Not My Copilot

I have friends in my online writing group who are having fun playing with A.I (artificial intelligence) to help them streamline their writing. One writer in the group wanted to create a blog post about how writers are using A.I, and she asked ChatGPT to help her. Her conclusion? It didn’t have the “richness” of what she was going to write, but it gave her a good start, and she was then able to edit and improve her post. I think others on the forum have said that A.I has helped them speed up their writing process.

My computer updated recently and Microsoft added an A.I program to my toolbar, something called Microsoft Copilot. They say that Copilot “leverages the power of A.I to boost productivity, unlock creativity, and help you understand information better.”

I did not ask Microsoft to put Copilot on my computer at the last mandatory Windows update, those routine occurrences that take place when I’m not paying attention.

I did not even know what it was. It just appeared, an unwelcome addition to my previously uncluttered home screen. I had to spend about half an hour learning about it, and then had to spend more time figuring out how to get rid of it

(Although I do not think it is entirely gone. It is just hidden. I am not a fan of this.)

I did not want Microsoft Copilot on my home screen. I did not want it on my task bar. I did not want it on a boat. I did not want it with a goat. I did not want it. Period.

I guess I am different from my writing friends who are experimenting with A.I, because I have no interest in it. In fact, it scares me a little. Maybe this makes me a sort of Luddite. I looked up the definition of that word, to make sure I was using it correctly. It’s a person “opposed to new technology or ways of working.”

I don’t think that is exactly fair, though. I use plenty of technology, some of it new. I just am not sure about A.I, especially when it comes to asking A.I to write for me or help me with writing. It seems like so much could get lost in the process, both heart and soul. I’m also not sure what the benefit would be for me. Each of these blog posts takes time to write, but time I invest in the creative process is time that helps me. It can’t be rushed. When I get to the end of a blog piece or one of my Sunday letters, I’m happy. I’ve created. Something inside of me lights up. Whether or not the result is “good” is not the point. It’s the process that’s valuable. Hemmingway (or some other famous writer. Apparently, this quote has been attributed to numerous people) said, “There’s nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.”

A.I doesn’t have veins.

Sometimes, it even feels like what I’ve written has been a gift from Spirit, from a source that is greater than me, that is not me.

A.I does not have Spirit (and if it ever does? That would be something we should probably worry about.)

So I will continue to spend a few hours each week (sometimes more, sometimes less) preparing these blog posts and drafting my weekly letters. I do not need the process to go faster; I do not want it to go faster. Many things (most things?) that are worthwhile take time: cooking from scratch, tending a garden, waiting for fruit trees that you’ve planted to flourish, slowly eradicating the invasive blackberry bushes that climb up the hillside, building strength through morning pushups, growing a friendship, learning a language, watching a child grow, helping endangered species like sea turtles rebound. Even something as small as really seeing a flower. That takes time.

It’s time well spent. It’s something that I don’t want to let A.I take from me.