So. Relatable!! That feeling of discovering your own authentic voice and words, and your voice shaking as you read them out loud? I love how you wove together your personal story with a thoughtful exploration of where we’re at with AI. And the further reading at the bottom sent me on a Substack reading binge 😆
Yeeey, glad you liked it. And so happy you checked the other pieces too...I often get inspiration for my posts when reading other people's work here. So much good stuff to read!
What a beautiful piece to read 📚... I love it because it made me reflecting Mt writing. What I like most is the question whether I was confident enough to read it out loud.
Your question, “When does a story stop being ours?” reminded me immediately of the classic philosophical puzzle known as the Ship of Theseus.
The Puzzle:
Imagine a ship, originally owned by the mythical hero Theseus, that is preserved in a museum. Over time, its wooden parts begin to rot, and each piece is replaced with an identical new one. Eventually, every single part of the ship has been replaced.
The question is:
Is it still the same ship?
And to complicate things further:
Suppose someone gathers all the original, discarded parts and reassembles them into a ship.
Which one is the real Ship of Theseus now?
Now, imagine replacing each plank not on a ship, but in your writing. The metaphor suddenly feels startlingly personal.
The Core Analogy:
When you use AI to help write something, say, an essay, a poem, or a report, you might start with your own draft and then gradually revise it with AI suggestions. Over time, you might replace sentence after sentence, paragraph after paragraph.
For me, the question becomes:
If your entire draft is revised piece by piece through AI suggestions, what remains of your authorship?
Key Questions This Raises:
1. Authorship: If AI rewrites most of your text, are you still the author? Or is it a collaboration?
2. Intent vs. Execution: If the core ideas are yours but the wording is AI-generated, does that preserve your voice as the writer?
3. Creativity and Ownership: How much change can occur before the work is no longer “yours”? Is authorship about originality, control, or contribution?
4. Transparency and Attribution: Should AI contributions be acknowledged, like co-authors or editors?
I do not have answers—only questions. But that is where the conversation begins. We are living through a pivotal moment, a rare opportunity to shape the norms that future generations may one day inherit. As Hamilton reminds us, “History has its eyes on you.” And perhaps it is watching not just what we write, but how we choose to write it.
Wow, I love the ship story. And it's so on point. But same as you, I have more questions than answers at this point. And that's ok. The shift starts with a question!
So. Relatable!! That feeling of discovering your own authentic voice and words, and your voice shaking as you read them out loud? I love how you wove together your personal story with a thoughtful exploration of where we’re at with AI. And the further reading at the bottom sent me on a Substack reading binge 😆
Yeeey, glad you liked it. And so happy you checked the other pieces too...I often get inspiration for my posts when reading other people's work here. So much good stuff to read!
As long as you feel heard in your write-up, I believe it should be considered yours.
What a beautiful piece to read 📚... I love it because it made me reflecting Mt writing. What I like most is the question whether I was confident enough to read it out loud.
Thanks Katja! 🧡🧡
Nina,
Your question, “When does a story stop being ours?” reminded me immediately of the classic philosophical puzzle known as the Ship of Theseus.
The Puzzle:
Imagine a ship, originally owned by the mythical hero Theseus, that is preserved in a museum. Over time, its wooden parts begin to rot, and each piece is replaced with an identical new one. Eventually, every single part of the ship has been replaced.
The question is:
Is it still the same ship?
And to complicate things further:
Suppose someone gathers all the original, discarded parts and reassembles them into a ship.
Which one is the real Ship of Theseus now?
Now, imagine replacing each plank not on a ship, but in your writing. The metaphor suddenly feels startlingly personal.
The Core Analogy:
When you use AI to help write something, say, an essay, a poem, or a report, you might start with your own draft and then gradually revise it with AI suggestions. Over time, you might replace sentence after sentence, paragraph after paragraph.
For me, the question becomes:
If your entire draft is revised piece by piece through AI suggestions, what remains of your authorship?
Key Questions This Raises:
1. Authorship: If AI rewrites most of your text, are you still the author? Or is it a collaboration?
2. Intent vs. Execution: If the core ideas are yours but the wording is AI-generated, does that preserve your voice as the writer?
3. Creativity and Ownership: How much change can occur before the work is no longer “yours”? Is authorship about originality, control, or contribution?
4. Transparency and Attribution: Should AI contributions be acknowledged, like co-authors or editors?
I do not have answers—only questions. But that is where the conversation begins. We are living through a pivotal moment, a rare opportunity to shape the norms that future generations may one day inherit. As Hamilton reminds us, “History has its eyes on you.” And perhaps it is watching not just what we write, but how we choose to write it.
Wow, I love the ship story. And it's so on point. But same as you, I have more questions than answers at this point. And that's ok. The shift starts with a question!