Pages

Pages

Wednesday, November 26, 2025

Writing Is About The Process, Not The Output

Normally when I talk about writing I'm concerned with the technical aspects of storytelling, and trying to help folks overcome common pitfalls. However, with the advent of plagiarism software, I think there is something that really needs to be addressed. Something that is so intrinsic to making any kind of art that we didn't even need to put it into words before now... but this is the world we live in.

In short, the output you generate is worthless if it doesn't have a soul. What makes a story, a drawing, or a sculpture worthwhile is that it reflects the process the creator went through. It has to be the result of action, creativity, blood, sweat, and tears. If all you did was turn the assignment over to a computer to execute on your behalf then not only did you not make something, but you are poorer because you didn't even have the experience of making something.

That is what makes art valuable, and what lends it a unique flavor; the fact that it is made by a human creator who did their best to execute this piece to the fullest extent of their ability.

You can't trust the process if you aren't even going through it!

Before we get into the nitty gritty this week, don't forget to sign up for my weekly newsletter to get all my updates right in your inbox. Lastly, to be sure you're following all of my followables, check out my LinkTree!

Lastly, don't forget to check out my Vocal archive for additional fiction, articles, explorations of weird history, and more!

Making Art Is About Having An Experience


I want to take a moment to reference a piece of fiction from a place even bleaker than our world, but which at least realized it should ban any form of Abominable Intelligence. In the grim darkness of Warhammer 40K, the Emperor of Mankind genetically engineered several sons who were colossal in size, strength, and power, considered demigods forged from science and warp-touched sorcery. One of these was Fulgrim, a being who sought perfection in himself, and in all things.

Fulgrim once entered a competition to carve a statue against a baseline human sculptor. Like something out of a Greek myth, the human artist couldn't hope to defeat Fulgrim... but somehow he did. Because while Fulgrim executed a technically perfect piece of art, there was no denying that the other man had carved something that truly made a connection with the observer. There was a soul to his art that people could read into, gaze upon, and which made one feel something. When they looked upon Fulgrim's statue, all they saw was a flawless depiction of a subject, but it seemed empty. Hollow. It had no soul, and no story to tell. Even Fulgrim himself, enraged and with his pride bleeding, acknowledged that the human had made a better piece of art than he had... he just couldn't understand why.

How... how do they do it!?

There are dozens of examples of fiction talking about the process of creating art, and what a quintessentially human experience it is (Asimov had a lot to say on the subject, too). However, I find myself thinking of this example from a very silly dark space opera series about big manly men having violent punch-ups, because this one snapshot encapsulates so much about the fundamental misunderstanding so many people have about creating art. Any art.

People who are defending AI, who get super stoked about being able to push a button and have it make things for them, are Fulgrim. They have the ability to effortlessly create an output, that even if it is technically perfect (generative AI isn't, but we'll set that aside for now) it is empty, soulless, and the eye just slides right off of it. He is so fixated on why his flawless sculpture has less regard, and less beauty, than the flawed creation made by someone who lacks his enhanced gifts, and his unusual abilities. How is this art made by a mere mortal better than his?

And we can have the whole debate about using words like soul to describe a piece of art, or arguing over whether something digitally painted is less "real" than something made in a physical medium... but that gets into higher, philosophical hair splitting. However, generative AI creates an uncanny valley effect. Even if it gets the hands right, and even if it gets the proper number of teeth, just looking at it we feel there is something off about it. It feels like an imitation of something in a way that triggers our brains that it isn't safe, and it isn't right. It's off-putting, and once you recognize it for what it is, it's ugly in a way that no crayon drawing can match, because at least those were made with genuine effort.

Don't worry, this applies to text-heads, too.

Everything I said above about sculptures and images? It applies to books, too.

Because even if you get lucky, and an AI manages to write a story that doesn't have massive grammatical errors, constantly forgets who the cast of characters is, and has plot twists that spiral in on themselves in a way that makes no sense, it feels off to read. Reading something written by generative AI feels like hearing something in the Apalachian wilderness call out in a voice that sounds human, but which clearly isn't. You don't know if it's the intonation, the accent, or just that no living person speaks like that, but you know it isn't right... and it creates that same uncanny feeling.

Roll Up Your Sleeves, And Get Stuck In!


Art is about doing. Yes, at the end of the day, the output is going to matter if you want to be able to sell your art and make a living as a creator. But it takes years to hone your skills, and to be able to make art with your own mind, your own hands, and your own skills. Whether you're writing, drawing, making videos, or sculpting, that end result is not the end-all-be-all. It is the result of your journey, and the experience you had getting there. It is the result of your process.

You cannot skip the process just because you don't want to do the hard work, and then claim this uncanny fey creation is your work. You didn't make it. You just pushed a button, and made a pact with another creature, who did the work for you.

It's sort of like people who download video games that play themselves without any input from you. Or people who just pay to win a game without actually playing, skipping straight to the end scene. Those people didn't have the experience of playing the game, didn't develop the skill necessary to achieve that victory, and as such they didn't actually do anything. The experience, even when it's hard and frustrating, is the goddamn point of it all!

Support The Literary Mercenary


If you want to see me produce more work, consider some of the following options!

The Azukail Games YouTube Channel (where I contribute video content)

And if you happen to have some spare dosh lying around, and you want to be sure my supply doesn't run low, consider become a Patreon patron, or leaving a tip by Buying Me a Ko-Fi!

Also, if you're curious about how to write for tabletop RPGs, don't forget to check out my show Tabletop Mercenary, which you can find on both the Azukail Games channel!




Like, Follow, and Come Back Again!


That's all for this week's Craft of Writing! For more of my work, check out my Vocal archive, or at My Amazon Author Page where you can find books like my sci-fi dystopian thriller Old Soldiers, the Hardboiled Cat series about a mystery solving Maine Coon in Marked Territory and Painted Cats, my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife, or my most recent short story collection The Rejects!
 
And to stay on top of all my latest news and releases, collected once a week, make sure you subscribe to The Literary Mercenary's mailing list

If you'd like to help support my work, then consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or heading over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page! Lastly, to keep up with my latest, follow me on FacebookTumblrTwitter, and now on Pinterest as well!

No comments:

Post a Comment