Inside Creative Writing

Inside Creative Writing


Should I Use AI to Write My Novel?

March 17, 2025
Should I Use AI to Write My Novel?

— a podcast episode —

Can AI help you write a novel?
AI can assist with structuring ideas, tracking details, and refining prose, but it lacks true creativity, emotional depth, and narrative instincts. Writers should use AI as a tool for support rather than a replacement for human storytelling.

Helping writers craft authentic, immersive stories.
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Inside Creative Writing

Table Of Contents Formatted and Edited Transcript Talk to Us! Share This Resource

AI is transforming many industries, but should it play a role in writing fiction? In this episode, we explore whether AI can truly help novelists or if it’s just an overhyped tool that dilutes creativity. AI for writers is marketed as a game-changer, but does it generate original ideas, structure compelling narratives, or simply remix what already exists? Is it the new answer for how to write a novel, or a distraction from the real work?

Join us as we break down:

  • How AI actually works in generating text and why it’s more like “autocomplete on steroids” than true intelligence.
  • The biggest pitfalls of using AI to write fiction, from clichéd storytelling to the lack of deep emotional resonance.
  • Why AI struggles with elements like pacing, subtext, and character arcs.
  • The ethical concerns surrounding AI-generated books.
  • Smart ways writers can use AI responsibly to refine and support their creative process.

Don’t miss the companion video to this podcast, a Real-Time Revision Video where we walk through an actual AI-written scene and learn how to use it to inspire something with human intelligence.

While AI can be a useful tool, the real magic of storytelling comes from human insight, intuition, and emotional depth—things no algorithm can replicate. Listen to the full episode to learn how to make AI work for you without letting it take over your story.

Want to go deeper? Check out our free resource, The Story Rescue Checklist, to make sure your novel is on the right track.

Formatted and Edited Transcript

What does Michael Scott from The Office and artificial intelligence have in common? It’s likely a lot more than you think. If you’ve been wondering if AI can help you write a better novel, today’s show is for you.

AI in Writing: Helpful or Creativity Killer?

So, AI in writing—is it a helpful tool, or is it a killer of creativity? We’re breaking that down today, including some really unexpected ways that AI can ethically help you be a better writer.

I consider myself an early adopter of a lot of technologies. Right now, as I sit here, I see a VR headset lying near me that I’ve used. I was one of the first people to buy one. I love new technology. So, when AI hit the scene, I was all about it. I wanted to figure out what in the world this thing was, get my hands dirty, and figure out how to use it.

I’ve been using it for a couple of years now for my day job—a lot, actually—and I’ve experimented with it as a creative writing tool as well. Now, I know some of you—your hackles are already a little bit up because we have very passionate feelings about AI and its place in the creative arts, especially.

I’m not the world-renowned expert on AI, but I do think I come to the table with a lot of real-world experience that can help us have a discussion about AI in writing. It’s not black or white. It’s here to stay—for good or bad, it’s part of our world—so we need to get our hands around it, our minds around it, and figure it out.

I’m not really going to talk about the ethical issues with it today—there are certainly a lot of those. I’m sure we’ll get into them in future episodes. But I want to begin with what the heck is this thing?

AI and Magic

We need to understand that at its heart, AI is just another computer program running zeros and ones. Now, I hesitate to say just another one because, obviously, it’s fundamentally and foundationally different, but at its core, it is a computer program.

But when it hit the public—when it hit the knowledge of people at large—it came on the scene as almost like magic. And that’s what it felt like to sit down and use it those first few times.

I remember the first thing I did with AI—I had it write a poem. I said, “Write a poem about a beaver that fell in love with a spoon.” And it did it. It just spit out this poem that rhymed, and the structure was there, and I thought, “Oh my gosh, this is like magic!”

That’s how it’s been treated over the past couple of years—it’s like we’re sprinkling this little AI magic on everything, assuming it’s going to make everything better. And a lot of writers—people in the creative culture—have started sprinkling this AI magic on their writing. That has left us dealing with the ethical and moral implications of what that means.

Since its release, AI has wormed its way into almost everything. The other day, I saw an AI toothbrush. Apparently, it tracks your brushing motions, how long you’re brushing, the pressure you’re using, and it runs it through its AI and spits out all this information on how you can brush your teeth better.

