AI in Book Writing: Balancing Efficiency and Craftsmanship

Unironically written with the help and support of ChatGPT

In an era defined by speed and technology, artificial intelligence is making its mark on the world of books. AI-written chapters, even entire novels, are no longer science fiction but a growing reality. This surge of algorithmic storytelling promises faster, cheaper content creation – yet it also raises questions about the soul of storytelling. Are we building literary skyscrapers at the expense of cathedral-like craftsmanship? This open-ended exploration looks at AI’s role in book writing, weighing its benefits against the tension between speed and quality. Along the way, we’ll hear from writers and technologists, examine historical lessons about efficiency vs. artistry, and even take inspiration from London’s contrasting skyline – from the modern Shard to medieval Westminster Abbey – as a metaphor for the changing landscape of literature.

The Rapid Rise of AI-Generated Literature

AI is writing more of what we read than ever before. In early 2023, over 200 e-books on Amazon’s Kindle store openly listed ChatGPT as an author or co-author – a number climbing by the day. And that’s just the disclosed cases; many writers don’t reveal AI assistance, so the true count is likely higher. Science fiction magazine Clarkesworld saw an unprecedented flood of AI-written story submissions – 500 out of 1,200 entries in one month – forcing it to shut its doors to new writers (at least temporarily). These bots can churn out content at a keystroke, leading Amazon to even cap self-published titles to 3 per day to curb a wave of AI-generated books. theguardian.com. The data below highlights how quickly AI is entering publishing:

• Hundreds of AI books on Amazon: By Feb 2023, at least 200 titles listed ChatGPT as author/co-author. (Many more likely use AI behind the scenes.)

• Few authors admit to AI writing: A mid-2023 survey found under 10% of U.S. authors used AI to generate text for their work (though more use it for brainstorming or editing).

• Authors bracing for change: 70% of authors believe publishers will start using AI for books “partially or in full,” eliminating the human element entirely.

• Job impacts visible: In one UK survey, 36% of book translators and 26% of illustrators reported losing work to AI tools – an early sign of the disruption hitting creative roles.

The appeal driving this trend is clear: AI can write at machine speed, never tires, and doesn’t demand royalties. A would-be author with no experience can now generate a decent draft in hours. For instance, a salesman in New York used ChatGPT to create a 30-page children’s book in a single afternoon, something he never imagined possible before. “The idea of writing a book finally seemed possible,” he said, describing how AI made him think “I can do this.”​ reuters.com

Armed with AI, many newcomers are self-publishing stories as side projects or “side hustles.” As Clarkesworld’s editor noted, the glut of AI-written submissions is fueled by online hustle culture encouraging people to crank out books for quick income. In short, AI is democratizing who gets to be a writer– breaking down barriers to entry – but also filling the marketplace with an unprecedented volume of content.

When Speed Meets Story: AI vs. Human Storytelling

Despite AI’s newfound productivity, a core question lingers: Can AI-generated literature compare to human storytelling? Speed is an obvious advantage – an AI can draft in seconds what might take an author months – but what about depth, originality, and emotional resonance?

There have been intriguing experiments pitting AI against human authors. In Japan, a short novel co-written by an AI program passed the first round of a national literary contest in 2016. Titled “The Day a Computer Writes a Novel,” the AI-authored story fooled judges enough to compete with human-written entries. One judge praised it as a “well-structured novel,” though ultimately it didn’t surpass the human competition in later rounds. This example shows that AI can now produce coherent, structured narratives – potentially even award contenders – especially with human guidance and editing.

On the other hand, critics often find AI writing too formulaic or shallow. Early forays by news outlets into AI-written articles backfired: when CNET tried using AI for tech news, the result was a series of pieces that required multiple corrections and even apparent plagiarism fixes. Clarkesworld’s editor, after wading through hundreds of AI-submitted stories, bluntly stated that the quality was “very poor.” Even the Japanese AI novel, while impressive, was noted to have “some problems to overcome” before it could win against top human writers. AI has a tendency to imitate patterns it learned from existing works, which can lead to clichés or lack of authentic voice.

