Why I’m Not Worried about AI Taking My Job (my version)

why I'm not worried about AI taking my job (AI's version)

Today’s post comes in two parts. First is my own writing. Second is AI’s version, answering the exact same prompt I gave myself. Both are fine. Neither are exceptional. But one has more personality and uniqueness. One could only be created by me. What do you think? Should I be worried about my job?

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Part 1: Why I’m Not Worried about AI Taking My Job (my version)

Raise your hand if you have heard or thought some version of this question in the last year:

“Why should I hire you and not use Chat GPT?”

It is a good question.

Why should you hire a ghostwriter when you could dump your story into AI?

Why should you hire a running coach when you can ask Chat GPT for a training plan?

Why should you purchase a nutrition guide if Chat GPT can tell you what to tweak?

Why go to the doctor when AI could give you a diagnosis?

Why get your driver’s license when AI will be driving all our cars soon enough?

Why make a friend when you could get an AI friend?

Why go to seminary when churches are turning priests into AI models to hear confession? (or not?)

Why do anything at all ever?

It is a good question.

To which I have many answers. Here are a few:

AI isn’t going to get it right every time and might make a project even more wrong (wronger?) or more confusing to begin with.

AI is feeding itself, meaning it is already becoming a cheap imitation of itself and will only further degrade (maybe). Maybe not.

AI isn’t going to give you the personal touch or the creative touch.

AI will sound like, or feel like, or be like the “A” in AI. Artificial.

If you want to write words just to write words, sure AI can do that.

But do you want to write good words? Meaningful words? Creative words? Impactful words? Words crafted into a compelling, twisty, complex narrative with drive and tension and development and resolution? AI can’t do that. If you want mediocre and sufficient, go for it. That is probably the right choice for emails and generic messages. But for the book of your heart? The story of your soul? Not so much.

A human ghostwriter cares about the author and cares about the craft of the words.

Human ghostwriters help authors position their stories, craft their narratives, and dig for the gems of purpose and meaning that will drive readers to the book. They are careful listeners and help authors figure out what needs to be done in their manuscript so it will find readers and express the author’s vision. They understand the market and the trends.

Ghostwriters help authors think, not just write.

Using AI isn’t as simple as “using AI.” Do potential authors know what prompts to give it? Do they understand LLMs? Will they be ready to edit and revise and transform what is produced? And do they want to take the time to develop those skills, or would they rather hire a great ghostwriter to do it all for them?

Yes, AI could create your book for you.

But do you want a good book? Do you want to grow as a storyteller? Do you want to produce something you will feel proud of? Do you want a marketable book?

AI helps. Good ghostwriters use a variety of AI tools.

But AI can’t replace a quality ghostwriter any more than candy corn can replace corn on the cob.

AI helps me do my job. From Grammarly to Notta to ChatGPT to Notebook LM, I am constantly asking, “How can AI help me with this?” But AI doesn’t do my job for me and isn’t about to take my job from me. Maybe eventually it will, but not yet.

Taking a theological perspective, I don’t believe AI was created with the imago dei at its core, the image of God. AI is not made in the image of God, it is made in the image of humans.

Humans were created in goodness. The first and most foundational thing about us is that we were created in goodness and imbued with the sacred dignity of the imago dei. AI was not created with goodness at its very core, as its essence.

What is AI’s essence? Maybe productivity, ease, success, money, power…I don’t know. Ask Sam Altman or Elon Musk or Jessica Livingstone.

That fundamental distinction can never be supplanted by anything built by human hands, as good and creative and innovative as they might be. And the human touch will be evident in what is created, especially when it comes to the arts: sculpture, painting, music, dance, books.

AI is a tool and one of my top goals for 2025 is to learn how to wield it wisely and productively.

How do you use AI in your work? What do you think makes your work distinctive from an AI-produced product? Are you concerned AI will take your job?

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Part 2: Why I’m Not Worried about AI Taking My Job (AI’s Version)

(created by ChatGPT, unedited)

In an increasingly digital world where artificial intelligence (AI) plays a significant role in various fields, many professionals are concerned about job security. Ghostwriters, in particular, may be wondering if AI technologies could threaten their livelihoods. However, despite the advancements in AI content generation, there are compelling reasons why ghostwriting jobs remain safe.

1. Unique Voice and Personalization

One of the primary functions of a ghostwriter is to capture a client’s unique voice, style, and message. While AI can produce text that resembles human writing, it lacks the ability to genuinely replicate the nuances of individual expression. Each author has a distinctive way of conveying ideas, a tone that resonates with their audience, and personal experiences that shape their narratives. Ghostwriters understand how to weave these elements into the fabric of a story, creating authentic content that AI simply cannot match.

