Chapter 12
The Future of Creativity: Human Expression in the Social Age
1.
Something is happening right now that is hard to explain. I chose to explore this thought with pencil and paper because they are among the oldest tools for self-expression. I could write this essay on my computer or smartphone, but I chose to scribble these words the old-fashioned way: one tedious letter after another. Why? Because every writing tool I use—from Grammarly to Microsoft Word—has added, or will add, artificial intelligence and generative AI.
Looking back at the previous sentence, I wonder whether my use of “them” is accurate. Isn't Microsoft Word an “it” because “it” is a thing, not a living one? If you referred to a rock as “they,” people would think you lost your damn mind. However, if a 5-year-old told you that “they” were shy and “they” referred to a colorfully painted and decorated rock that sat on the kitchen table and looked back at you with those dead but cute googly eyes, you might kindly ask them—the child, not the rock—if they have a name.
We know that the rock is dead or non-living, at least, and the child is alive. We know the child is using their imagination and creativity, and that it's not our job at that moment to correct the child (or murder their rock with science and logic); our job is to enter the child's world and play along. We might say with a straight face, “It's OK to be shy, Little Rock. I get shy around new people, sometimes too. What's your name?” Forgive me: I imagine in this unfolding world of make-believe that adults talk to children like Mister Rogers or Barny the Dinosaur used to do on PBS. With any luck, the first thing that spills out of the child's mouth is the rock's name, and if the second thing that comes out is a backstory, then you have entered the world of make-believe, or could be, which is the foundation of creative writing and powerful storytelling. You have also entered the territory of Pixar, Illumination, and DreamWorks Animation—the imaginative worlds where talking toys, bugs, monsters, fish, cars, dogs, minions, and emotions exist.
2.
Today's kids, and many of us newly minted, thirty-something adults, grew up in a world where it wasn't impossible, or even unlikely, to spend 90 minutes watching a movie about a pet rock that came alive, started talking, and became a child's best friend. What would it take for this story's seed to grow into something bigger—something that motivates millions to follow along and watch the movie? Maybe the pet rock needs the child's help to return to the world of rock people and fight off their paper-and-scissor overlords, who have united to take over the Rock Kingdom because they are sick of getting ripped and broken in the Rock, Paper, Scissors tournament. Maybe the child lives on a farmstead in Iowa, and their parents often leave them alone while they harvest wheat and train horses. So the pet rock becomes a parental figure, encouraging the child to pursue their dream of becoming a geologist, explaining the different types of rocks and how they got to Des Moines, Iowa, via a large glacier.
The first idea I outlined sounds like a movie that might get kicked around in a Pixar meeting. The second could be a short series on Iowa Public TV‘s YouTube channel. I could take these rock stories a step further and tell you about the pet rock that likes to get stoned too much, and the child must help them overcome their drug addiction, but let us quit while we are ahead. Let us get into the business of connecting these seemingly disparate ideas and discuss the future of creative expression, artificial intelligence, and the future of the Internet— or whatever we choose to call the thing being remade—rewritten—before our eyes.
Once Microsoft introduces “Copilot,” an AI-powered assistant, to a global audience in Word, it could mark the beginning of something massive—a force that changes what it means to be a writer.
It could end the blank page, the blinking cursor, and start a creative, productive age fueled by the convergence of human imagination and artificial intelligence. It is what happens when you can talk to a computer and “it” or “they” talk back, and they can instantly answer any question that you can imagine in any format that you choose, and it can talk to you like a 5-year-old if you ask nicely.
3.
So what? That is the central question that all great writing seeks to answer. Why should you care about what I am saying? What future does this make possible? To get there, we need to talk more about pet rocks, the human imagination, and the evolution of social media. We need to review what is happening now, so we can understand what will come at us like a freight train in the coming years and unleash a global creative renaissance unlike any other.
Let us imagine that our imaginative 5-year-old is 13, so they are legally allowed to use social media and share their creativity with the world. I also want to name this person Emma.
If Emma wanted to create compelling visuals for her pet rock story, she could type a description into Midjourney or DALL·E 2. She doesn't need to learn to draw talking rocks or use Adobe Illustrator to create the story’s visuals. All she needs is a creative vision and personal taste. I can already see a decorated pet rock wielding a mighty sword against a paper foe folded into a tank, a plain shape, or an origami crane. Emma could use ChatGPT to learn about different rock types and their traits, imagining igneous rocks have volcanic tempers because they formed from lava flows, and use that information to develop character traits, as I did.
Sure, Emma could write a prompt, and ChatGPT could write the entire story for her. Still, she knows that content creators who make a name for themselves go viral frequently and build a bigger online following when they develop original ideas. They also involve their fans in the creative process.
