Let’s get one thing straight: writing has evolved slower than your grandma’s dial-up internet. For 5,000 years, we scratched symbols on rocks, then on parchment, then on paper, and finally started banging keys on typewriters like exasperated gorillas. Modern writing? Just a shinier version of whatever monks were muttering in candlelight a thousand years ago.
Meanwhile, code—oh sweet chaotic code—basically went from caveman grunts in binary to rewriting the laws of physics in under a lifetime. Sixty years, and we went from ‘Hello World’ to ‘Oops, we accidentally built Skynet.’
You’d think writing would’ve levelled up by now. But no. It’s been happily stagnating in its tweed jacket, sipping on nostalgia for Shakespeare and Faulkner. And then AI kicks in the door.
Now we’ve got Large Language Models. These bad boys don’t just write—they predict, generate, and remix prose better than most sleep-deprived humans can manage after three espressos. They don’t care about your MFA or your tortured metaphors. They churn content like a Vegas slot machine addicted to Jungian archetypes.
But here’s the kicker: it’s not just about generating blog posts and clickbait headline trash. It’s about fundamentally redefining *what writing even freaking is.*
In this brave new word-soup world, writing becomes less about bleeding your soul onto the page and more about navigating a conversation with a glorified autocomplete that has read the entirety of the internet. It means anyone with half a brain and a keyboard becomes a ‘writer,’ and your 12-year-old cousin might crank out something better than your vulnerable think piece about artisanal sadness.
So what happens next? Writing becomes code. Not code like JavaScript, but modular, predictive, shape-shifting narrative code—crafted not just by authors, but also directed by readers, marketers, algorithms, and maybe your favorite barista.
Sure, this sounds terrifying. But so did email at one point. And the electric toothbrush.
Bottom line: The slow, lurching evolution of writing is done snoozing. AI just slapped it awake, handed it an energy drink, and said, ‘You’ve got 60 years to catch up. Start running.’