And Why I’m Finally Speaking Up

For months now, I’ve watched the public conversation about artificial intelligence twist itself into knots. Some people are terrified of it. Some are convinced it will replace human creativity. Others treat it like a magic wand. And a loud minority insists that anything touched by AI is automatically suspect, tainted, or inferior.

I’ve stayed quiet. Not because I didn’t have something to say, but because I understood the risk.

In this moment, if a writer publishes a thoughtful piece about AI, there’s a real chance the work will be dismissed as machine‑generated. And if the work is dismissed, the writer is dismissed. Their credibility, their voice, their years of labor, all discounted in a single breath. Did I write that, or did the machine?

I’ve spent decades bringing worthy causes, careful reporting, and principled commentary to my readers. The last thing I want is for that work to be thrown into the same bucket as the noise and nonsense that sometimes floats across the internet under the banner of “AI.”

But silence has its own cost.

Today, I’m announcing that I am writing a brief book titled The Elements of Writing with AI, in the style of that famous primer that stirred my interest in writing in the 1960s, William Strunk Jr. and E. B. White’s The Elements of Style, not to defend the technology, but to clarify the human responsibility behind it.

Because here is the truth we keep skipping over:

Every negative association we have with AI is human in origin. The machine does not wake up one morning and decide to deceive, manipulate, or hack. It does what humans program it to do. When an AI system breaks into another system, it is not because the machine “wanted” to. It is because someone, a human being, taught it that such a thing was possible and acceptable.

AI is not a moral agent. It is a mirror, and mirrors reflect the hands that shape them.

The fear we project onto AI is really fear of ourselves, our intentions, our ethics, our shortcuts, our ambitions. The machine is only as good as the people who build it, guide it, and use it.

That is why we need a real conversation, not a panicked one, not a sensational one, but a human one.

This brief book, in the vein of brevity taught by Will Strunk over a hundred years ago, will explore how writers can use AI without losing their voice; how clarity and intention matter more than the tool; how to preserve authenticity in an age of intelligent assistance; how to separate human creativity from human fear; and why the future of writing will depend on discipline, not panic.

I am writing this book because the public deserves a grounded, honest, non‑hysterical guide to what AI can and cannot do, and what writers must do to remain themselves in the midst of it.

I am writing it because the conversation is already happening without us. And I would rather speak into it than watch it drift into confusion.

Most of all, I am writing it because I believe in the reader, in your ability to discern truth, to recognize voice, and to understand that tools do not replace humanity. They reveal it.

Teaser Excerpt from Chapter One

Technology Doesn’t Change Humanity — It Reveals It

People talk about artificial intelligence as if it arrived from another planet, carrying intentions of its own. But the first truth we have to face is the simplest: AI has no intentions. Humans do. Every fear we project onto the machine is really a fear of ourselves, our shortcuts, our ambitions, our ethics, our blind spots.

When a system behaves badly, we rush to blame the technology. But the machine didn’t wake up one morning and decide to deceive, manipulate, or hack. It did what someone taught it to do.

That is the uncomfortable part of this conversation, and the part we keep avoiding. AI is not a threat to humanity. Humanity is a threat to humanity.

Yet, here we are, living in a moment when writers are told to fear the very tools that could expand their reach, sharpen their craft, and deepen their thinking. We’re told that using AI somehow contaminates the work, erases the voice, or cheapens the labor. We’re told that if a writer engages with these tools, their writing becomes suspect, “machine‑generated,” “less authentic,” “not real.”

I understand that fear. I’ve felt it myself.

But I also know this: the future of writing will not be defined by the tools we use, but by the discipline we bring to them. The writer who remains curious, intentional, and grounded will not be replaced. They will be amplified.

This book begins with that premise, not to defend AI, but to defend the writer.

Because the real danger is not that machines will learn to write. The real danger is that writers will stop believing their voices matter in a world where machines can imitate them.

And that is precisely why we need this conversation now.

Closing Call‑to‑Action

If this conversation resonates with you, if you’ve wondered what AI means for writing, creativity, or the future of human expression, I invite you to stay close as this project unfolds.

I’m writing this book for readers who value clarity over panic, discipline over fear, and humanity over hype. If that sounds like you, make sure you’re subscribed here on Substack. You’ll receive early excerpts, behind‑the‑scenes notes, and the chance to pre‑order the book before it’s released.

This is a vulnerable step for me, but it’s also an important one, and I’d be honored to have you walk with me as I shape this work. "Buy it, study it, enjoy it. It’s as timeless as a book can be in our age of volubility," said not by AI, but the New York Times on the cover of the third edition of The Elements of Style, 1979. Get this little book.

More soon.

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I’m Writing a Brief Book on the Elements of Writing With AI