As I notice more and more people use chatbots like ChatGPT and Claude as replacements for human companionship, I was struck by the hollowness that this new trend is. ChatGPT is not only not anyones friend (except perhaps Sam Altman's), it cannot be anyone's friend. There is nothing there to be friends with. No one is actually answering questions, no one is giving advice. There is no one there.I am reminded of Blade Runner 2049, a world where preferring non-human companionship seems to have become just another sexual preference. Perhaps we are heading towards that world already. But we already know why a toy like ChatGPT seems attractive to those looking for companionship.As a species, our ability to recognise patterns in nature has played a vital role in the creation of civilisation. The firsthumans saw patterns in weather change and in nature and carved lifestyes out of it that gave rise to migrations, agriculture, and eating habits. But they also saw patterns in the stars and in the behaviour of animals and these gave rise to religious superstitions.I read recenty in Nicholas Carr' book The Shallows (affiliate link) that in the 1960s, Joseph Weizenbaum at MIT coded ELIZA into existence. It was software designed to talk to people like a chatbot and offer them counselling. Weizenbaum found that even small amounts of time spent with the software were enough for people to think of ELIZA as alive and intelligent and conscious. They reported that it could actually understand them. Even his own secretary, who had seen him write the code for ELIZA, fell into this mental trap.ChatGPT is much more complex pattern than ELIZA and it is not surprising that people are failing to recognise that it is just code without any mind behind it. It's not becasue people are stupid. It's because people are people.

I keep hearing the same few points from AI enthusiasts about AI use for creative work. One of these of course is that AI does exactly what the human mind does. This is false, along with a lot of other things that have become integral parts of the ongoing AI hype cycle. In this episode, I break down my point of view on the matter and also, in the second part of the episode, answer some of the comments I received on the first half.

I decided to make a short episode about the underlying scamminess of the idea that AI tools are essentially time-saving. This is doubly true for the office-goer being exploited by corporations. Because at the end of the day, no worker gains anything by saving time. If one becomes capable of doing a day's work in an hour, they don't get the rest of the day off. In fact, it probably means the exact opposite - that they will be expected to do hundreds of hours worth of work now. And if they fail to do so on account of being only human, there will be yet another nicely packaged AI tool waiting to replace them.

In 1928, EM Forster published a short story called The Machine Stops. It featured a future where humankind survives underground and at the mercy of a system known simply as 'The Machine'. In this world, humans have outsourced all essential tasks, including the task of maintaining and repairing the machine, to the Machine.And then one day, as the title says, the Machine stops, and a society that has grown fully reliant on it, meets its end whispering "Oh Machine! Oh Machine!".I have been looking at AI adoption over the last couple of years, and noticing that every few days, news comes in of us outsourcing tasks as basic as reading, understanding, writing, and speaking to generative AI tools. In this Hindi language episode, I talk about how it has begun to feel like the machine has begun stopping. ReferencesThe Machine Stops, and other stories by E.M. Forster (affiliate link)American teacher quits, says kids don't want to readTV interview video of teacher who quit her jobEveryone is cheating through college using GenAIJoint study by OpenAI and MIT Media lab finds signs of addiction among ChatGPT usersAI use damages professional reputation, study suggestsI use affiliate links on this website. If you click and make a purchase, I may earn a commission. This helps support my work at no additional cost to you. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.