2. Emotional Intelligence and Connection

Writing is not just about stringing words together; it involves tapping into emotions to create a connection with readers. A skilled ghostwriter can empathize with their clients’ audience, ensuring the content not only informs but also resonates on a personal level. AI, while capable of analyzing patterns in text, lacks genuine emotional intelligence. It cannot understand the depth of human experiences, the subtle shifts in tone, or the context behind words. This emotional disconnect can result in generic content that fails to engage readers profoundly.

3. Collaboration and Communication

Ghostwriting is inherently a collaborative process. It involves discussions with clients to understand their visions, brainstorming ideas, and refining drafts based on feedback. This dynamic exchange fosters a relationship built on trust, respect, and mutual understanding. AI cannot engage in meaningful dialogue or adjust its approach based on personal interactions. The human ability to communicate effectively and adapt to the evolving needs of clients is a fundamental aspect of ghostwriting that AI cannot replicate.

4. Creativity Beyond Algorithms

Creativity is a hallmark of effective writing. Ghostwriters are not just wordsmiths; they are storytellers who draw from their experiences, inspirations, and cultural influences to create compelling narratives. AI generates content based on patterns and existing data, which can limit its creative potential. Human artists often think outside the box, drawing on unique perspectives and insights that algorithms simply cannot replicate. This ability to innovate and think creatively is invaluable in crafting captivating stories that leave a lasting impact on readers.

5. Ethical Considerations

Ghostwriting often involves sensitive topics, personal stories, and meticulous attention to detail regarding authorship. The ethical implications of content creation require a human touch—one that considers the moral ramifications of storytelling. Ghostwriters navigate the complexities of representation, permission, and authenticity, ensuring that the stories they tell are respectful and true to their clients’ experiences. AI lacks the discernment required to handle these ethical aspects appropriately, making human ghostwriters indispensable.

Conclusion

In conclusion, while AI continues to evolve and play a role in various writing tasks, it does not have the capabilities to replace ghostwriters. The unique blend of personalization, emotional intelligence, creativity, collaboration, and ethical considerations that define ghostwriting secures the profession’s place in the literary landscape. Instead of viewing AI as a threat, ghostwriters can embrace technology as a tool that complements their skills, allowing them to focus on the creative aspects of their work while automating more mundane tasks. Ultimately, the art of storytelling requires a human touch, and that’s where ghostwriters truly shine.

Home By Another Route

following the wise men

Can we talk about the wise men even if it is after Christmas?

The week after Christmas the temperature in Minnesota rose high enough to melt most of the snow and then plummeted to below zero for days on end. I fell asleep one night dreaming of Arta Plage, the beach we camped at in Djibouti. I also dreamed about what it feels like to step out the front door without needing to spend three minutes gathering up all the extra clothing. The grass is always greener, so they say. Maybe I should say, “The weather is always better.”

That is all just to say my mind has been on the other side of the planet these past few weeks. I loved our Christmas traditions in Djibouti. I loved the lack of commercialism. Loved the music at church. Loved the simplicity and community. Loved the cotton candy machine at the grocery store and the meat Santa Claus and the sexy Santa mannequin (who needs Hot Frosty when we had Sexy Santa?). Loved the limited shopping options. Every single year my husband got coffee and wine and not much else.

I’m not complaining, I’m quite content in Minnesota now. But, we spent over twenty years in Africa.

And then we came “home.”

I literally came back to the place I left. I live in the same suburb I lived in my entire life. I have never needed to memorize a different zip code. I am now in my fourth New Brighton house. I shop at the same grocery store, run on the same sidewalks, drive past my high school and elementary school and junior high. We live one mile from my parents.

But, I have come home by another route.

I started out talking about the wise men, let’s go back to them.

They left their home country to follow a mysterious star. They set out to explore and discover and they went to a faraway land and there, they found Jesus. They carried baggage with them, jars of perfume and bars of gold. When they found Jesus, they probably didn’t just drop in for an afternoon and turn around to leave again. I imagine them staying with Joseph and Mary, or staying someplace nearby. Maybe they stayed for weeks or months. They probably heard stories of Jesus’s birth, maybe watched him take his first steps or, if their visit came later, played games with the toddler and shared their story of searching for him with Mary and Joseph.

They spent a significant time living as foreigners in a foreign land, hunting for the divine presence.

