My last post discussed the upheaval caused by new tools—how people often resist, are confused by, and fear them. That was true of early machines once thought to disrupt the handwritten word. It’s true again today with artificial intelligence.
So let me say plainly: I use AI to help me write. And I don’t feel ashamed of that. I also don’t feel afraid.
Here’s why.
AI can suggest. It can imitate. It can even surprise me with a phrase or image I hadn’t considered. But the heart of the story? The purpose? The soul behind the characters? That still comes from me.
Every novel I write — including Red-Haired Distraction — begins with something deeply personal. A scene, a memory, a tension between two people. AI doesn’t feel those things. It doesn’t remember my grandfather’s face, or the sound of my father’s voice, or the scent of my mother’s kitchen. I do.
AI can help shape a paragraph. But it can’t live the life behind it.
Sometimes I use AI like a conversation partner — the kind who doesn’t get tired of answering questions or making suggestions. What would a 17-year-old girl wear in 1870 Texas? How would a freight wagon be loaded? I can ask, and it gives me a start — a lead I can research further, refine, or reject.
When I get stuck mid-sentence or wonder if a scene is too slow, I can test an idea with AI. Often, it’s not about finding the “right” wording, but unlocking my own.
And let’s be honest — there are parts of writing that feel like chores. Rewriting a blurb for the fifth time. Cleaning up typos. Formatting a blog post. These aren’t creative decisions — they’re housekeeping. And just as I don’t churn my own butter, I don’t mind getting a little help here.
If a tool helps me spend more time in the creative work — the part I love — then I’m glad to use it.
AI doesn’t make decisions for me. It doesn’t write chapters while I sip coffee on the porch. It doesn’t know what I want a character to feel when he stares across a campfire, or how I want a reader to sigh at the end of a scene. Those are choices I make. Always.
To me, AI is like a sharp pencil or a well-lit desk — a tool that helps me do what I already want to do, more clearly and more effectively.
I write historical fiction because I believe in stories that connect us across time. If a tool helps me build that bridge — even in a small way — then I’ll use it. Thoughtfully. Humbly. With care.
If the story still moves you, still rings true, still lingers after the last page… then I’ve done my job.
And if AI helped carry a few bricks while I built it, so be it.