Human storytellers bring intangible qualities to literature: lived experience, imagination fueled by emotion, and intentional creativity. A machine can mash up tropes from millions of books, but it doesn’t “write what it knows” in the way a person does. As writer Megan Herbert observed, “we’re a narrative species” that turns to stories to feel seen and connect with others beyond pure entertainment. The concern many have is that AI writing, however competent, might feel like an imitation game – technically proficient yet missing the spark of life that makes a story stick with you. A bedtime story generated by a bot might hit all the plot points, but will it make a child laugh or cry in the same way as one crafted from a human heart?

That said, AI’s storytelling is improving rapidly, and with skilled human editing, the gap can close. Some authors experiment with AI as a collaborator, not a replacement. AI can suggest a plot twist or describe a scene in rich detail on command. For a novelist with writer’s block, this is like having a tireless brainstorming partner. Tech journalist and novelist Vauhini Vara found that using an AI tool to help write about a deeply personal topic (her sister’s death) actually surfaced some of her best writing by giving her unexpected words to react to​. latimes.com

In such cases, the AI becomes a muse– providing ideas that the human author then refines and infuses with meaning. This kind of collaboration hints at a middle ground where efficiency and quality might coexist: AI handles the grunt work or generates many options, and the writer applies judgment, empathy, and creativity to elevate the final story.

Voices from the Writing World: Hope, Fear, and Skepticism

Opinions on AI’s impact in literature vary widely among writers, critics, and AI creators. Here’s a look at some perspectives:

• Writers’ Anxiety: Many authors are deeply uneasy, seeing AI as a threat to their livelihood and the art form. A survey by the Authors Guild found 7 in 10 authors expect AI to be used by publishers to draft manuscripts – essentially cutting writers out of the process. Novelist Megan Herbert likened the advent of ChatGPT to a “death knell” for writers, fearing a future where audiences don’t care if a story was written by a human or an algorithm. This anxiety is fueled by real events: authors have discovered AI-generated knock-offs of their books on Amazon, and groups of writers have sued AI companies for training on their copyrighted text​. latimes.com

• There’s a palpable fear that AI could flood the market with cookie-cutter novels, “degrading” the overall quality of literature (as one critic put it), and making it even harder for human authors to earn a living.

• Critics’ Skepticism: Some literary figures remain unimpressed by AI’s creative abilities – at least for now. Veteran literary agent Andrew Wylie has dismissed AI’s effect on the serious literature he represents, claiming that only “bad, popular books” would be easily replicated by machines. In other words, formulaic genre fiction might be within AI’s reach, but truly original prose and profound narratives, in this view, require a human touch that algorithms can’t match. Other skeptics note that storytelling is more than stringing sentences together – it’s about theme, subtext, and cultural context, areas where AI might stumble. As Stephen King (whose novels were used to train AI) mused, creativity requires sentience – without a living mind that cares, can an AI ever really create as humans do? The jury is out, but skeptics urge us not to confuse a well-structured AI story with great art.

• AI Developers’ Optimism: Those building the storytelling AIs often emphasize potential over peril. Hitoshi Matsubara, who led the team behind the AI-written Japanese novella, said he wants to “expand AI’s potential [so it resembles] human creativity.” AI researchers see these systems as tools that, with the right guidance, could augment human creativity. Rather than replace authors, they imagine AI as a new kind of co-author or creative assistant. For example, the founders of Sudowrite (an AI writing assistant) argue that their tool helps writers get past blocks and explore ideas faster, not churn out vapid books at scale. Even among tech leaders, there’s acknowledgement that AI works best with human oversight. One AI expert suggested that writing jobs will not vanish but shift: “Machines will always need people to control them… the job will become more like editing and supervising machines.” In this view, a future author might spend less time drafting every word and more time curating, training, and polishing AI-generated prose to achieve the desired result. This could open up new forms of storytelling – interactive, personalized narratives – while still keeping humans in charge of the creative vision.

The conversation is evolving daily. Some days bring news of yet another “AI-written” bestseller or viral poem; other days bring backlash, like a prestigious magazine banning AI submissions or publishers pledging to protect human authorship. Amid the debate, one thing is clear: we’re in a period of transition, where the norms of storytelling are being renegotiated. And whenever art and automation collide, it’s worth looking to the past for clues to the future.