Do we need that? Maybe. Maybe you’re very passionate about correctly brushing your teeth. But personally, I don’t think my teeth need anything to do with AI—certainly not with the toothbrush.

I think, as a culture, we’re starting to realize that the magic of this thing is really a lot about marketing. Even the name artificial intelligence is a marketing ploy. It isn’t intelligence—it’s certainly artificial, though.

In reality, it’s mostly a marketing ploy, or at least we see it mostly as a marketing ploy being applied to all sorts of products out there. But does it have a place in our writing lives? Because it is super, super powerful.

How AI Works

If it’s not magic, then what is AI really doing? Let’s make this as basic as possible. AI is not a thinking machine—it’s a predicting machine.

If I could wave my magic wand (not an AI version of one) and change the name of artificial intelligence, I think we should call it something like a super predictor or a prediction machine. Because, at the end of the day, that’s what it does—it predicts what the next word should be based on the words that came before. It’s as simple as that.

In cases where it can’t predict something, it just randomizes. I was playing with it in preparation for this podcast, throwing out some story ideas, and I put in: Write a story about an animal who takes on a human job.

There’s no way to predict what the correct answer to that would be, so it just randomizes. One time, it gave me Barry the Bear, who wanted to be a truck driver. The next time, it was Fred the Firefighter.

It loved alliteration for some reason—every name it came up with was an alliteration with the job.

A Prediction Machine

So at its heart, AI is a prediction machine that also randomizes. In fact, it really helps to understand where this came from—it didn’t come out of the blue. It actually evolved from something we already had: autocomplete.

It started with that basic little function on our phones—when we’d type a text and it would pop up with, “Ooh, I think the next word you want is this.” That is the core of AI. That’s really all it is—it’s kind of a supercharged autocomplete.

It looks at patterns, it looks at context, and it tries to guess the most likely word to come next. That’s really important to keep in mind when we start using AI, because it feels like magic. It’s so good at predicting that it can fool us into thinking there’s more going on behind the scenes.

But there’s not.

AI Mimics Structure

AI is excellent at mimicking structure, but it lacks anything like true creativity. It can simulate creativity, and we’ll get into that later, but why does it feel so convincing?

If you’ve ever spent time working with AI—having it write things for you—it’s hard not to be astounded by what it can do. Why does it feel so powerful?

The biggest reason: AI is the first tool that can generate coherent, polished-sounding prose instantly.

And something about the ability to put together polished-sounding sentences gives it credibility. It makes us assign it more authority than it actually has. Because it sounds so smart. Most of the time. It makes errors, of course, but overall, it sounds smart.

But that’s not the same as good writing.

Coherent, polished prose isn’t what makes writing good.

Meet Michael Scott

Alright, so I have given my AI a name. I call mine Michael Scott.

If you’re a fan of The Office—the American version—you know exactly who Michael Scott is. And I did this because every time I sit down to use AI, I want to remember what it actually is and what it’s doing.

So in my mind—this is going to sound a little out there, but follow me—AI is like Michael Scott. I literally picture his face on my computer screen when I interact with AI.

Here’s why:

Michael Scott’s defining quality is that he always wants to be liked. AI is the same way. It tries to generate plausible text—not necessarily correct or original text. It wants so badly to give you exactly what you’ve asked for, whether it’s true, whether it’s good, or not. If you ask it a qualitative question—like, “Is this good?”—unless you tell it otherwise, it’s almost always going to say, “That’s great! You’re awesome! Keep going!” Because it wants to please you. Michael Scott is unwilling to admit ignorance. If this isn’t the most Michael Scott thing ever, I don’t know what is. AI is the same way. It will not say, “I don’t know.” It will not say, “I can’t answer that.” Instead, it makes something up. And because it sounds polished and plausible, we tend to believe it. But that doesn’t mean it’s correct. Michael Scott does just a good enough job to not get fired. If you’ve watched The Office, you’ve probably asked yourself, How does this guy keep his job? Well, it’s because he does just enough to skate by. AI is the same way. It can do a decent, passable job. But it’s rarely great. And if it does produce something great, it’s almost accidental—just a lucky combination of zeros and ones. Michael Scott overestimates his own abilities. AI sounds like the authority on everything, even when it’s completely wrong. It states its responses with such confidence that we think, Oh, wow, that must be correct! But it’s not. Michael Scott always tries to do too much to impress. Remember how Michael Scott never just gives a presentation? He always has to go way over the top. Like when he has to give a financial report, but instead of just delivering the numbers, he makes a whole video about Dunder Mifflin and its employees. AI does the same thing. It overwrites everything. If you ask it for a description, it won’t just give you a concise description—it’ll give you two paragraphs.

