What's the point of making things?
Befriending AI, writing Taylor Swift lesson plans, and why creativity continues to be essential to our evolution
Oh, how I wish for a different passion.
This is the thought that haunts me when I’m sitting at my computer stumped by the construction of a simple sentence or berating myself for not getting to the computer at all.
Though I’m a contributing member of society who typically works more than she plays, I answer to a very harsh inner judge at the end of each day. The one who demands I also create things.
Sometimes I imagine how it would feel to grant myself a hall pass: me, gently whispering into my own ear, “Ease down, girl. No one is asking you to write anything. You’re off the hook. Go watch TV.”
But those of you with a creative passion know that, even if we tried, this isn’t how it works. Creativity is a compulsion. Making things is a responsibility with which we’ve been mysteriously bestowed.
This week I had coffee with a friend who, like me, also left the classroom in pursuit of a creative passion. She’s in the process of launching her own home goods line, a bucket list ambition that involves a steep learning curve. It would be so much easier, so much less agonizing, we agreed, if we could just squelch this desire to make things.
But, then again, what kind of world would that be?
Creativity doesn’t feel rational. Especially these days, when AI seems to be moving faster than our human brains, and many of us wonder if our skill sets are fully expendable. Case in point: as a veteran elementary school teacher who taught test prep and essay writing for more than 15 years, I was quite embarrassed to fail this NYTimes essay chatbot challenge. Really, what’s the point of laboring over anything if a computer can deliver the same result?
But you can’t knock something until you try it, so a few months ago I put down my sword (and preconceived judgments) to find out what this tool was all about. Here’s how it went:
My first request for ChatGPT was to write a short blog in the voice of Abby Maslin. I fell out of my chair laughing at the result. It was generic, superficial, and literally ended with the words, “LOVE AND LIGHT, Abby Maslin.”
My next assignment was to write a bio for me.
The result was… grammatically correct but a tad exaggerated (AI tip: delete at least 5 adjectives from every response). It was, however, gratifying for my ego.
Author Courtney Maum recently wrote about using AI in her novel writing, which gave me a sense of how it might be useful to my fiction work, so I decided to take it in a different direction instead and find out how I might use it as an educator.
In my role as Creative Development Officer at Amore Learning, one of my fun tasks is imagining and inventing creative, new afterschool classes. But writing a lesson, let alone a 10-week course, on Taylor Swift (yes, this is a real class!) can be daunting. Where to jump in? How to structure it? What kinds of activities to include?
And this is where I’ve discovered the greatest value of ChatGPT (at least for me). While it can’t deliver a high-quality, original product all on its own, it can provide a decent starting place from which to begin. Sometimes finding an entryway into an idea is the hardest part. ChatGPT doesn’t get writer’s block. It spins out answers at a delirious, envy-inducing speed. And this forces me to be less precious about mine.
At the end of the day, I’m still a bit terrified of the implications of AI. But I can see a path in which humans work collaboratively with technology, one in which it provides the scaffolding to enhance our natural creativity. After all, we may lean on technology, but technology leans on us more. It depends on humans for the original ideas, the zest, the novelty. AI will only ever be as good as the content we feed it, so no. No one is expendable for the time being, least of all the artists and makers.
Technology will evolve, and it’s likely to do so quickly, but I’m keeping my attention on the value of human-centered work, hoping that the rise of AI will force us to give credit where it’s due. Nurses, doctors, teachers, farmers, social workers, sanitation workers… these jobs are the bread and butter of a functioning society. And we must start honoring them as such.
A wildly fun, perfectly planned 10-week Taylor Swift class (we call it Swiftie Dreams, for the record) is only ever going to be as good as the teacher leading it. The same is true for most great things. A fabulous recipe is nothing without a talented chef behind it; a bottle of wine is as good as the vintner.
And if your attention is drawn to the fact that this week’s Substack is arriving quite late, it’s because I’ve spent the past few days doing a job only a human can do, filling in for a teacher friend who caring for her health.
She amazes me. As do the other humans in my life. If you’ve ever met someone fighting for their physical or mental health, or one that can command the attention of a room of small children, or can spin words in a way that imprints upon you forever, perhaps you’d agree:
No technology will ever be as impressive as a human being.
An Altar to People Making Things
What I’m reading: I just finished BLANK by Zibby Owens (out 3/1, but available now for free to Prime members). A quick and hilarious read about an author with serious writer’s block (completely unrelatable) and a personal life that is rapidly dissolving into chaos.
I’m also halfway through HOW TO SAY BABYLON by Safiya Sinclair, a memoir about growing up in a Rastafari sect and breaking away from one’s family/culture.
Don’t miss: American Fiction, nominated for Best Picture. An outstanding ensemble and so much food for thought about publishing, selling out, family, and what we’re willing to attach our names to.
And speaking of selling out, Vox wrote about the pressure on writers (and artists) to market themselves online. Turns out there are plenty of others feeling ick about self-promotion and social media marketing. A must-read for the writers (and makers) out there.