writing

I Will Not Give Up My Mistakes For Robots

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

I often discuss the impact of AI on creativity with Serdar. We’re both authors and in technical areas, so it’s something both personal and intimate for us. You can probably guess neither of us is happy about it – and being authors we like to discuss that often at length.

Serdar recently did a blog post on LLMs and intelligence, and it is quite worth reading like all of his work. But one thing he discusses in the post, and in our own discussions, is how LLMs use treats writing as a product. That fascinates me, because there are people who want to do creative work but don’t want to be creative – they want to push a button and get a product.

I could go on about the psychology of this – and indeed I probably will in time – but these are people who want results without making mistakes of their own. You can’t decouple creativity from mistakes, false starts, false ends, and sometimes just producing utter crap. Those aren’t problems, that’s part of creativity.

Creativity is not a linear, mechanical process, as much as we sometimes want it to be. Creativity snags on edges, creativity takes strange detours that somehow get you to the destination more effectively. I’m sure you’ve seen human made creative works that were created just a bit too mechanically, and there’s something wrong when you partake of them, a kind of metallic mental taste in your mind.

Part of this creative work is screwing up sometimes in epic ways. Actually, I’m sure if you’re any kind of creative, you’ve made some awful stuff, and trust me so have I.

Anyone who writes, draws, cosplays, and acts has a mental list of things they regret. They went out there, did the thing, published the book, went to the audition and completely and utterly whiffed it. Creativity in its unpredictable glory gives us infinite things to make and infinite ways to humiliate ourselves.

Creativity requires mistakes, and sometimes you don’t know if you’re making one until you’re done with a work. To complete a work even if it turns out to be lousy is to fully explore your ideas. So often we have to get something out if only, upon completion, to finally understand why it was a stupid idea. That’s fine, that’s what creativity is all about.

Even the journey is necessary. To wrestle with a concept. To implement it. To get it out. Every terrible novel or lousy cosplay or mediocre piece of art is a testimony that someone could get it done and learned on the way. They might not be thrilled with the result of the journey, but at least they made it.

I think this is why some trashy works and B or Z grade films fascinate me. The flawed nature reveals the author’s dreams, ambitions, and efforts. Bad as they are, there’s also a drive there you feel and relate to.

The creativity-as-product takes away all these passionate, painful, wonderful mistakes. It takes away the informative disasters and the joy of hardheaded persistence against your own good senses. It is just pushing a button and at best you become a better button-pusher, but you don’t become more creative.

To make creative work, even if you make something awful, you need to create. You need to be that author or artist. You need to grow from the experience, even if it’s painful. It is to be, i na way, a better person for what you did – even if the better person might be the one who admits “my writing is crap” and move on to something else.

Just pushing a button and pummeling the resulting writing product into a marketing-shaped form isn’t creative. No matter how well the work sells, you run the terrible chance you won’t screw up as much as you need to.

Steven Savage

Marketing Is An Infection

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

Being a creative person who hangs out with creatives, we often discuss marketing – and it’s a popular subject among us as of late. Our reactions have not been, shall we say, civil towards marketing creative work in 2024. Or probably the past decade. Or three. Or our lifetimes.

Something disturbing that has come to mind from these discussions is how marketing isn’t how we sell writing, but how we THINK of writing. If you at all try to market your work, thoughts of marketing will doubtlessly infect your work as you create it. There’s always that voice in your head that takes the books, seminars, and suggestions you’ve experienced and whispers on how to do your writing or art or whatever.

You’re not writing you’re marketing

That voice is actually a constant drumbeat in our culture and we miss how widespread it is. Personal Branding seminars, amazon marketing lessons, endless books on how to write what sells, etc. are everywhere. There’s also blatant how-to-write-for-market books like “Save The Cat” and so on. I’ve even seen it well argued that the Joseph Campbell’s contrived “momonmyth” has so intertwined in culture that it affects our media and in turn our way of promoting it.

As I’ve changed my writing to be more personal columns (like this), art (under a pen name) and small press (under a pen name, look I have many) I’ve been doing more work for myself. To not think about marketing (as much) is not only liberating, but made me see how it infected way too much of my work (and that’s a wide body of work).

It’s a subtle thing, of course. Write an extra career book to help people in the thoughts it’ll help sell my others. Way With Worlds went through many experiments, including one that made me wonder if it was easier as a promotional – when it became my flagship. I vacillated on the plots of my novels to fit various desires, patterns, etc. (honestly, probably why they weren’t quite what I wanted).

How much of my writing has been me and how much has been marketing thoughts? Marketing is an infection that we’re all suffering from.

The ads you’re sick of in your browser are just the blatant, resource-consuming, questionably-targeted, most visible manifestation of marketing Over Everything. Do so many things seem empty? Well part of that is because they’re meant to be sold not experienced. Does your own work feel like checking boxes to it sells?

Now that I’ve stepped into some more for-me creative works it’s fairly obvious how widespread the Marketing Infection is. It also makes me mourn all the things that could have been and may not be but for someone trying to write/paint by the numbers of a marketing guide.

I don’t cast aspersions on people that want to make money at creative work. In fact, trying to “figure out the system” can be its own fun challenge! But we do have to ask if it’s become too much of a driver that shapes our lives and work. We also have to ask how it shapes our choices of what we consume and do.

Because the infection is widespread.

Steven Savage

Force And Form

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

So I’ve been thinking about what to do next in my writing. I’ve had quite a few “phases” of my writing – career writer, creative writer, worldbuilding writer, etc. I feel like I should have a what’s next.

I want to write because writing is what I do. I like to write, I have the urge to write. So I know I’m going to write – this column is an example of how I can’t really stop.

However to be really fulfilling – unless you’re just playing – it seems the urge needs a form. Something to put it into, channel it into. At least for me, I can play, but I really come to life creatively with a project.

(Again play can be a project, but I think that’s got a limited lifespan before I want to do).

So as an example, here’s where I am.

Right now, I look to the work I’ve done before, what I do now under assorted pen names, and I think what I want is connection. I want to interact more with people, have dialogues, and have my creativity connect me with people.

I also have been reading and listening to columns and podcasts (often from the same people) and really enjoying the idea of “one or two people give a deep dive” on an issue. They’re personal, and the creators often invite input and commentary. There’s something about a “unique voice” that is appealing, evne when you disagree with the voice.

So I’m thinking of expanding on my columns here. Maybe take it to two a month, make them longer, more in depth, and send them out as newsletters as well. Maybe just do what I do with more discipline and focus. This way I can go into deeper exposition on creativity, technology, and culture in ways that invite people to connect with me.

I might even put some together in a book (this time for real, yes I have about a book and half I could and should use).

Will this work? No idea! I’ve got to play around with it a bit. But I’ve got the drive, I’ve got an idea, so if nothing else I have something to try out. If it fails at least it’s a specific situation I can learn from.

And I can always go back to play to see what emerges and takes.

Steven Savage