love to know where you land on this. Hit reply and tell me — are you using AI in your writing life? Or does it still feel like a line you're not ready to cross? No judgment here. Just a real conversation.
Until next time — keep writing, keep creating, keep moving toward what you're called to make. ✨
Walking this path alongside you,
Ana
P.S. I know you didn't ask, but… I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm using a proprietary app that helps me come up with the perfect AI prompt in less than 2 minutes.
It's called Revven — and not only does it give you great prompts, it also combines ChatGPT, Claude, Perplexity, Grok, Nano Banana, Veo 3.1, and other AI tools. Yes, you heard that correctly!
Want to Learn More About Revven?
If you want to learn more, reply to this email to get an invite code, or attend a FREE virtual summit by the founders:
AI for Business FREE Virtual 3-Day Summit: https://go.aiforbusiness.com/summit?_go=txhnn1
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