Do people care who (or what) wrote this?

Generative A.I. as a writing tool has limitations. But what I've discovered over the past week is that my perceptions of those limitations can drastically change when I learn about a new way to use it. Before, I'd been giving ChatGPT fairly vague prompts: "Describe the town of Cottondale Alabama as a news article." Listening to a copy.ai prompt engineer on Freakonomics helped me understand that being more specific in your prompts about the length of the output ("500-1000 words") and the audience ("highly-educated audience") makes all the difference. 

The other key lesson is to think of writing with A.I. as an iterative collaboration: ask the program to generate five options, use your gold ol' fashioned human judgment to select the best one, then ask it to further refine or develop that option. If you find it to be boring, ask it to vary the sentence structure or generate five new metaphors for something and then pick the best one. I sensed that writing with generative A.I. could be more like a collaboration with a co-author than an enhanced version of auto-correct; this helped me to see what, exactly, that collaboration looks like, and how to effectively collaborate with the program. 

As the output got better and better, I wondered, "has anyone done a blind test of readers' ability to discern A.I.-assisted writing from purely human writing?" I'd heard of a few misleading journalistic stunts where writers trick readers into thinking that they're reading human writing when, in fact, they are not. But I'm looking for something more rigorous, something that compares readers' abilities to discern that difference across genres of writing: short news articles, poetry, short stories, long-form journalism, short documentary scripts, etc. It seems likely that readers will prefer the A.I.-assisted version in some cases, but it's important to know what types of cases those will be. 

I also wondered what our reactions - as readers and writers - to all of this. I can think of three metaphors for possible reactions to A.I.-assisted writing:

1) the word processor. It's use changed how writers write. It changed the output. Like most disruptive technologies, it was met with skepticism and hostility. But eventually, it was widely adopted. Young writers who hadn't grown up writing free-hand had an easier time adapting to this new way of writing. The technology became "domesticated" - normal to the point of being invisible, embedded in pre-existing structures of economy and society. 

2) machine generated art. Machines have been generating visual art for decades. Some of that art is indiscernible from human generated visual art. Some of it embodies the kinds of aesthetic characteristics that people value. And yet machine generated art has never risen beyond a small niche. The market for visual art largely rejects it, in part because those who enjoy art care about how it is created. Something about the person who created it and the process by which it was created is part of what they value about art. 

3) performance enhancing drugs. Output from A.I.-assisted writing is superior - in some cases far superior - to unaided human writing, and there is market demand for it - the public sets aside its qualms and embraces good writing regardless of how it came about. This situation is perceived by writers, some industries, and some governments as unfair or possibly dangerous, maybe in terms of what bad actors could do with such a tool or how profoundly disruptive its widespread use would be for economies and society. Therefore, they regulate it, discourage its use through public shaming, or, in some cases, explicitly forbid its use. 

The quality of A.I.-assisted writing's output is only part of what will determine its eventual place in our lives. The general public's reaction to it is another part worth paying attention to. 

An ethical case for using A.I. in creative domains

A few months after first considering the promise and threat of A.I. in creative domains, it's still the threats that are getting the most attention. I tend to hear less about the possibility that by allowing A.I. to be used widely (which helps it grow more sophisticated) we are hastening a machine-led apocalypse and more about what we would lose if we replaced human writers with A.I. It would be an obvious loss for the people who write for a living, but they make the case that it would be a loss for society. Creativity would decline, mediocrity would flourish, and we would lose the ineffable sense of humanity that makes great art. By taking the power to create out of the hands of the many writers and putting it in the hands of the few big tech companies, we would exacerbate inequality and consolidate control over culture. 

