The monsters of artificial intelligence are coming for you. They will cast you out on the street like a Dickensian mill owner and laugh as they do it – at least they will if you work in any sort of creative industry. We’re told this again and again, and the warnings might be right – America’s Authors Guild has even just announced plans for a trust mark to be stuck on book covers to show that the book was written by a human.
Well, I’m going to turn the tables. My publisher is anxiously waiting for me to finish my new novel, a sequel to my previous thriller The Turnglass. So let’s see if AI can take the faff – the actual writing bit – out of creative writing.
A quick check with ChatGPT assures me that yes, it knows my previous book, so I inform it that the sequel begins with Shakespeare investigating the real-life murder of his friend Christopher Marlowe. Early on, Shakespeare encounters a Scottish villain beside a canal. So let’s fire up the AI.
“‘Jamie MacIntosh,’ Shakespeare muttered, his hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of his poniard. ‘What foul wind has blown you into my way?’”
So far so good.
“MacIntosh grinned, his teeth flashing white in the dimness. ‘I might ask the same of you, Bard.’ MacIntosh stepped forward, his broad shoulders filling the alley. ‘Not so fast, Shakes. Word is you’ve been asking the wrong questions to the wrong people. That makes you a problem.’”
Nice one, ChatGPT. That’s the stuff. One note, though: MacIntosh isn’t Scottish enough. Try again.
“MacIntosh stepped forward. ‘No sae fast, Shakes. Word is ye’ve been speirin’ th’ wrang questions tae th’ wrang folk. That maks ye a problem.’”
Better! Now. A bit of gratuitous violence, please.
“They slammed against the brick wall, dust and mortar cascading around them. Shakespeare brought an elbow down onto MacIntosh’s shoulder. He grabbed MacIntosh’s collar and twisted, using the man’s own weight to roll them both sideways – straight into the canal… ‘Damnation,’ MacIntosh spat. ‘Ye fecht like a deil.’”
Not bad. Not bad at all. But, well, MacIntosh still isn’t Scottish enough, if you ask me. One more try? ChatGPT is happy to oblige.
“‘No sae fast, ye preenin’ Sassenach gobshite.’” Blimey.
“Word is ye’ve been speirin’ th’ wrang questions.’ The two men circled each other, breath steamin’ in the cauld night air. MacIntosh roared an’ surged, only tae step on a particularly slithery haddock, which sent him flailin’ like a spooked highland coo afore he crashed onto Shakespeare.
“Shakespeare shoved MacIntosh straight intae the edge o’ the canal… The Scot let oot a wheeze that sounded like a deflatin’ bagpipe. ‘Ach, Christ’s knees!’ he spat, wipin’ water frae his eyes. ