What we can learn from canned writing.
Artificial Intelligence’s quality of writing keeps getting more impressive, and I want to be open to examining memoir content written by AI. Even if the writing style is kind of dry, maybe we can learn something from canned writing.
An AI Memoir Writing Sample
Take a look at this sample. In addition to creating the above image through AI, I asked AI to provide three paragraphs of descriptive writing in first person about the day my dad left our family in suburban St. Louis. This is not from my own life—I grew up in the northeast and had a devoted dad—but it’s believable that a memoir author might include this episode. See what you think:
The bright morning sun spilled through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow on the table where my mother was packing lunches for my siblings and me. The air was filled with the comforting scent of toasted bread and freshly brewed coffee. I remember sitting on a stool, watching her cover sandwiches with plastic wrap as she hummed softly to herself. “Mom, where’s Dad?” I asked, glancing toward the hallway. She paused, her hands stilling momentarily before she replied, her voice strained. “Oh, sweetie, he’s just… he’s got some things to take care of.” The way she avoided eye contact made my stomach churn. In that moment, I felt a heaviness settle in the pit of my stomach, a weight I could not yet articulate.
That evening, as twilight cast a dusky hue over our cul-de-sac, my siblings and I were playing outside, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside our home. Suddenly, the front door swung open, and I watched Dad step out, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. My heart raced as I jogged toward him, confusion wrinkling my brow. “Dad, where are you going?” I asked, trying to hold back the urgency in my voice. He hesitated and looked down at me, his expression a delicate mix of sadness and resolve. “I need to do this for me, buddy. I promise it’s not what you think.” My little brother, playing with the soccer ball, kicked it towards Dad, unaware of the gravity of the moment. Dad sighed, knelt down, and ruffled his hair. “Take care of your mom, okay? I’ll… I’ll be back.”
The door closed behind him with a finality that echoed in my chest. I stood frozen on the porch as the sound of my siblings’ laughter faded into an uncertain silence. My mother emerged moments later, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She knelt down and gathered us into her arms, murmuring reassurances that felt hollow. “Everything will be alright, I promise,” she said, but the tremor in her voice suggested otherwise. “Mom, why is he leaving?” I whispered, fear creeping into my tone. She simply held us tighter, her warmth and fragility intertwining. “Sometimes, people have to find their own way,” she breathed, the truth heavy in the air, as we stood together, trying to navigate a world that suddenly seemed much colder.
Tips from the AI Passage
I think this is astonishingly adequate. Give AI a few more details about how this happened to you, and if you’re in high school you can pretty much hand it in as written, although of course I don’t recommend doing that. What can this passage teach us about good writing?
- There is a standard way of writing; you can’t justify your loose knowledge of grammar by saying that’s just your writing style, as valid as any other style. Here, AI knows that the mom packed sandwiches “for my siblings and me,” not “for my siblings and I,” which is what I see all too frequently in my editing work. There are a few questionable word choices—the phrase “her hands stilling” is a clue that this was not written by a modern human, and “toward” is more standard U.S. English than “towards”—but the grammar in the AI piece is nearly flawless. The main error for a memoir is that in dialogue, each speaker should start a new paragraph. Maybe AI even knows this but, because I asked for only three paragraphs, it ignored the paragraphing rule. Other than that, the punctuation, word usage, preference for active voice—it’s all correct. If you’re weak on grammar, study AI’s sentence construction and you very well may pick up some tips.
- Telling a story involves all the senses. In this sample, AI helps the reader see, hear, smell and feel what’s going on in the scene. Sun spilling through a window, covering a sandwich in plastic wrap, humming to herself, the dad ruffling the brother’s hair—it all paints a vivid picture and puts the reader right in the frame. Her “eyes glistening with unshed tears”— you can clearly picture that face.
- Fill holes but don’t waste words on unnecessary detail. The story unfolds logically. There are no holes for the reader to fill in. How did the father get outside? “The door swung open.” You might wonder a little about what happened during the day between the morning scene and the evening scene, but it’s a valid option to set up tension from the morning and go right to the events of the evening rather than throwing in a sentence in between explaining that the kids went to school and the parents went to work.
- Don’t repeat. AI has the appropriate use of pronouns instead of over-clarifying who was speaking/causing action by repeating the character’s name. Again using the example of jumping from morning to evening, we can assume that earlier in the book the reader learns what these people normally do all day, so there’s no need to repeat that. The word “stomach” is used in two sentences in a row, but for the most part synonyms are freely sprinkled in to avoid repeating favorite words the way a human writer tends to do.
- Some cliché is ok. I can accept “morning sun spilled,” “the air was filled with the comforting scent,” “fear creeping into my tone,” and even “the truth heavy in the air.” With all of our words, we and AI alike will eventually hit on phrases written by authors who came before us. If you’re describing a window letting in the sun, the sun will be spilling, streaming, rolling, floating, shining—whatever you choose, you’re unlikely to come up with a brand new idea.
Human vs AI
Keep in mind that I gave AI only a few facts, and the rest is fiction that AI made up. So apart from the story reporting, I think AI did a good job of plot and character development all on its own. But you’re writing memoir, not fiction, so developing plot and characters is all on you because you’re also accountable to what happened in reality.
So what’s missing? Something is missing, right?
It’s voice. There’s a narrative voice there, but it’s not a compelling or unique voice. And even though I’m willing to accept some cliché, all of this feels like something you’ve read before. That makes sense, of course, since AI draws from everything that’s already been written. Still, I’m impressed with “his expression a delicate mix of sadness and resolve.”
I’m standing by my reference to this as “canned writing.” It’s fine for a pamphlet or website, for instructional content and supplying facts. In fact, it’s just fine. It’s not special. Your voice is what makes your memoir special. You can have the most amazing life with truly unique experiences, and if your voice doesn’t charm or compel people to keep reading, your memoir will fall flat.
This AI passage would be difficult for me to edit. I make it a priority to retain the author’s voice. Here, there’s nothing to hold onto. I couldn’t improve it. I would have to start from scratch and interview the author in order to write in the author’s voice.
You’re not AI. You’re human and special, and just keep that in mind as you write your memoir. Your book has to rise above the writing in a generic pamphlet.