Besides, no one wants to read 100% AI-generated text because it feels cold and robotic. No matter the prompt or style, it still sounds fake until she adds her personal touch.
OK, so let us unpack the notion of “personal touch.” What do those words mean in creative work? Emma can use Grammarly to edit and improve her writing, and she can highlight any sentence and have Wordtune, another AI tool, rewrite and expand it in dozens of ways. All of these edits and revisions represent the thousands of tiny choices or personal touches she makes to her work. It makes the sentence I wrote original rather than plagiarized or AI-generated. The word choice and sequence make that sentence my own unique creation because I wrote it in my editorial voice, one I have been developing online and offline ever since I learned to sing my ABCs in grade school.
4.
The building blocks of creative writing are characters and plotlines, people who experience things and make choices within a world or universe that exists on the page and in our minds. Hogwarts once existed in JK Rowlings' mind; word by word, she invented Harry Potter and a school for young wizards. Once you read The Sorcerer's Stone, a version of the character and world is created inside your head and becomes a place you can escape to at any time.
So what is the difference between Rowling's wizarding world of Harry Potter and Emma's hidden universe of talking rocks? I would argue that it's audience size and market reach. Emma could be a creative genius in Iowa, but without a following and the ability to reach them, her work will never be seen beyond her family, friends, and strangers on the Internet. That last part, though, has changed drastically in the past six years thanks to TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, and others. The magical and maddening algorithms that power these services' main feeds connect anyone's content to a global audience. No one has to wait around to be scored and chosen by a book publisher or record label. The infinite stream of content pouring out of these services is a winner-take-all market where anyone can play. The Emmas and Noahs of the world can reach a global audience through their smartphone; they can invite anyone into their imagined universe through social media at little cost.
The wild part is that self-publishing tools have existed for over a decade, and they're being disrupted. If ChatGPT can write deployable Python code, it can convert written text into a digital book. Midjourney could create the cover. It's only a matter of time before ChatGPT figures out how to distribute the book to Amazon, but honestly, it could probably code a basic landing page and digital checkout linked to a bank.
After all, we are talking about the basics of e-commerce, not rocket science in a lab.
ChatGPT could also help you brainstorm a marketing plan, and one day it could execute specific project steps for you, like writing copy, scheduling posts, and customizing content for each platform. Heck, I already have an AI app on my smartphone that allows me to dictate words with my voice, and it can turn them into 20 different kinds of content in seconds. My head started spinning the first time I voice-dictated 798 words about the future of music streaming, which created a perfectly edited LinkedIn post and Twitter thread for me. All I had to do was click copy and paste. Yes, it helped that I already talk like a writer, but it's impressive.
As such, I do not see anything stopping Iowa Emma, or anyone else, from doing the same thing in the social age. The barriers to production and distribution have been lowered or eliminated. The tools of creative expression have been democratized. The Internet platform allows anyone to build their personal brand and share their unique voice.
5.
I hope I've convinced you that a human wrote this essay, not ChatGPT or other AI-powered tools. In this piece, I code-switched between personal essays, news reporting, and fictional narratives, even when the shifts were abrupt or imperfect, because I wanted to prove I could do what AI could not. I want to believe in my bones that this moment is the beginning of writing, not the ending. This transformational moment may be the future of the Internet, the web, social network, or global village, as media theorist Marshall McLuhan describes the phenomenon.
By now, you may have already predicted where this essay is going. I believe writing, generating, and publishing tools will merge into one service and eventually become standard features on every connected device; like Shazam, once an app people had to download, it was acquired and is now part of Siri. One day, plugins will check the authenticity and originality of everything you read online. Those who develop an authentic and original voice will stand out from AI content.
Blogs empowered anyone to publish their thoughts online without pitching a publication and being deemed worthy of having a voice. Podcasts enabled anyone to record their voice and create a show without stepping into a radio station. And YouTube let anyone with a webcam film themselves, or anyone else, and start a channel without consulting the local TV station or Dish Network. Social networks and messenger services have let family members and friends stay connected across great distances; they also let us share photos with ease, some of which last for years, and others disappear within seconds.
A golden age of human creativity and expression is upon us. Generative media lets each of us become a powerful storyteller. Some people will write memoirs and share memories with their future generations, hoping to preserve their legacy. Others will use the tools to write copy that sells products and makes money. What excites me, though, is the potential for people to share their interests and passions with the world, whether that means writing about indie music or deep space. Personally, I cannot wait for the moment when Emma from Iowa or Antika from India sends me their Rock, Paper, Scissors comic, film, or some combination we haven't invented yet. If you’re still waiting for permission to be creative and share your story, here you go. Write the words that you want to exist. Share the story of your first kiss.