People reach for all kinds of metaphors to describe their relationship to AI. For some, AI is like a mostly reliable intern. For others, it’s a virtual assistant. Increasingly, chatbots like ChatGPT are moving into the role of companion, therapist, even romantic partner. As a college writing professor, I’ve come to think of AI as a collaborator: an archive of knowledge that talks back. But as a sober alcoholic myself, I also can’t help but imagine it as a high-functioning drunk: It can sometimes sound brilliant even when it has no idea what it’s talking about.
I can tell you stories about the ways AI has come through when I needed it, saving me hours of time by doing mundane tasks, proofreading my writing, or conversing about my latest research obsessions. But then there are those other times when it lies with a cheery tone, when it seems to not understand a word I’m saying but just keeps talking rather than admit it’s wrong or that it doesn’t have an answer. Like a few weeks ago, when I asked ChatGPT to turn my written remarks for an academic conference into a slide deck. My talk was about literary journalism, and it proudly offered me a presentation about luxury travel in Brazil.
Off-the-rails incidents like that give me plenty of cautionary tales to share with my students. But even though I think AI undercuts some of the most important human reasons to write, not all kinds of writing are the same. To write, we often have to research first, and after we’ve written a draft we need critical feedback. Instead of taking a reactionary approach to AI, I want to explore with my students how it can be a useful collaborator in that process.
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