There are a few steps in this hypothetical process worth scrutinizing. First, this argument assumed that if A.I. is allowed to be used in a creative field (screenwriting, journalism, education), it will necessarily lead to the replacement of human labor. There's a market logic to this: if you owned a company and you could automate a process at a fraction of the cost of paying someone to do it, you would have to automate it. If you didn't, your competition would automate it, be able to produce an equivalent good or experience at a lower cost, charge consumers less for it, be a better value to shareholders as a publicly traded company, and put you out of business. You could point to examples of such things happening in the past as evidence of this logic (though I have to admit, I found it hard to find examples that used human communication rather than physical labor. I'd assumed chatbots had led to steep declines in customer service labor, but all I could find was editorials about how it will lead to steep declines and competing editorials about how customers find chatbots enraging and still demand human customer service agents). 

But I still have trouble thinking of this particular replacement-of-human-labor trajectory as inevitable. I can't help but think of A.I. as a tool that humans use rather than a replacement for humans, more like a word processor or the internet than a brain. I can't not see a future (and, honestly, a present) in which writers of all kinds use A.I. for parts of the writing process: formatting, idea generation, wordsmithing. Humans prompt the A.I., evaluate its output, edit it, combine it with something they generated, and share an attribution with the A.I. You could call this collaboration or you could call this supervision, depending on how optimistic or pessimistic you are, but the work that it generates is likely better than what A.I. generates on its own and it is generated faster than what humans generate on their own. But humans who prompt, edit, evaluate, and contribute to creating quality work are as necessary as they were before. They can still use that necessity to make their case when bargaining with corporate ownership. 

I also have trouble seeing a marketplace in which all content is generated by A.I. If the A.I. can only generate mediocre content, won't people recognize its mediocrity and prefer human-made creative work? It's hard not to see this particular facet of the argument against A.I. in creative fields as elitist snobbery - "of course the masses will choose the A.I.-generated dreck they're served! We highly-educated members of the creative class must save them by directing them toward 'True Art,' (which we just happened to create and have a financial stake in preserving)."

And that is an ethical argument for A.I. in creative fields that I have yet to hear: the argument that the class of people who are currently paid for being creative are protectionist. If they can just keep us thinking about Big Tech and the obscenely wealthy studio execs, we won't have to think about the vast number of smart, creative, compassionate people who happen to not know how to write well, or to write well in a particular language. I worked hard at becoming a good writer, spending a lot of time and money to acquire this marketable skill. Does that make it morally right to deprive others of the ability to use a writing tool that levels the creative playing field? I assume there are millions of people with the life experience and creativity to be great writers who simply lack the educational experience to craft grammatically correct prose. Who am I to insist they take out loans and wait years before they can make worthy artistic contributions?

I do understand the replacement-of-human-labor argument against A.I. None of the anti-protectionism argument really resolves or even speaks to the market logic argument. I suppose this is what smart regulation does - limit the use of technology in cases where we see clear evidence of social harm but allow it where there are opportunities for social good. As an educator, I want to make sure that students understand how to recognize the characteristics of "good" (i.e., compelling, effective at communicating, lasting the test of time) writing, even if they need a little help getting their subjects and verbs to agree.

It can be hard to see the good of A.I. in creative realms at this stage in the development cycle. It is hard to see the would-be writers and the untold stories, but any ethical approach to the question of A.I. in creative fields must consider them. 

What Future Does Professional Media Content Production Have?

In the Media Literacy class I’m teaching this semester, my students are engaging in a role-playing exercise in which they assume the roles of four groups that, traditionally, play a role in the development of a new medium: governments, advertisers, technology developers, and content producers. First, the students research the role that these groups played in the creation and popularization of print, radio, TV, film, internet, etc. Then, they form new groups comprised of representatives from each of these groups and discuss how to develop a heretofore un-developed medium. The first example I thought of for the un-developed medium is: virtual reality.

Most of us have an idea of what virtual reality could be. And this imagined reality of VR could have government regulation (determining how the content will be distributed, if the roll-out of VR will be subsidized like a utility, how to regulate violent/sexual content, etc.), advertising (product placement in virtual reality? Pretty much an advertiser’s dream!), and technology developers (Apple VR might have a cleaner look than Microsoft’s somewhat cluttered-looking VR), and content producers (custom-made luxury environments for you to relax in). Sounds like a good fit!