Craftsmanship vs. Efficiency: Lessons from History

The tension between fast, mass-produced content and slow, handcrafted art isn’t new. History offers striking parallels that can help frame the AI literature debate. One example is the 19th-century Arts and Crafts movement, which arose in response to the Industrial Revolution. At a time when factories could churn out furniture and decor quickly and cheaply, artists like William Morris rebelled against what they saw as soulless mass production. The Arts and Crafts movement “championed decoration and beauty” and a return to meticulous handcrafting, pushing back against the era’s obsession with speed and quantity. They argued that true quality required time, attention, and human touch – a clear analogue to today’s writers concerned that algorithmic speed could undermine literary quality.

Literature has seen its own cycles of resistance to “assembly-line” art. Think of the Modernist authors of the early 20th century, who experimented with style and depth (from stream-of-consciousness narratives to complex symbolism), partly as a reaction against formulaic Victorian novels. They valued originality and profundity over formula. In a sense, they treated novels like cathedrals, to be painstakingly built, not cranked out. Today, one might ask: is an AI writing formulaic chapters the ultimate industrialization of storytelling? And will we see a new movement of writers emphasizing ultra-personal, idiosyncratic works as a countertrend?

London’s skyline offers a visual metaphor for the debate between efficiency and craft. In this image, the Gothic clock tower of Big Ben and the illuminated Houses of Parliament stand in the foreground, while in the distance the gleaming spire of The Shard skyscraper pierces the night sky. The old and the new coexist, yet their beauty is of different kinds. Big Ben’s tower (part of Westminster Palace) was completed in 1859 after 16 years of construction​, every stone intricately carved in the Perpendicular Gothic style​. Nearby, Westminster Abbeytook even longer – built and enhanced overcenturies(construction began in 1245, with additions like its iconic West Towers not finished until 1745)​ – resulting in a stunning patchwork of medieval craftsmanship.

By contrast, The Shard, London’s tallest building, rose at record speed: it went from groundbreaking in 2009 to opening in 2013 ,just four years later, thanks to modern engineering​. london.fandom.com The Shard’s sleek glass form was designed for efficiency and impact, not ornate detail.

In storytelling terms, the Shard is like a novel generated in a month – polished on the surface and impressive in scale, but perhaps not adorned with layers of nuance. The Abbey and Big Ben are like classic novels shaped over a long period – rich with detail, the product of careful revision and personal vision, the kind of works that stand the test of time. This isn’t to say old equals good and new equals bad; the Shard is admired by many for its modern beauty, just as a swiftly written book can still delight readers. But the contrast in process is key: time and attention leave their marks on art and architecture. A question for our AI age is whether speeding up the process (as AI allows) will strip away some of that crafted beauty, or whether we can find a balance so that efficiency doesn’t come at the cost of soul.

Historically, new technologies in art often prompted backlash from purists – yet eventually, a fusion emerged. The camera didn’t kill painting; instead, painting moved toward expressionism and abstraction while photography became its own art form. Perhaps we’ll see something similar: human authors might focus more on the kinds of storytelling AI can’t do well (yet), while embracing AI for what it can enhance. The interplay of efficiency and craftsmanship could even inspire new genres – maybe interactive AI-generated narratives supervised by authors, or hybrid works where a human-written memoir includes AI-augmented dream sequences, for example. The possibilities are intriguing, but realizing them without losing what we love about literature will require conscious effort.

New Voices, New Stories: AI as a Storytelling Democratizer

One undeniable upside of AI in writing is the empowerment of new voices. People who might never have thought of themselves as authors can now create stories with a bit of AI help. The children’s book author mentioned earlier is a prime example – a salesperson with a story idea but limited time or writing skill, suddenly able to publish a book after work using ChatGPT. AI can act as an equalizer, lowering barriers like language fluency or formal training. A non-native English speaker with a great story could draft it in their own language and use AI to translate or polish the prose. Someone with dyslexia or a physical disability that makes writing laborious could dictate ideas to an AI and see them turned into neatly formatted text. In the realm of storytelling, these tools like ClioBooks.ai can be ramps where there were stairs – providing broader accessibility to the act of writing.

