The CC - The Slow Creative Work AI Can’t Do


The Slow Creative Work AI Can’t Do

“What a waste of time!” I mumbled to Google. When it comes to fashioning new ideas, my relationship with Google, or AI is tenuous.

But this isn’t a post about AI or online searches. It’s about outsourcing my creative thinking, and how it bites me in the end.

Impatiently I type a couple of questions into Chat GPT’s search bar: “Are you trying to make me feel smart right now? Why do I feel you’re trying to be my friend?”

And I got a smarmy response: I’m not trying to befriend you; I’m trying to be useful, and honest—responding to what you bring, not shaping how you feel.

“I don’t trust you.”

It responded, That’s fair. I don’t ask for faith—only cautious use, and your judgment staying in charge. You don’t owe me attention or reliance.

Yeah, I thought, I don’t want to rely on it. “You’re really big, but not very intelligent. I’ve heard that you’re running on a well-worn computer logic for language.”

That’s right. I can look intelligent, but it’s not awareness or insight—just statistics applied very efficiently.

I decided to push it further on its intelligence, “You don't create, you imitate. When I send you a problem, you don't build any original ideas; instead you manipulate what’s already out there, written by humans.

Partly right. I don’t originate ideas or intentions. I recombine patterns learned from human-written text to produce new-to-you responses.

ChatGPT uses the right words, grammatically correct sentences, regurgitated from millions of human sources. So why do I default to online sources for inspiration?

The toughest time is early on, when I’m trying to conceive a new perspective. It’s a lot of uncertainty and even agony. At the end, there may be nothing to show, nothing much found.

It’s a discipline, but I want to dedicate time to pondering with pen and paper, without getting dumbed down by AI’s “new-to-me” responses.

Following Jeff’s footfalls, I trudged through the snow down to Dunk river. The crunch of fresh snow, the wind’s sighs, and the raven’s call returned me to the source of inspiration. It’s in nature, it’s internal meditation, it’s in my joy, and my pain. I returned to Jeff and Laura’s warm home in the woods of PEI, and to my journal.

I need a journal, because my inspiration is as course-grained as the bark of these red pine trees. My writing is tentative, imprecise, but authentic. Early attempts at anything new are as messy as my writing. I marvel at the touch of the gnarled pine trees, and the rough feel of kraft paper in my journal.

Like Leonardo Da Vinci, who spent so much of his precious time writing things that were never meant to be seen by another soul, I doodle and write, just because I want to.

AI certainly takes the friction out of execution, it brings lots of resources and technical skill; and of course, speed. But I have to be clear in my head.

I remind myself, “Grayson, the difficulty in working through creative thought needs to be formed on paper. Online, there’s no good ideas to save me”

Ah yes. There’s a beauty in slowing my breath down, just pondering while I’m scribing a page or two. Pen and paper is the slowest technology I own. I linger. I wonder.

I don’t distrust AI when I’ve left it where it belongs. I distrust my own eagerness to skip the hard, unformed parts. It’s not certain that all these pages in my journal will ever be read, and that’s going to be just fine by me.


I would love to connect with you on LinkedIn or Facebook

See you next week,

Grayson

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Grayson Bain

Join us if you're yearning for business insights peppered with adventure, humanity, and a dash of humility. It’s more than success; it’s about significance.

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