I’m going to do this exercise again later in the semester, and I’m having no trouble coming up with several other “media technologies of tomorrow”: augmented reality glasses, superior surveillance technology, a portable instant-fMRI machine, affordable 3D printing. Some of these technologies are already gaining a foothold in the market. It’s easy to see how governments, advertisers, and technology developers would be involved in the creation and development of these technologies. But where would the content producers fit in?

The more I thought about the exciting media technologies of the future, the more trouble I have thinking about how professional content producers (e.g., screenwriters or the equivalent) will fit into the picture. I’m quite confident that there will always be an appetite for well-told stories. People skilled at telling these stories, through words or pictures or sounds, will have a place in our media environment. But I suspect that people will devote less time to consuming those stories than in years past. During the golden age of radio and television, people spent hours every day consuming content created by professionals. Increasingly, we spend more and more time using Facebook, Twitter, and other activities that don’t involve much in the way of content production (yes I know, lots of conversations on FB & Twitter are about content produced by professionals, but still, most of the aggregate value of these sites, I would contend, is generated by the users and the creators of the venue, i.e., the technology developers). In thinking about the media technologies of the future, it’s hard to think of a place for the writers, the producers, the directors. I’m sure there will be a handful of greats who produce content we all talk about, but perhaps a shrinking middle ground, and a shrinking window of attention and time we all spend consuming professionally produced content. 

Aside from making my group role-playing project a bit more difficult to design, its hard to think of a downside to this future. Definitely something I'll come back to in class. 

Unions & the Quality of Screenwriting

A thought came to me as I was watching the end of season 3 of The Wire while listening to the director and writer's commentary. The director talks about lens lengths, subtle camera movements, blocking. All of these have effects of on the viewer, ones that they likely can't quite put their fingers on. I certainly wasn't conscious of some of the track-ins that were happening during conversations between two characters, but I bet that, subconsciously, it helped to boost the sense of tension and importance in the scene for me, all the more so b/c The Wire doesn't use the crutch of emotion-directing musical cues. But I couldn't help but think that the camera movements, the lighting, the music (if there were any), the performances, and everything else serve to augment the core of the text - the script. Even though I know that TV and film are collaborative arts, I cannot help but think that the script is the most important element of either medium.

I had a sudden pang of guilt about an earlier entry I wrote about why screenwriters will never get much pay or much respect. I've enjoyed The Wire so much and believe that it will go on to generate hundreds of millions of dollars in DVD, online, and cable syndication revenue; how could I say that its writers weren't entitled to most of that revenue when they created the core of that text?

I still believe what I wrote in that entry: that unlike directors, producers, financiers, cinematographers, agents, and actors, writers do not need a lot of capital to ply their trade. The reason why all the rest of those individuals get paid so much is not b/c they're equally or more responsible for what shows up on screen. Its b/c they need capital and, in the case of agents and producers, connections to practice their trade, to get better at it, and to get anything done in that industry. Capital is rare. Pens and paper (or laptops) are not. Because of that simple economic truth, writers will never get all that much money. There are always more out there.

Of course, there aren't that many George Pelacanoses and David Simons out there. Good writing is rare. But how do you know that one writer is better than another, that one script is better than another?

I'd argue that unions, because they encourage producers and studios to pay flat rates for scripts that have little to do with the number of people that will actually see the movie or the TV show, encourage mediocre writing. Producers would pay writers more if there were some way of knowing what they were paying for.