There’s also the potential for greater diversity of stories. Traditional publishing has gatekeepers and economic constraints; not everyone gets a book deal. But with AI and self-publishing, a hobbyist in a remote town can release their unique science fiction tale on Amazon without needing a Manhattan editor’s approval. We may get stories from perspectives that were underrepresented in mainstream publishing, precisely because AI helped someone with a fresh viewpoint get their foot in the door. In fact, the technology has already enabled a sort of grassroots explosion of content. Niche genres, fan fiction, personal memoirs – all can flourish when you don’t need a big budget or a team of editors to produce a readable book.

Of course, more voices means more volume, which has its challenges. Readers might have to sift through a lot of mediocre AI-penned books to find the gems. In a world where anyone can publish in six months or less “from their bedroom”, discoverability and quality control become concerns. Yet, this democratization is akin to what blogging did to journalism or YouTube did to video: it opens the field to innovation. Some voices that couldn’t break into the old system will resonate with audiences in the new one. We might see experimental storytelling formats, cross-genre mashups, or culturally specific tales that big publishers used to shy away from – now finding their readers through AI-assisted creation and internet distribution.

The key will be maintaining quality and authenticity even as quantity grows. Community reviews, new literary awards for AI-assisted works, and ethical guidelines (like requiring disclosure of AI usage) are all being discussed as ways to manage this influx. But the upside is real: AI can help more people tell their stories, and there’s a profound positive in that. Human imagination is not a zero-sum resource; the more stories we have, the richer our cultural tapestry – provided we can still find the ones that truly move us.

An Open-Ended Chapter: What Will AI Mean for Creativity?

As we conclude this exploration, we arrive at more questions than answers – which is fitting, because we are in the early chapters of AI’s role in literature. Is AI a threat to the art of novel writing, or a tool that will liberate writers from drudgery? Will our future classics be largely human-crafted, or will we embrace works where it’s frankly hard to tell who (or what) wrote each sentence? There is a spectrum of possibilities. We might imagine one future where books become more like fast fashion – trendy, plentiful, disposable, pumped out by algorithms to cater to every niche taste. We can also imagine a different future where human creativity becomes even more prized – precisely because machines can do the basic stuff, audiences may seek out the rare, the deeply personal, the unmistakably human voice for their meaningful reading experiences.

London’s architectural landscape, with its harmonious mix of old and new, hints that coexistence is possible. The Shard and Westminster Abbey serve different needs and aesthetics, yet together they make the city skyline more interesting. Perhaps in storytelling, AI-generated tales and traditional novels will simply occupy different niches. A light beach read or a game-like interactive story might be AI-authored, while a profound literary saga remains the domain of the human novelist – and each can find its readership. There will also be hybrid creations, as artists invariably experiment with the latest tools. We may get an AI-assisted epic that has the scope of a machine’s knowledge but the emotional truth of its human co-author, creating something genuinely novel.

What’s certain is that efficiency-driven thinking has already shaped our culture, and art is never immune to cultural shifts. But history shows that when faced with new technology, creators adapt: some double down on what only humans can do, others incorporate the new tools to push boundaries. Rather than a simple doom or boon, AI is a catalyst forcing us to clarify what we value in storytelling. Is it the journey of the creator that imbues a story with value, or solely the experience of the reader consuming it? Can a machine pen a story that makes us feel, or does knowing a human sweat and cried over the pages change how we feel about it? These questions don’t have easy answers.

As readers and writers, we are all part of figuring this out. Next time you read a short story or novel, you might find yourself wondering: was any of this generated by AI? In a few years, that question might not even cross your mind – or it might be printed on the copyright page. For now, we can only stay curious and critical. The goal isn’t to arrive at a hard conclusion on whether AI in writing is “good” or “bad,” but to remain engaged with how it’s unfolding. Like a novel in progress, the story of AI and literature has plenty of twists ahead. Will the final plot favor speed, soul, or something in between? It’s up to us – writers, readers, technologists, and lovers of story – to shape that narrative, one page at a time.