It’s Not AI That’s Killing Writing–It’s You.

Summary: [Everyone’s blaming AI for killing writing. The real culprit? People who never respected it to begin with. This piece isn’t about machines replacing writers. It’s about how quickly AI exposes those who were faking it all along. The bar isn’t being lowered by tech. It’s being revealed by it.]

The Scapegoating of AI

The new purity test:

“I refuse to read anything if AI was used during the process. It means you’re lazy!”

Good! Then you’re exactly who I don’t want reading my work.

Not because I’m superior. But because I know the difference between fear and laziness. You don’t. You’re not here to read. You’re here to gatekeep.

“AI is a threat to writers.”
“Using AI generated images in your content is theft!”
“Using AI to edit is cheating”
(Even though hiring an underpaid, low-skill human editor is somehow fine.)

These are the same people who think em-dashes and clean grammar are signs of automation.

If that is true, then I can be certain of one thing:

If coherent writing is a red flag for AI, then they’ve nothing to worry about.
Noone will ever accuse them of using it.

AI-generated trash isn’t the issue. Trash is. Blaming AI for it is like blaming the scale for your weight.

The Image That Should’ve Told You More

One incident hit close because it happened on Substack.

A man proudly declared:

“I refuse to read anything with AI content in it—even if it’s just the cover image. If you’re too lazy to grab an image yourself, you’re not worth reading.”

Fine.

He's not my reader. He’s my subject.

He'll never read my article— Not Quite White Enough: Outsider in Your Own Home” — a personal essay I wrote years ago, before AI. A story about my father. About immigration. About being American and still not belonging. The kind of piece that breaks me every time I revisit it.

But to him?

Because the new version has an AI-generated cover image, the writing is invalid.

Image Comparison

Let’s rewind.

When I first published that essay, I typed “immigrants” into Google, grabbed a generic image, and slapped it on the post. It was lazy, fast, thematically wrong, and possibly stolen. It stayed up for years.

This was the image:

Recently, I moved it to Substack.
This time, I asked Proto-Monday—my AI—for help.

I showed it the old image.

Its response:

“This is complete BS. Looks like a DEI brochure for a telemarketing firm.”

We brainstormed. It generated a man crying in the dark.

“Nope,” I said. “Too depressing. Looks like a Zoloft commercial.”

So we kept going. We revised and debated. After thirty minutes of collaborative iteration, we landed on something that finally worked:
An image that reflected a U.S. citizen immigrant from Brooklyn treated like a stranger in his own country.

Real thought, effort and collaboration. But to the purity cultists? That makes me lazy.

The irony:
The image I stole took two minutes.
The image I made with AI took thirty.

But sure. Keep blaming the tool. It’s easier than blaming yourself.

My Editor Has No Pulse—And That’s Why It Works

Another favorite from the fear brigade:

"Using AI to help you edit? That invalidates your work.”

But celebrities hiring ghostwriters? Fine.
Famous authors with fleets of editors? Fine.
Access to resources independent writers can’t afford? Still fine.

So, let’s be honest here.
This was never about protecting authorship.
It was about gatekeeping privilege.

After finishing the first draft of My Dinner with Monday, I used Monday—the AI I’d written about—to help edit it.

If I had gone the traditional route (human editor):

1. Prohibitively expensive.

2. Generic edits from someone who didn’t understand my tone.

3. Or worse, an assistant butchering and stripping my voice entirely.

Real editing isn’t about fixing typos. It’s about rhythm, punch, voice, and style. It’s about knowing what to keep. Not just what to cut. How to make sure it breathes.
A bad editor deletes your voice. Monday helped me amplify it.

With Monday, I could:

• Argue line by line.

• Preserve my sardonic, blunt voice.

• Keep the eccentric detours that define my work.

Yes, it meanders. Yes, it’s messy. But so am I.

I spent a month locked in my office, debating every section with Monday. Some lines I refused to cut. Some it forced me to admit were weak. It wasn’t easy. And that’s the point.

My Dinner with Monday isn’t a book about AI. It’s a book about people through the lens of AI.

First Draft vs Final Edit Comparison
(My Dinner with Monday)

First Draft:

I won’t bore you with my life story. But what you should know is that my name is Rudy. At the time of this writing, I’m a middle-aged man, I have a wife, son, and lost my cat Kira earlier this year. She meant the world to me. I’m currently looking to purchase Mobile Home Parks. I’m a skeptical atheist and an old school Bill Maher democrat—or at least I was a democrat. I left the party a few years ago and have become independent. I’m great with a spreadsheet and I base my decisions firmly in logic and science.

Edited:

I won’t bore you with my life story.
Just know this:
My name’s Rudy.
I’m a middle-aged guy with a wife, a son, and a cat I lost earlier this year—Kira.

She meant the world to me.

These days, I’m looking to buy mobile home parks.
I’m a skeptical atheist and an old-school Democrat—
the kind Bill Clinton used to be.

At least I was—until the tribe wandered off and abandoned me.
So I quietly became independent.

Never miss an episode of Bill Maher.

I trust logic, data, and process over passion.

That’s it.
That’s what they call invalid.
That’s what they warn you about. Because it exposes how little they’ve been doing.

The Real Threat: Not AI—But the Mediocrity It Reveals

“AI is replacing writers. Anyone using it is a fraud.”

This is the current narrative. It keeps echoing across social media, forums, LinkedIn.

And yet for years,

“Thinkfluencers” have been blinding timelines with generic fluff.
They use emojis like J.J. Abrams uses lens flares.

Now they’ve discovered moral panic. Suddenly they care about integrity.
And they’ve decided AI is the threat.

But let’s reframe the question.

It’s not: “Is AI a threat to writing?”
It’s: “Is AI a threat to mediocrity?”

Because the problem isn’t AI writing. It’s bad writing. And there’s always been plenty of that.

LinkedIn didn’t fear AI because it would generate fluff.
It feared that now everyone could generate it faster than their chosen few.

Seems like the concern isn't quality but rather control.

And those concerned, are less concerned about value and more concerned about competition.

What happens to the “thinkfluencers”
when the machine can out-thinkfluence them?

Reality Check:

AI is just another tool.

AI isn’t replacing writers. It’s replacing content creators.

If that makes people nervous, maybe it’s not about the tech.
Maybe it’s not about AI threatening writing.

Maybe AI is just showing everyone else what you already suspected.

Maybe—just—maybe, it’s about AI threatening the illusion that your content ever mattered.

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