The life of a creative purist in an AI world
The creative life is hard, always has been and always will be. Today, technology rubs digitized, AI-generated salt into the bruised egos and wounded pride of the steadfast writers, artisans, and free minds who see colors that are not html-compliant. The hurt is real. Even though the assailants are faceless consumers, near-sighted corporate jesters, and nano-brained algorithms, this attack on creative individuality is rampant--and dangerous. Excuse me while I cry. Our world is becoming generic, unaccepting of original thinkers or doers. To be fit for distribution and consumption, ideas must be simplistic, easily duplicated, conveniently boxed, and consumed in small gulps. It’s a mocha, Times New Roman, recyclable, assemble-with-an-Allen-wrench, photoshopped world. If you’re not swipe-worthy, forget it. For me, creative expression comes through words. I am a self-proclaimed storyteller extraordinaire. With a degree in Journalism, I have enjoyed a successful 30-year career writi...