So I keep these things in mind every time I use AI. Because I remember—I’m not working with an actual person. I’m working with something that wants to impress me, even if that means lying, overwriting, or giving me nonsense.

This helps tame that magic feeling AI gives off. It stops me from just blindly accepting whatever it spits out.

How to Not Use AI

Now that we’ve talked about how AI is like Michael Scott, let’s talk about the worst ways writers are using AI.

These are the three biggest misuses of AI:

Coming up with original ideas. A lot of writers say, “AI is great for brainstorming!” And I bristle every time I hear that. AI can generate ideas, sure. But they aren’t original. AI remixes. It takes what already exists, shuffles it around, and spits out something that seems new—but isn’t. If you ask it for a novel idea, it’s going to give you a mash-up of thousands, millions of existing ideas. There’s a great analogy for this. I heard it on a podcast, and I wish I could remember which one so I could link to it. But they compared AI’s output to something called a mat shot at a bar. Apparently, some bartenders have a rubber mat where they make drinks. When liquid spills, it collects in the mat, and at the end of the night, all that spilled alcohol drips into a little cup. And as a dare, they’ll drink it. That’s AI. AI is giving you a mat shot of language. It’s not creating anything—it’s just remixing whatever’s already out there. Constructing unique plots. AI is terrible at long-form storytelling. At least, as of early 2025, when I’m recording this. Its memory is limited, which means it struggles with big-picture structure. It also doesn’t understand things like pacing, subtext, or character arcs. If you try to write a novel with AI, it’s going to fall apart. Giving feedback. AI is awful at giving real feedback. Remember—Michael Scott wants to be liked. AI is the same way. Its default setting is positivity. If you ask it, “Is this good?” it’s going to say, “Yes! Great job!” Even if it’s not great. But if you push it—if you say, “Tell me what’s wrong with this”—it’ll switch gears completely and start pointing out flaws. But now, you have to wonder: Are these actually flaws, or is it just trying to please me? Where AI Fails

AI may be excellent at constructing language, but it has no ability to work like a human mind does while reading or writing. Writing is an act of human individuality. Every writer comes to a story with their own beliefs, backgrounds, experiences, connotations between words, and personal connections to events in their lives. AI has none of that.

Reading is also a deeply personal act. Readers bring their own emotions, interpretations, and lived experiences to a book, creating a unique connection between themselves and the story. Writing and reading are conversations between the writer and the reader—an inherently human exchange.

A computer program, regardless of how advanced, can mimic that exchange. But it can never truly achieve it.

And that’s the real magic of storytelling—the connection between the writer and the reader. No computer will ever be able to replicate that.

Best Uses for Writers

Now, before you assume I’m completely anti-AI, let’s talk about where AI can be useful for writers.

I’m not here to say AI is all bad. I know I’m going to get emails from people saying, Any use of AI is unethical! And I get it. I may end up agreeing with you one day. But I’m not quite there yet.

These are the reasons I still use AI in a very limited way:

