A few months ago, the New York Times reported: Shy Girl appears to be the first commercial novel from a major publishing house to pulled based on evidence of AI use.*
Which raises the question—what level of AI use is acceptable for creative writing?
From my perspective, the boundaries of acceptable AI use in creative writing are clear. I believe utilizing AI to develop a story outlines is entirely permissible, as it helps organize ideas and structure the narrative. Similarly, employing AI for editing and proofreading ensures clarity and correctness without compromising the author’s voice.
I frequently rely on AI to rate and review my stories, seeking constructive suggestions for improvement. This collaborative approach not only streamlines revisions but also elevates the quality of my content.
Ultimately, I feel that employing AI offers significant advantages by delivering timely information and facilitating thoughtful feedback throughout the creative journey.
Conducting research for a story or book with the assistance of AI is both efficient and practical, providing quick access to relevant information and supporting the writing process.
In the past month alone, I’ve asked AI about the typical temperature in Providence, Rhode Island, and if there’s a unique British term for refrigerator, as well as the atmosphere of the Distillery District in Toronto. Oh, and how a proper Victorian-era lady would curse (because you know she’s not dropping an f-bomb even though you really, really want her to).
I’ll also admit that I create practically all of my images using various AI tools. I mean, how else am I supposed to make book covers, pictures, and other pretty things? I’m not a graphic designer, nor can I afford to hire one!
So are the things I’ve listed above considered “acceptable” use cases?
I certainly think so but would the majority of folks who write for a living agree? Frankly, I don’t care either way because much like the idea of writing is deeply personal, so too is the way in which we actually do it.
I liken it to choosing how you physically create your work. Some writers take a purist approach—tap, tap, tapping out a manuscript on a manual typewriter—while others draft on desktops, laptops, or, like myself, even a purple iPad mini. The tool doesn’t make the writing more or less authentic; the author does.
Perhaps a better analogy would be to think of AI like a sous-chef: it can suggest ingredients, rearrange recipes, and offer shortcuts, but the head chef—the writer—still decides the menu, the flavor, and the final dish.
I fully recognize that others may set their boundaries differently, perhaps allowing AI a more active role in the creative process or restricting its use even further. The key, I believe, lies in each writer’s comfort with technology and respect for their own creative integrity—striking a balance that supports inspiration without overshadowing the unique voice and vision that make storytelling truly personal.
And personally, I don’t mind reading content created with artificial intelligence, and here’s why—because there’s always someone behind the scenes providing the AI with the information needed to craft the work. Somewhere, a human has contributed ideas for creating a specific story. If the story itself is good, I don’t really mind how it was made. That said, I want to be very clear: it’s never okay to let AI handle all your content and then claim it was entirely written by you.
As AI reshapes the creative landscape, writers should remain clear about their intentions and desired outcomes. New tools can bring fresh perspectives and speed, but grounding your work in personal expression keeps the story’s core genuine.
By deliberately deciding when and how to collaborate with AI, you can protect narrative authenticity while still leveraging technology—letting creativity and innovation enhance each other.
* I’m not normally a conspiracy theorist, and I fully understand this is me being a bit cynical, but what if this is all just a marketing stunt to drum up interest in the book? I’d love to read this story now, whereas before the scandal, I probably wouldn’t have been bothered. And I’m sure I’m not alone in that there are plenty of other folks who probably feel the same!
Yes, it comes at a cost to the author, but it’s almost guaranteed to be a bestseller, which equals a lot of money for the publisher, as well as the writer. To be sure, neither would ever admit to doing anything like this, but it’s not like it is an impossible scenario. Something to consider.