When the time came for these wise men to go home, they left behind the things they had carried. And, warned in a dream, they “went back to their own country by another route” (Matt 2:12).

They went home by another route.

Their destination was the same place they had gone out from long ago. But they were not the same. I wonder how much they were changed by their experience with Jesus in this foreign land. I wonder what stories they brought back to their families and communities. I wonder if they ever dreamed about the place they had visited, about the place where they had met God.

I feel like I have come home but by another route.

People say, “Welcome home,” and then other people hush them and say, “It isn’t home, Djibouti is home.”

But Djibouti isn’t home anymore. It was, or at least it felt like it was. But it never really, truly was home. Is Minnesota home? It feels like it for me, in some ways. And it doesn’t feel like home in other ways. Most of those ways are intangible. I suspect it is different for me than for my kids, who only ever knew Djibouti. Who weren’t raised with snow in their blood. I think it is even different for my husband, who didn’t grow up in New Brighton. I know these roads and restaurants and developments and ponds and sledding hills and tucked-away parks. I’ve left the skin of knees on that four-square pavement and trick-or-treated at those houses and babysat over there and spent hours and hours at that Perkins.

But. Still. I have come home by another route.

I have come home but have a different job, or two.

I have come home but to a different church community.

I have come to older parents and older children.

I have come home to a more diverse (though still majority White) suburb.

I have come home to shifting friendships, new and old and old-made-new.

I have come home and carried with me a changed self. I went out from here to explore and discover and I saw the face of God. I carried things with me when I went out and I left some of those things behind. I met regular mothers and fathers and children and interacted with modern-day royalty and had dreams and visions and played with Jesus.

I wonder what the wise men talked about as they went home by another route. What did they remember? What did they treasure privately and what did they share? Was that other route more challenging? Easier? Scary?

Are you going home by another route? What does that look like for you?

Merry Christmas, PhD-Student Style

What was your best book of the year?

I was going to arrange some books into a Christmas tree shape. Too much work, and then I’d have to re-shelve them. Who has time for that?! Apparently Dan the Handyman does.

So, here is a stack of some of the books I read this year. Some for personal interest, some for school, some for work. Don’t forget that I get loads of books via my seminary library as PDFs, so no physical copy. And loads from the local library as Kindles and audiobooks. I don’t keep track of how many books I read or in what language, but think I should start. But - look below and you’ll see that I don’t have so many books. I still have empty space on my bookshelves!

Except that I actually have boxes of books in the basement and my husband’s office shelves contain more of my books and a handful of his.

I have started gifting people books at various holidays. If I am done with one that I think will connect with someone coming to a holiday dinner, I bring it and place it at their dinner plate. And still, books seem to accumulate endlessly and effortlessly, like dust in Djibouti.

I love my office bookshelves.

What do you have on your bookshelves and why?

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‘Tis the season for ranking books.

I hate ranking books. I love different books for different reasons, so how can I pick a favorite? Most influential at school? Funniest? Most recommended? Most moving? This year I have started reading fiction again. My student brain needs that at the end of the day. I used to read such serious things. I still do, and I still like to. But I was surprised to look back at my lists and saw a notable shift to more fun. Same for podcasts - I find myself skipping the ponderous toward more of the silly.

Here are some reads that I especially enjoyed this year. Don’t take them too seriously, leave that for seminary PhD nerds.

Beautiful: You Could Make This Place Beautiful by Maggie Smith

Devastating: We Need to Talk about Kevin by Lionel Shriver (okay, this wasn’t fun to read but it sure sticks with you in a way I still can’t shake)

Fun and Quirky and I met the author when we spoke at the same event (he was keynoting, I was workshopping, so not exactly the same event but still…we ate breakfast in the same green room and he was lovely): Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr

Silly Fun and I’ve read several books in this perimenopausal genre, fiction and nonfiction, because women of a certain age aren’t dead yet: Killers of a Certain Age by Deanna Raybourn

Can’t Put Down took me a while to get to it on my library waitlist: Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus

Stunning: Apeirogon by Colum McCann. Heartbreaking, beautiful. I heard him talk at St. Thomas this year.

What would you rank as a “best book” that you read in 2024?

See you in 2025!

Two Lessons for Beginning Writers

family peace tip: books are way better Thanksgiving conversation topics than politics

I have fabulously talented nieces and nephews on both sides of our family. A number of them talk about wanting to be writers and some are doing the work. One debates the intricacies of plot ideas with me. One makes regular book recommendations, ushering me back into a love for YA fiction and Newbery Award winners. One will have a poem published in the near future! And one can’t decide between being a writer when they grow up or being an ice cream eater. I say go big or go home, do both!

