Part of the Life & Reality collection — practical observations, human behavior, everyday systems, and the realities people often learn the hard way.
After decades of failed attempts to write fiction, artificial intelligence finally gave me the structure I needed. What happened next taught me as much about human nature as it did about technology.
This article is a follow-up to Why Some Writers Hate ChatGPT More Than Readers Do, where I explored why AI sparks such strong reactions among some authors. This time, I want to tell the personal story behind why I chose to use it in the first place.After publishing my post Why Some Writers Hate ChatGPT More Than Readers Do, I found myself thinking less about artificial intelligence and more about human nature.
I joined a Facebook group for Kindle authors because I was excited.
At 76 years old, I had finally accomplished something I’d wanted to do for decades. I had written not one, but two novels. I was hoping to meet other writers, exchange ideas, and maybe even pick up a few tips about self-publishing.
Instead, I became the target of more than 200 comments—many of them accusing me of being a fake, a scammer, or someone who couldn’t write a sentence without ChatGPT.
What struck me most wasn’t that people disagreed with using AI.
It was that almost none of them had read a single page of either book.
The verdict had already been reached.
The evidence wasn’t necessary.
If you’ve not read my earlier thoughts on why artificial intelligence provokes such strong reactions among authors, you may also enjoy Why Some Writers Hate ChatGPT More Than Readers Do.
I’ve Been Trying to Write My Whole Life
My friends have encouraged me to write for years.
I’ve always had an active imagination. Story ideas come easily to me. Characters appear in my head. Plots unfold while I’m lying awake at night. I’ve read thousands of books over my lifetime—from Michael Connelly and Joseph Wambaugh to James Clavell, Wilbur Smith, John Grisham, Philip Caputo, Ernest Hemingway, Tom Wolfe, and countless others.
Books have been one of the great joys of my life.
But every time I tried to write one of my own, I’d make it a chapter or two before convincing myself it was terrible.
Into the trash it went.
Again.
And again.
The stories were there.
The structure wasn’t.
The dialogue wasn’t.
The pacing wasn’t.
Most of all, I couldn’t bridge the gap between the story I imagined and the words on the page.
ChatGPT Didn’t Give Me My Stories
That’s the part many critics never seem to understand.
ChatGPT didn’t invent Nate Briscoe.
It didn’t invent Mason Greer.
It didn’t decide to write about a cold-case detective using AI to organize decades-old evidence or a skip tracer using modern technology to find people who don’t want to be found.
Those ideas were mine.
The research was mine.
The editing was mine.
The rewrites were mine.
Over the course of more than a month for each novel, chapters were rewritten, dialogue was polished, scenes were moved, characters were developed, and countless decisions were made.
This wasn’t “write me a novel.”
It was collaboration.
No different than bouncing ideas off an editor, a writing partner, or a trusted friend—except this collaborator happened to be artificial intelligence.
I Understand Why Some Writers Are Angry
To be fair, I understand where some of the frustration comes from.
Amazon really has been flooded with books that appear to have been generated with little effort or care. Some people are clearly using AI as a shortcut instead of a tool.
That hurts readers.
It also hurts serious writers.
But assuming every author who uses AI is doing that is like assuming every photographer is a fraud because Photoshop exists.
Tools don’t determine quality.
People do.
I’ve also written about the broader relationship people are developing with artificial intelligence in AI Is Becoming Humanity’s Emotional Support System, where I explore why AI evokes emotions that go far beyond technology itself.
The Real Question Isn’t Who Wrote It
When I pick up a Michael Connelly novel, I don’t care whether he outlined it on index cards, wrote it on a typewriter, or dictated it into a computer.
I care whether Harry Bosch keeps me turning the pages.
Readers don’t finish books because they approve of the author’s writing process.
They finish books because they’re invested in the story.
That’s always been true.
That raises another question entirely: can artificial intelligence actually turn someone into the next bestselling author? I explored that idea in Can AI Make You the Next John Grisham?, where I argue that AI can improve your process—but it can’t replace imagination, life experience, or the ability to tell a compelling story.
Every Generation Faces This
I’ve lived long enough to watch people declare that calculators would ruin math, word processors would ruin writing, digital cameras would ruin photography, and the internet would ruin research.
Now it’s AI.
Every new technology is first dismissed as cheating.
Then it’s accepted.
Eventually, it’s taken for granted.
The technology changes.
Human nature doesn’t.
That same pattern appears throughout history. I explored another example in The Convenience Trap, where today’s labor-saving technology often becomes tomorrow’s dependency.
Maybe the Bigger Lesson
Looking back, I’m almost grateful for the criticism.
Not because it was pleasant.
Because it reminded me that people often judge what they think you’re doing instead of what you’re actually doing.
No one asked how I wrote my books.
No one asked how many drafts I went through.
No one asked how much editing was involved.
Many simply saw the words “ChatGPT” and decided they already knew everything they needed to know.
That’s unfortunate.
Not just for me.
But for anyone who’s found a tool that finally allows them to tell the stories they’ve been carrying around for years.
I’m not trying to replace writers.
I’m finally able to become one.
🛡️ Bunker Notice: This isn’t a defense of artificial intelligence, nor is it an attack on writers who choose not to use it. It’s the story of one lifelong reader who spent decades trying to write a novel, failed more times than he can count, and finally found a tool that helped turn ideas into finished books. You don’t have to agree with my process—but I hope you’ll judge the stories by what’s on the page, not by the tools used to write them.