There are two types of writers. There are plotters and there are pantsers.Pantsers are people who pull people's pants down and plotters are people who have been wronged by pantsers and they plot their death. I am kidding of course and that's kind of the point because when I started this video I was going to say something else which should tell you everything you need to know about my writing style. I am a pantser and I make it sound like a confession but my point is when people ask me for writing advice they're usually looking for the kind of advice that a plotter can provide you like plan your novel, outline it, think about characters, build your world. And in most cases I have done all that by the way—it works. Obviously these are sound tactics.But the problem with me is that even though that all works for me, what works even better for me is a much simpler process. So a plotter will tell you that the step-by-step thing is: write your synopsis, write your outline, then begin your novel, write your chapters, do not deviate from your outline—or, you know, deviate as little as possible so that you remain within the bounds of where the story can go. And while you're writing it take care of these things and those things and these things and those things.My process is: step one, open the laptop; step two, open the word processor; step three, start typing. That's it. I am a pantser. And for a long time I used to struggle with accepting this because I saw all the people out there who are giving writing advice talking about, you know, there is a right way to write and there is a proper way to do it and you should plan things out and workshop things.And my process has always been that I get an idea, I have a vague feeling—or rather a taste—of what it feels like and I start typing, trying to bring that taste to life. And what I end up writing is shit because obviously what was in my head felt better and when I write it, it turns out to be terrible. And then I edit it. So my process is: add another step to it. I sit down and start typing and when I'm done typing, I edit what I've written.In all my years of writing this is the one thing that has become clear to me and that is that I'm not much of a plotter, I'm not much of a planner.Even though push comes to shove I can create solid outlines, but when it comes to bringing those outlines to life I hit a wall. And that is because—I don't know if I'm the first person to say this and I'm reasonably certain that I'm not—I think I heard Brandon Sanderson talk about it in one of his online lectures—if I write an outline down I feel like I have already written the story down. So writing the outline down is counterproductive for me.Because when I write a story what I'm doing is that I'm experiencing the joy of expressing those ideas for the first time and that is more than half the drive that takes me through the story. I know that there are people who outline with various degrees of intensity. Some people write an outline like it's one page and there are seven bullet points. Some people write entire pages for every single point of the outline. They write a blow-by-blow account of what is going to happen in each chapter.I cannot for the life of me imagine being able to do that because that is not how my brain works. And this shows up in other aspects of my life also. This video for example—no script. I turn on the web camera, I sit down and I talk. When I'm done talking I look at what I've said. I remove parts of it. I remove the pauses. If I've coughed, I've removed that part. Maybe I do a little bit of editing. Maybe I add my name to the beginning of it. And then I put it up.I'm a pantser. I drive by the seat of my pants, which is where the phrase comes from by the way—no plan, no script, pure joy of creation on the spot. And it works for me, which is not to say that it will work for everyone. Maybe it won't.I just wanted to put this on the record because I get requests for writing advice from a lot of people and I kind of sort of do know what to tell them but it feels like I'm giving them something that I've googled up because it's not coming from within me.For example, if you asked me about how to create a memorable character, I could tell you how to do it because I've read books about it and I have written stories with characters which are memorable to a certain degree—I don't want to brag. But when it comes to telling people how to do it, if I told people how I do it it will make no sense.The reason my character ends up being memorable is because I love that character. And I express my love of that character while I'm writing that character into existence in the form of a story that I am making up as I go along. Fiction is made up stuff. It's all made up anyway.I seem to remember some years ago George R. R. Martin was saying: "Okay, stop asking me about who the people are who live on that island several thousand miles away from the west coast in the east. I wasn't really thinking that much when I made the map. You guys have become detectives and go deep into it. I don't take it as seriously as you do."The joy of pantsing, the joy of writing by the seat of your pants, is that you discover your story. It's almost like reading. It's almost like if you're reading a novel, you find out what is happening. I experience that thing before you do. It's as simple as that. And I do it while I'm writing the story. Sometimes I won't know what the character is going to do next and I keep typing and I find out what the character does. The character does it himself. It's almost like I'm not really creating the thing—it is just flowing through me from some other source.Now I'm an atheist so I don't believe in God or supernatural entities. So I will have to conclude that it's that trick of my mind where my brain is creating stuff on the subconscious level and my conscious mind is unable to completely comprehend how that is happening. And frankly, it doesn't give a shit. Because what matters is that the story ends up being on the page in a readable enough format.None of this of course means that I don't need a plan. It just means that that plan is in my head. I'm like Indiana Jones—I go attack the enemy and someone asks me: "Do you have a plan?" And I'm like: "I'll figure it out." Yeah, I'm that guy. Pantsers are those guys.The problem with pantsing is that sometimes while I'm writing I will run into a problem and I won't be able to tell what the problem is. For someone who has a written down outline, they can look at the outline and say: "Okay, I understand what problem this is because I deviated from my plan. I had a plan and I didn't go according to it. Therefore, this problem has a horizon. All I need to do is get back on the road."With me, there is no road. The plotter, the planner, is on a road. They have a map. They know where they are going. I am running blind in a forest. So when I hit a wall I don't know what to do because I can't see anything anyway. And I have to fumble around and find my way around the wall, which sometimes ends up making the story very interesting. But that's the final product. The process of writing—when I hit a wall—it leads to weeks of confusion. It almost leads to: hey, maybe I should have a map. Maybe I do need a plan.And when a project that has been pantsed into existence is forced into a plot halfway after the writing began, things kind of get weird. Things get so weird that the final product looks like it was written by two people.Now, none of this is writing advice. I'm not giving anyone the advice that you should be a plotter or a pantser. I'm simply confessing that I'm a pantser and that the greatest pieces of writing I did in my life were after I accepted that I'm a pantser. After I accepted that I'm not someone trained in a dojo. That I do my best work when I'm fighting freestyle.So that is what this was about. I don't know why I made it. It's 9:15 pm. I almost never record a video at this time. But I am. See you next time.