Over Thanksgiving weekend I got to talk books and writing with several of these nieces and nephews, as well as other adults. I love that I’m part of reading families. Every gathering means my to-read list grows.

During some of these conversations, I was asked about my writing process and experiences. I talked about how I started with writing fiction. For years, all I wrote was fiction, I even took fiction-writing classes and went to fiction conferences. I have three finished novels, several unfinished novels, and many short stories tucked away in the dark file cabinets of my hard drives.

These will never see the light of day and the world is a better place for their languishing in darkness.

But. I learned some things by writing them. I learned many things, here are just the two lessons that came up over the weekend.

To start your published book stack you’ve got to finish and you’ve got to be mean.

One.

Finish one book. I can still remember the day I finished my first novel, over sixteen years ago. I banged out the last line while my family ate lunch and then I ran into the dining room with my hands in the air like a champion and shouted, “I DID IT!” It was not good. But I made it all the way through.

Finish one book. I don’t care if it sucks to high heaven all the way through to the last page but finish one book. Take your idea, which you loved the day you came up with it and you hated as soon as the first sentence hit the screen, and run with it all the way to the terrible end.

Resist the urge to chuck it and start over. No one ever published dozens of half-finished books or thirty-three books that only got to Chapter 2.

Prove to yourself that you can do it. Prove that you can go from page 1 to page The End.

If you write 500 words a day, you could be typing The End before July.

It will be awful. You will hate it and want to burn it. It won’t make sense and you will lose the plot and have bland, cardboard characters on the page. I don’t care. Finish it.

Once you finish a book, you’ll know you can do it. You will have so much confidence. Even if you never publish it (and let’s be honest, you probably shouldn’t, no first novels are good), you are now a book author.

You will approach the next one with less terror because you’ll know you are up to the challenge. Later, you can edit it and revise it or destroy it or hide it. But you must finish it.

Two.

Do mean, terrible things to the people in your book. Terrible could mean violent but it could also mean they forget to turn in their homework on time but the consequences must be terrible, there has got to be something at stake on every page.

I remember the first time I did something to my fictional characters that made me feel so awful, I started to cry and had to set aside the manuscript for the whole day. That is where being both a writer and an ice cream-eater may come in handy.

Get yourself so wrapped up in your characters that you cry for them, laugh with them, are angry on their behalf.

I read a lot and every book I read is finished, all the way to The End. And, every book of fiction (even a lot of nonfiction) has terrible things happen to their characters. There are always high stakes involved or I put the book down.

What is the last thing you finished? What terrible things have you done to characters?

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Here are some of the books I’ve read or listened to this fall (mostly listened, this is what can be accomplished on long runs!). I won’t bore you with the theological texts I’ve been swimming in.

The Women by Kristin Hannah (cried and then cried again). Gorgeous and heartbreaking. I called some of the plot twists but that in no way diminished their impact.

Nightwatch by Jayne Anne Phillips. Painful and beautiful, I also called some of the plot twists which was a bit disappointing, if I’m honest, but also I can’t imagine how the story could go any other way, which points to a lovely book.

Nightwatching by Tracy Sierra

The Sequel (sequel to The Plot) by Jean Hanff Korelitz. I loved The Plot. Did not love The Sequel. I’m not alone in this, if the number of Amazon stars (1,128 compared to 23,600 for the two books) are any indication. The Plot felt clever and smart. The Sequel felt overwrought, trying too hard, and, pun aside, the plot meandered and wasted a lot of time and pages for needless reasons. That said, it was also fun and funny to read her sharp critique of the inside world of publishing.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin

The Bronze Bow by Elizabeth George Speare

The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare

The Gifted School by Bruce Holsinger

Sandwich by Catherine Newman

My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante, I finally got to this.

Over my winter school break I plan to read, among whatever comes through my library queue and all the get-ahead reading for school:

Leaving the Land of Numb by Don Follis (by a friend, well done Don!)

Stories from the Steppe by Kim Aasland (by another friend, well done Kim!)

80/20 Triathlon by Matt Fitzgerald and David Warden. Yes, this means I am thinking about another triathlon. Anyone have a go-to training plan? Or a maintenance plan?

Lonesome Dove, by Larry McMurtry. I have heard this described as “the perfect book.” We will see.

Happy reading and happy writing!

Writing and Vulnerability Hangovers

finding my voice, how long will it take?

