My Lifelong Love of Writing (don't be afraid of AI Writing)

When AI arrived, I thought I was losing my voice. Instead, I found a super helpful editor.

I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember.

One of my earliest memories is sitting quietly, pencil in hand, creating characters and plots and watching them come to life on the page. I’ve always wished I could paint scenes the way some people can — brush to canvas, colour spilling into form — but that was never my gift. My stories live elsewhere. In my soul. They dance around in my mind and find their way out through words.

Writing followed me through uni, through my working life. It became the way I made sense of things. The way I explained, persuaded, processed.

And then motherhood cracked me open.

During an extended maternity leave, I found myself back at the page again — not to create stories this time, but to survive. Journalling became a lifeline as I moved through the grief of losing my first child, and the quiet, relentless anxiety of keeping my second alive and healthy during those newborn days. There was nothing wrong with him, and yet everything felt fragile. Writing held me together when my thoughts felt too loud to carry alone.

A few years passed. I returned to work. And AI had arrived — loudly.

Suddenly it was everywhere. Auto-written emails. Captions. Articles. Prompts. Tools promising to “sound human” while quietly sanding off anything that actually was.

I remember feeling sick.

Is this the new norm?Am I out of a job?What does this mean for people who love the written word?How do I reconcile this with something that has always felt sacred to me?

For a while, I resisted. Hard.

But eventually, curiosity crept in — and I started to dabble.

What I discovered surprised me.

AI wasn’t coming to steal my voice. I had to reframe and find acceptance. AI is here to help us know ourselves more clearly. 

As someone with a suspected dyslexic brain, spelling and grammar have always been friction points. My ideas move fast. My fingers don’t always keep up. I’d long dreamed of having an editor — someone who could polish without changing the heart of what I was saying.

That’s when it clicked.

AI FOR WRITERS WHO WANT TO KEEP THEIR VOICE

AI isn’t going to replace me. I need to make it work to support me.

I trained it to respect my language. My rhythm. My words. Not to rewrite, but to refine. To tidy the edges without flattening the meaning. To step in when my brain was racing ahead of my hands.

Now, I think of it like a junior editor. She’s not always right, but gosh she’s a time saver sometimes.

We can treat AI as a semi-capable assistant who fills the gaps when our energy and clarity is running thin.

Someone who catches us when my fingers can’t keep pace with busy minds. When there’s too many ideas pouring from your soul, AI is an excellent listener and organiser. 

Since then, I’ve gone deeper — training my AI agents to remember what matters to me, I train agents in all areas of my work and life, to remember important information accurately, to understand how I think, what I like and don’t like, and to meet me where I am. Together, we handle everything from editing and planning to systems and structure.

AI hasn’t robbed me of creativity.

It’s given me more room to access and use my creativity than ever before.

Maybe there’s a diagnosis for my busy chaotic brain, I’m not too interested in that, but I am interested in why now, I’m feeling more supported, productive and creative than ever before. 

My voice is still mine. My stories still come from lived experience, from grief, from love, from faith, from motherhood, from work.

The technology just helps me show up more consistently — without burning myself out or betraying what I value.

Never outsource your thinking.

Never stop creating.

But protect your energy.

And keep the human stuff human.