And what about the David Simons and George Pelaconoses that are just starting out, that could use the support of the unions to make it through the lean years so that they can get the time to write something as good as The Wire? I think that with the storytelling incubator that the internet allows for, either through making low-budget web-series or no-budget blogs publication of scripts (hell, even fanfiction gives scouts an idea of who the good and the bad writers are), financiers will be able to spot the writers who can please large audiences without having to guess, offer them the contracts they deserve, and stop taking bad bets on bad writers. Good writing has always been rare, but b/c financiers had to guess as to what might be popular, they had no incentive to pay them all that much, and unions didn't help by encouraging those financiers to compensate good and bad writers equally based on the misguided premise that today's hack could be tomorrow's Herman J. Mankiewicz. Not anymore.

Entertain Yourselves

It seems that the WGA is going on strike. So what?

Frankly, I possess a weak understanding of the economics of the entertainment industry, but from what I've been able to observe, financiers, producers, writers, and actors all assume that profits will keep growing at a steady rate as the economy in general grows. If the growth stops, there's something wrong. But isn't it possible that DVD sales could keep going up for a period as people built their libraries, and then plateau? If this is the case, then slowing growth isn't anything to get alarmed about. Besides, can't they just make cheaper pictures?

As far as TV goes, maybe people don't watch as much TV as they used to. Maybe people go online for entertainment. Anything could be used as a substitute for TV, from social networking sites to YouTube to craigslist to message boards. Reality TV substitutes for scripted TV. So, what exactly do we need unionized writers for? What do we need producers for? What do we need studios for? If anyone can pick up a camera, create, promote, and distribute a movie or a show, what do we need Hollywood for?

Of course, most people will point out that most online content sucks compared to Hollywood fare, and also point out that as major Hollywood studios produce content for the web, there's not much of a distinction between old media and new media. What I don't get is the collective bargaining approach to making entertainment. If you make something that Joe Blow would have a tough time making - say, an automobile - then you can go on strike and the corporation that employs you as well as the public will have a tough time replacing you. But if you make entertainment, then couldn't people very easily find a substitute for you?

We could make like most other industries and offshore it, get content from overseas. Would it really be so bad if we watched foreign films that were subtitled for a year, or a decade? Would the world or this culture or our economy really be that worse off? Basically, our culture can be divided into two camps - those who will watch material from overseas, and those who watch a lot of reality programming and/or repeats of old shows. New scripted American content needn't figure into the equation.

The logic of a strike implies that there's something exclusive or superior to what Hollywood creates. Hollywood created "superior" fare in part b/c of the tightly-knit social network of nepotism and reputation that keeps things running relatively smoothly. They also had a monopoly on equipment, sets, and funding. But now, everybody else can get in on the entertainment game. More importantly, everyone can form and maintain the social networks needed to produce the collaborative arts of film and TV.

Hollywood's promotional muscle is overrated. Big advertising budgets are capable of spiking the sales of a product at first, but the quality of the product determines its long-term profitability in the long-tail economy. Initial promotion matters with products that require constant streams of funding to be produced, like material objects or a high-budget TV series with unionized workers. It doesn't matter with a low-budget 30 ep web series that catches on via word of mouth or based on the existing reputation of the artists involved.

Producers, studios, and big-name stars had writers over a barrel for decades. Ultimately, this might teach them that its the whole system that isn't needed by the public. What people really want is a good story, drama, characters they can relate to. Individuals (be they producers, writers, directors, actors) who can create those stories will always be of value. To me, this all seems like what the music industry went through post-Napster. Their economic models predict growth, but that's just b/c they assumed an exclusivity that no longer exists. Inflexible unions and collective bargaining are relics of a less open marketplace. This is a golden opportunity for non-unionized entertainers (i.e. everyone with a camera, a laptop, and an ego) to become semi-famous, make a few bucks, and have some fun.