Sometimes I write about ghostwriting and sometimes I write random essays. Last week was ghostwriting. This week is a random essay. In two weeks, I plan to tell you about my work as a book coach.

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I had an entire post loaded and ready to go, an edited version of a talk I gave at my childhood church as it was on the brink of folding. The post was all about church.

I deleted it.

Church is mighty complicated for a lot of us. It is especially mighty complicated for an expatriate who spent 21 years in a Muslim-majority country and has now returned to the USA. The essay wasn’t about the church and politics. It wasn’t about church hurt. It wasn’t about false teachers and troubling leadership styles and the redeeming mercies of good people. It was just a fun, remembering post. But I erased it. It felt personal. Instead, here are other places where I have written about church:

Our Bodies Groan for Unity, in Christianity Today (beautifully, this article was recently read in its entirety by a pastor during his sermon and a friend of mine attends his church and told me about it. As a woman who has been told that women should not preach and yet I preach anyway, that’ll preach!)

Welcoming Broken Christians Back (2019)

Dear American Church (2019)

When Hospitality Isn’t Cozy, in Plough

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Why did I delete the first post?

It felt too personal, too vulnerable.

I used to share all that personal, vulnerable stuff. The articles above are pretty raw, though I refrained from linking to the most tender article of them all. Once, I published it. Now, I’m not sure I would.

I wrote a book that cut close to the bone, my second with a traditional publisher. My first literary agent constantly told me she wanted to see “blood on the page.” That second book didn’t have blood on the page, but it definitely had tears and caused tears and left the bone exposed.

I haven’t written that way in a while. Partly due to being in school again. Seminary papers about general revelation versus natural revelation and Muslima theology and decolonizing research methods and Ricoeur’s Interpretive Arc don’t make space for blood and tears on the page. Partly, it was due to a vulnerability hangover, ala Brene Brown, from exposing so much of my heart. Partly, it was due to other parts of my life that intersected with the book.

Feedback to that book has been, and continues to be, incredibly positive. Of course, there was also negative feedback. Every author expects that, or ought to, and I know how to handle it and grow through it, most feedback can be swallowed constructively and most of the time is fair and useful. Some of the negative interactions, though, cut pretty close to that bone that was already raw and has been a factor in rather life-changing decisions. Decisions that have improved my life immensely but that did not come without pain.

Even writing that much, publicly, feels borderline too vulnerable.

I’m not sure I will get my old courage back.

It feels better to hide behind big words that I have to google to define (welcome to seminary doctoral studies). Or behind theoretical concepts or other scholar’s claims. But I don’t want to lose my creative writing bone, that tender bone that still feels exposed. So I will nurture her and call her forth to join me in my private journal and sometimes summon her onto these pages. Other times, she may hibernate. During those times, know that I am sustaining her with books and books and books.

Last week I attended an author talk at the University of Minnesota. Free author talks are one of the best things about being back in the USA (after family and libraries, naturally). This was Jia Tolentino, writer for The New Yorker and author of Trick Mirror, a beautiful and complicated and challenging book. I have read it three times (again, just that personal bit feels too close. I have been burned for the books I read. Trick Mirror isn’t for everyone. Know yourself. Know I read widely. I hate that I still feel the need to defend myself and couch my words. See? I’ve lost my voice.).

She talked about how Trick Mirror felt so vulnerable she hasn’t been able to write that personally since the book came out in 2019. She still writes researched pieces about other people and other ideas. She is only now, five years later, starting to wonder if maybe, maybe, there is a twinge of courage poking up to write personally again. Maybe.

My point about Tolentino is that I am in good company. This vulnerability hangover thing is real and it may last a long time. So I deleted the other post and ended up with this one, maybe even more vulnerable.

Now you know one reason I love ghostwriting. It keeps me writing, keeps me fostering that tender creative bone, and brings so much joy as I usher other beautiful, powerful, compelling, interesting stories into the world.

I’m not sure how to wrap up a post that started with church and deleting posts and jumped to vulnerability and ended with Jia Tolentino, so I will share a photo.

This is me during a family vacation to Greece in 2022. We are at the Areopagus, also known as Mars Hill, where Paul preached in Acts 17. My husband snapped this photo of me pretending to preach. I keep it in my desk drawer in a place where I will see it every time I open the drawer to remind me why I am getting a PhD, why I work to elevate other people’s stories, why I continue writing even if for only my own consumption.

I do not want to be a preacher but I do want to know, own, and use my voice. It has been stifled and constrained and shut down for decades and it is learning to listen to itself and to find its way.