Chapter 8. How I use AI to write: my dos and don'ts
In this chapter, I want to be transparent about my own use of AI. Throughout this article, you've likely picked up on my approach, but I'll be more direct here in case it helps you establish your own standards and rules of engagement with generative AI technology.
The reality is, I use AI in some capacity around almost every writing project, including this very article on AI writing (yes, I recognize the irony). But my use of AI has also evolved beyond asking a chatbot to brainstorm ideas, conduct research, or help me revise a passage. Increasingly, I use it as an ongoing thinking environment surrounding my writing and creative life.
That distinction matters to me. I don't want AI to replace the experiences, observations, expertise, imagination, and sometimes difficult thinking from which my writing emerges. I want it to help me examine those things more closely.
My role as visionary, writer, and storyteller
Before turning to AI, I generally already have something: an idea, an experience, a question, a problem, a passage I've written, or a project I'm trying to develop.
For fiction, I still do the imaginative work of developing characters, dialogue, scenes, and stories. For nonfiction, I draw from my own expertise, research, observations, and lived experience. AI can help me examine or develop that material, but I don't want it generating the substance of my creative life for me.
That foundation also makes me better able to judge what AI gives back. I reject suggestions. I redirect conversations. I notice when something doesn't sound like me. Sometimes an AI response helps me recognize an idea I hadn't fully articulated yet; other times, seeing the wrong answer clarifies what I actually think.
The goal isn't to make AI responsible for producing something good. It's to use my own knowledge of writing and my vision for the project to determine what good means in the first place.
AI as a thinking partner
I often have lengthy "conversations" with ChatGPT rather than using a single prompt to produce a finished result. I might bring in a passage I've written and ask where the logic breaks down, explore the advantages and disadvantages of two directions for a project, ask for questions that expose a blind spot, or test whether an idea holds up under scrutiny.
Sometimes I don't even want a solution. I want resistance.
I might ask: What's the strongest argument against this? What am I overlooking? Why might this story decision create another problem later? What questions should I ask myself before deciding?
Used this way, AI becomes less of a content generator and more of a place to externalize thought. The conversation gives me something to react to, challenge, develop, or reject. And those reactions often help me understand my own ideas better.
Creating a searchable record of my creative life
One of the most valuable developments in my AI practice has little to do with generating prose.
Over time, I've built up conversations about multiple creative projects, including fiction, nonfiction, websites, publishing, business ideas, and the experiences in my personal life that inevitably influence what I write. I can record an observation when it happens, return to an idea months later, continue developing a project across many conversations, or step back and look for larger themes and patterns.
In that sense, AI has begun to function somewhat like a journal or creative archive—but with capabilities a physical notebook or collection of documents doesn't have.
A traditional journal lets me look back and see what I wrote. An AI-supported archive can also help me interrogate the record. I can ask what themes have appeared repeatedly, how my thinking about something has changed, what ideas I've abandoned and returned to, or how developments in one part of my life might relate to a creative project somewhere else.
This is particularly interesting for personal writing. The subjects we write about don't exist separately from the lives we're living. Motherhood, marriage, ambition, money, faith, work, creativity, identity, and the passage of time can all shape what a writer notices and wants to say. Looking across a larger record of my own thoughts can sometimes reveal connections that would be difficult to see entry by entry.
AI doesn't determine what those experiences mean. But it can help me look across a larger body of my own material while I decide what meaning to make from it.
Managing multiple creative projects
I also use AI around the larger ecosystem in which my writing exists.
At any given time, I may be working on a novel while developing nonfiction, maintaining StoryBold, and building my sister sites: Eating With Babies and Babies After 40. Those projects have different audiences and purposes, but they're all part of my broader creative and professional life.
AI helps me move between those layers. I can explore publishing possibilities, think through website structure, develop an article, evaluate how projects relate to one another, revisit decisions I've made previously, or consider how my available time and larger life goals affect what I should work on next.
This doesn't mean I want AI running my creative life. Quite the opposite. Having a place where I can examine so many moving pieces together can help me make more intentional decisions about where my attention belongs.
Speeding up tedious tasks
There are also plenty of less philosophical reasons I use AI.
It can help me consolidate paragraphs, identify repetition, tighten sentences, organize notes, generate SEO possibilities, compare versions, summarize research, and perform other tasks that don't necessarily represent the part of writing I most want to spend my limited time doing.
When researching, I can use AI to locate and organize information or help me understand a complicated subject before returning to the original sources myself. These efficiencies can free up more time for the parts of writing I deliberately don't want to automate: imagining, reflecting, discovering, drafting, reading deeply, and making difficult creative decisions.
Efficiency is useful to me precisely because I don't believe every part of writing should be made efficient.
Boundaries I've set
For all of this extensive AI use, I still maintain boundaries:
- I don't want AI inventing my stories for me.
- I don't want to become dependent on it to generate prose from nothing.
- I don't want its fluency to convince me that something is insightful when it isn't.
- I don't want the availability of an instant answer to eliminate the periods of uncertainty, experimentation, and discovery that have always been part of my development as a writer.
I also distinguish between AI helping me think about my writing and AI doing the writing. Asking AI to analyze a scene I wrote, identify a gap in an argument, organize my own notes, or help me examine recurring themes across my work is different from asking it to generate a chapter and then editing the result until I'm willing to put my name on it.
Where that boundary belongs will differ from writer to writer. This is where I've chosen to put mine.
What I'm comfortable sharing with AI
Using AI as extensively as I do also means thinking about what information I'm willing to put into these systems.
I share passages of my own writing, ideas, creative plans, and personal reflections because the ability to work across that material provides real value to me. But I don't think writers should make that decision casually. AI companies have their own policies and settings governing how user data may be stored, processed, or used to improve their systems, and those policies can change [18].
Before uploading an unpublished manuscript, confidential material, someone else's private information, or anything else you would be uncomfortable sharing beyond its intended context, understand the privacy and data controls of the particular service you're using [4][18].
My own willingness to share my material with AI is ultimately a trade-off I've considered rather than a declaration that everyone else should make the same choice.
The larger principle behind my AI practice is simple: I want technology to expand my capacity to think about my work without outsourcing the part of me that creates it.
That's an evolving boundary. As the technology changes and as I change as a writer, I'll keep examining where I want that line to be.