Why Screenwriters Get No Respect, and How They Can Get It

Listening to this interview with Akiva Goldsman on The Business rekindled my interest in the status of screenwriters. We all know that screenwriters are treated like shit in Hollywood. They're typically not well known and not well paid. I've always thought of the screenwriters as the primary authors of films. Yes, I know that directors and cinematographers shape the look of the film, that producers' tastes are the only reason the screenplay gets made into a film, and that movie stars bring certain cultural cache that affects the interpretations of the audience and helps films get made. I've come to value all the input of every creative person who works in the industry. I firmly believe that every one of them has some impact on how a film is received, and that if even one of those elements is out of place, a film that could've been great would turn out to be awful. But still, the appeal of Hollywood films is less about lighting, acting, and even subject matter. Its about a well-told story. Its still my contention that everything else can only either augment or detract from the core emotions and ideas that are in the screenplay. As they say: the story's the thing.

Then why aren't writers more well known and paid more $? It has something to do with how many there are of them and how quickly they can be shifted from picture to picture. Goldsman points out that everyone piece of the cinematic division of labor pretty much stays put during production. It would be unthinkable to go through 10 wardrobe people during a film, but completely normal to go through 10 writers.

A less extreme version of the infinite monkey theorum applies here, and while I'm not quite calling screenwriters 'monkeys,' I am saying that they're partially responsible for their low status in Hollywood. Part of the reason that everyone has a screenplay (and not everybody is a budding cinematographer) is b/c the tools of the trade - paper and pen - are pretty damn cheap. As digital production and distribution costs fall, maybe they'll be the kind of glut of talent in other realms of filmmaking, but still, it seems like writing will always have this edge.

How are screenwriters responsible for their lowly status? I think that they have a certain view of writing and are unwilling to depart from it.

My theory is that screenwriters are:

A) too married to their work. So when a producer asks them to change something in the script b/c it doesn't test well or b/c the producer has done many films like this and "knows the audience," the screenwriter refuses, and is summarily replaced. They don't think about the finished screenplay as something that can be radically altered after it has been completed, by them or by anyone else. The economics or production and distribution necessitates that work be seen this way. Producers can't know exactly how a film is going to play from looking at a treatment. Screenplays are like theories, and the process of bringing one to the screen involves various little experiments, each of which either confirm or deny the effectiveness of the film. If its denied, you don't just give up. You retain some elements and introduce new ones. You revise. Sure, the producer is a false proxy for the audience, but still, he's more detached and experienced than most screenwriters.

B) too into the idea that storytelling is an art and not a craft, and that the spirit that moves one to write and the place where the ideas come from cannot be pinned down. Either you got it or you don't. It comes from the soul, and the worst thing you could possibly do is to compare writing to a science (like I just did).

The theory I offer here is a self-serving one (but that doesn't make it wrong). I want to teach visual storytelling, therefore I'd love it if writers looked at screenwriting as more of a teachable craft and less of a "you got it or you don't" kind of art.

Maybe that's true, and maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree. But there seems to be some evidence to the contrary. If you look at the most successful screenwriters, a good number of them have read screenplay manuals (which are imperfect for reasons I'll explain), have gone to film school, or generally see writing as (at least partially) a teachable craft. If good writing really "came from the soul" and not the textbook, then wouldn't all successful writers not have read any screenplay manuals or taken one screenwriting class? I'll readily concede that plenty of great writers aren't taught but born, but the amalgam of taught/born writers suggests that there's something about writing you can teach. And I think part of the reason more great writers haven't been taught is b/c they're not teaching in the right way. Manuals provide a hard-and-fast formula, when really its an ever-mutating process that is (like pretty much every phenomena in the world) better known through a combination of ongoing experiments and classic books . So, if Hollywood continues to run this way (at least partially), how long can screenwriters keep preaching the gospel of the gut and scratching their heads at why they can't get any respect?

Also note that writing screenplays in the revisable, experimental mode isn't antithetical to creativity. Someone has to come up with the ideas to try, and the best screenwriters will still be the ones with the deepest wells of creativity, the "biggest guts."

If they did change the way they thought about screenwriting, then maybe the hierarchy would change a bit. Maybe a flexible writer would stay put on a film longer, or collaborate with a producer or studio longer. Its in the best interests of producers to collaborate with known entities. The business isn't out to screw writers. They just want them to be a bit more flexible.