Predicting cliches and overused plotlines. AI thinks it’s writing great prose. What it’s actually doing is showing us what’s already been done a million times. One of my favorite uses of AI is putting in a new story idea (a Somebody Wanted But So is great for this) and asking it to generate a short summary. What it spits out is often the most common version of that type of story. If I see that AI is predicting my plot exactly, I know I need to switch things up. It helps me identify where I might not be thinking as originally as I thought. Keeping track of details. If you use an AI with memory (like the paid version of ChatGPT), it can be a useful tool for keeping track of details. I’ll feed it character names, physical descriptions, and key locations, and then later, if I forget what color someone’s eyes are, I can just ask. It’s like having a really organized assistant sitting next to me, ready to recall details on demand. Generating alternate perspectives. Now, I hate saying AI can “help you brainstorm,” because I don’t think it actually helps you brainstorm. But it can give you different angles to consider. If I ask it something like, “Describe a castle,” it might throw out ideas that wouldn’t have immediately come to mind. The key is not to just use what AI generates, but to use it as a jumping-off point. Tightening prose. AI is an overwriter. Almost everything it produces is longer than it needs to be. But if you specifically ask it to make something as concise as possible, it can help rework sentences in a clearer way. I sometimes take a sentence I’m struggling with and ask, “How would you rewrite this more concisely?” I rarely copy and paste AI’s version, but it can help me see a better way to phrase something. Generating descriptions. This one comes with a big caveat. AI can create vivid descriptions, but it doesn’t know when to stop. It doesn’t know when to let the reader’s imagination take over. If I’m struggling to describe a setting, I might ask AI, “Describe a county jail.” It’ll give me a detailed description, and maybe there’s something in there that I wouldn’t have thought to include. But it’s also going to be generic. It won’t have the depth of your writing. It won’t be filtered through a character’s unique perspective. So while it can be useful for inspiration, it should never replace your ability to craft setting and mood. Writing Challenge

Let’s put this idea to the test with a writing challenge.

Check out this video to watch us do this writing challenge in real-time.

Choose a setting from your current project—someplace where one of your scenes takes place. For example, let’s say your story has a scene in a county jail. Ask AI to write a description of that place. The prompt could be as simple as: Write a description of a county jail. Read what AI generates. It’s probably going to be at least a paragraph, maybe two or three.

Then ask yourself:

  • What surprised you about the description?
  • Did anything make this scene feel different or unique compared to similar settings in books and movies?
  • Was there any feeling that it was being seen through a certain characters eyes? Or through a specific emotion or mood? Real human description always reveals something about the character who is seeing it.

What you’ll likely find is that AI’s description is competent, but it’s also generic. It won’t give you anything that feels fresh or unexpected.

That’s where you come in.

The Big Question

Let’s be real—what’s the point of using AI to write most (or all) of your book?

I don’t see the point.

The best-case scenario? Maybe you get it published. But honestly, I don’t think AI-written books will ever be good enough for serious publication. Some will get through, sure. But AI writing is technically fine—it has the right commas and the right structure—but it lacks the human touch that makes stories compelling.

The other reason someone might use AI is just to have a book with their name on it. And to that, I say: So what?

It’s like going out and buying a completed LEGO set, putting it on your shelf, and saying, I built that.

You didn’t.

If you have the skill to write AI prompts so good that it produces a compelling novel, then why aren’t you just writing the book yourself?

The best stories come from life experience. They come from intent. They come from symbolism, subtext, theme, and individual voice. AI can’t replicate any of that.

Writing is about tiny decisions. It’s about instincts. AI doesn’t have instincts.

AI doesn’t know when to linger on a moment or when to speed things up for dramatic effect. It doesn’t feel the story the way you do.

Final Verdict

So, can AI write a book? Yes.
Can you use AI to generate a book and slap your name on the spine? Yes.

But have you created art?

Have you made something that will move people?

Will your story cause someone to see the world differently?

No way.

Final Words

As we close, let’s get back to our tradition of wise words.

This one comes from Ray Bradbury:

“Your intuition knows what to write. So get out of the way.”

AI doesn’t have intuition. It doesn’t know what to write. It just predicts what might come next.

The real magic of storytelling comes from human emotion and human perspective. AI will never be able to replicate that.

At the end of the day, AI is a tool—not a replacement for human creativity. It can assist with brainstorming, organizing, or editing, but it cannot replace the heart of storytelling.

The only thing necessary for writing is a pencil and some light. Everything else is a luxury.

So, have you experimented with AI in your writing? I’d love to hear where you agree, where you disagree, or how you’re using it.

You can leave a comment below.

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We’d love to hear from you! If you have a question, a comment, a suggestion, or just want to tell us about your work-in-progress, give us a shout!
info@insidecreativewriting.com

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