Writing, Humanity, & Artificial Intelligence — Hannah Holbrook

If you’ve somehow avoided the recent news articles and frenetic email threads circulating in academic communities, Santa Barbara City College included, let me be the first to tell you: At worst, human creativity and originality in fiction, non-fiction, and poetry are under threat, and at best, the world of writing education is being disrupted and, potentially, “The College Essay Is Dead” (Stephen Marche, The Atlantic).

Indeed, say NPR writers Rosalsky and Peaslee, “We've entered a new world where we're being forced to re-evaluate our education system and even the value — or at least the method — of teaching kids how to write.” The value of writing? Is this “science fiction”? Are we at the “beginning of a revolution”? Whatever the answer to these questions, I agree with Edward Tian, the twenty-two year old who just wrote an app to detect machine-written text called “GPTZero,” that this is an “inflection point” (qtd. in Rosalsky and Peaslee).  Explaining his motivation to create the app over his winter break, Tian says, "Human writing can be so beautiful, and there are aspects of it that computers should never co-opt. And it feels like that might be at risk if everybody is using ChatGPT to write.”

What everyone is talking about is “ChatGPT,” a new program just released to the public for free that “generates eerily articulate and nuanced text in response to short prompts, with people using it to write love letters, poetry, fan fiction — and their schoolwork” (Kalley Huang, The New York Times). It can even “write a story in a particular style, answer a question, explain a concept, compose an email” (Rosalsky and Peaslee).  How does it do all this?  The mind-boggling answer is that “the technology has basically devoured the entire Internet, reading the collective works of humanity and learning patterns in language that it can recreate.” Science fiction indeed, but how we choose to use AI technologies may determine our reality.

 I’m hoping these alarm sounding articles turn out to be similar to Y2K – there’s nothing to see here – but just in case, I’m grateful to those who are rushing to create apps and firewalls “to preserve integrity and trust in the education community and beyond” (Chris Caren, Turnitin). In schools, in literature, and in our public discourse, authenticity (and vigilance) has never been so crucial to our survival.

For your reading pleasure:

This 22-Year-Old Is Trying to Save Us from ChatGPT before It Changes Writing Forever” (Greg Rosalsky and Emma Peaslee, NPR)

Alarmed by A.I. Chatbots, Universities Start Revamping How They Teach” (Kalley Huang, The New York Times)

The College Essay Is Dead: Nobody Is Prepared for How AI Will Transform Academia.” (Stephen Marche, The Atlantic)

AI Writing: The Challenge and Opportunity in Front of Education Now” (Chris Caren, CEO, Turnitin)

Hannah Holbrook teaches composition and literature at Santa Barbara City College and writes essays and half novels (is that not a genre?). She has both attended and volunteered at the Santa Barbara Writers Conference starting in 2016, where she finds support and inspiration for her writing practice.

Mary Hogan

Tuesday June 20, 8:00 PM, Pacific Ballroom

Mary Hogan is the author of Two Sisters, praised by bestselling author Adriana Trigiani, and, Left, a love story about a woman who slowly retreats into a fantasy world as she loses her once whip-smart husband to dementia. Her compulsively-readable historical novel based on the Johnstown Flood of 1889, The Woman in the Photo, tells a story of class and catastrophe that resonates today. Her previous novels include the young adult titles, The Serious Kiss, Perfect Girl and Pretty Face (HarperCollins). Married to veteran TV and stage actor Robert Hogan until his death in 2021, Mary lives in New York City with their Catahoula Leopard rescue dog.

The Value of Hanging Out with Fellow Lunatics -- Rick Shaw

Writers come in all shapes and sizes, physically and metaphorically, weaving simple words into verse of such striking beauty to bring a tear, or dark imagery leaving you unable to sleep without a light on for weeks at a time. For some, stringing words and conjuring images comes easy, like breathing. For others each word, phrase, sentence, paragraph is a struggle of epic proportion. But we as writers are all bound by a single objective – we must tell stories. 

Though writers are often introverts, and for many, writing is a solitary thing – door closed, BIC-HOK (Butt-in-Chair-Hands-On-Keyboard). As humans, we are also social creatures, and if, as readers and writers, are lucky we find a welcoming gathering of other such creatures.

Yes there are others like us, who are afflicted with particular flavor of lunacy. Afflicted with a compulsion to share stories.

The Santa Barbara Writers Conference resumes in June, after a three-year hiatus. A conclave of like-minded, exceptionally generous souls who are willing to share their experience. It is an eclectic mix of professionals and amateurs, indie and traditionally published authors. Above all, it’s an environment that breeds creativity and provides a space for us to learn from some of the best in our field. I am hooked, a junkie returning for a fix.

I’ve been attending, off and on, since 2005. It took me a couple of years to believe I belonged among such a host. You see, Imposters Syndrome frequently holds court over the voices and characters in my head. Now I draw energy and a sense of comfort from this community of lunatics, online, and once a year in person.

Though the industry is evolving, the need to hone your craft, to tell a compelling story, will always be the foundation of our work. If you have a story to tell, poetry to compose, or screen plays to hone, SBWC is as welcoming a space as you’ll find.

Come with an open mind, experiment, and try hard not to hold your works too precious.

I can’t stress enough the importance of opening yourself up to new genres, or forms. Sit-in and move between sessions. There is an energy flowing through the lectures, workshops, and pirate sessions. If you’re a night owl, try a late-night pirate session – read and critique into the wee hours, until we’ve had enough. Some of the best of us lunatics hang out here. We learn as much, if not more, from each other. We learn to develop a thicker skin. Rule number one is we’re not here to tear down, we’re here to help each other grow.

So, after three years of COVID, we will renew friendships, make new ones, and honor the void left by those no longer among us. We will bring our current and new projects, for critique and revision. We break story and argue the rules, so we can break those, too. We will celebrate the successes of works published – and years of hard work that got them there.

I am honored to be part of this community and hang with these lunatics a few days each June.

 

And, yes, Alice, we’re all a little mad here.