When does a story stop being ours?

And do we even care

If I write something and then AI tweaks it, edits it, or rewrites parts, is it still mine? When is it okay to put my name on it, and when should I say “written with help from AI”? Is it a percentage thing? Like, if 70% is me and 30% is AI, does that still count as my story?

That question reminds me of my first job in a newsroom.

After my internship, I landed a full-time reporting job, and my editor was… intense. Most of the time, not in a fun way. He was sharp, demanding, and often a little too eager to “fix” things. When one of us handed in an article, he’d tear it apart.

Sure, I was new, and my writing needed work. But sometimes he’d change so much that it didn’t feel like my article anymore, and yet, it still carried my name. And I remember feeling weirdly guilty about that.

But honestly, sometimes when I write my posts, I wish I had an editor. Just to tell me –“this part feels off”, “fix this”, “the conclusion needs to be stronger”. And yes, that’s when I’m tempted to reach for AI.

Long before jobs and editors and AI, I remember the moment when I first felt like I sincerely owned a story.

I was in 7th grade, and we had to write an essay for Croatian class. The topic: How I imagine the perfect school.

As you can guess, most of my classmates wrote about futuristic, high-tech schools –places with robots instead of teachers, no homework, no tests. Schools where you came to have fun, not be restricted.

And honestly, I probably would’ve written the same, had my life circumstances not been a bit different.

When I was 13, I had to switch schools because my family moved back to the city where I was born, the one we had fled during the war in the ’90s, after years of living on the island where I grew up. But after 10 years on the island, I completely forgot about the city. So, I was devastated when we came back. I didn’t want to leave my friends, and I was terrified of this new life, which was entirely different from life on the island.

I hated my new school. As a shy introvert, I had a hard time making new friends, and I didn’t like my new classmates because they mocked my “weird” accent. I had been an excellent student before 7th grade, but I was clearly overwhelmed, and the stress showed in my grades, which were now far from A’s. All I wanted was to go back to my old life.

So, when the teacher gave us the assignment to write an essay about our perfect school, I didn’t have to imagine it, I had just left it.

I poured my heart and soul into that essay. I wrote it without any filters, just spilled my guts onto those pages.

My teacher was thrilled. She gave me not a 5 (A in the Croatian school system), but a 5+ (which didn’t even exist in our grading system, but okay). She was so moved that she wanted me to read it out loud in front of the whole class.

I wanted to die. But I also wanted to read it. Because I was finally being heard and acknowledged. And I thought my story mattered.

So I read it. My voice was shaking so much, and I remember one classmate asking as I stood up, “Are you going to cry?”

“No,” I said.

And I didn’t. I just read the most honest thing I had ever written.

And this was the moment that I will always remember, because for the first time, I felt that the words I had read and written belonged to me. And that’s why my voice shook. And that’s why I wanted to read it despite the fear. And that’s why it earned me 5+.

And nothing can beat that feeling.

But I get how tempting it is to reach for AI when you don’t feel confident. When you are going over the draft for the 78th time (like I’m doing now, lol). And yeah, maybe there’s nothing wrong with that. As long as we are honest. Not just to your readers, but to ourselves.

So, if you’re wondering where the line is between your voice and the machine, maybe don’t look at percentages. Look at how it feels.

Would you read it out loud and be proud? Would your voice shake a little? Would you stand by it and call it yours?

But maybe this whole debate is pointless without first answering one question:

Do we care?

As readers, do we care if the person who lived or came up with the story is also the one who wrote it?

As writers, do we care enough to tell it ourselves? And if we don’t, is it fair to call ourselves writers?

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Keeping in mind the power of supporting each other, here are three posts from other writers that genuinely inspired me lately. I hope they spark something in you, too.

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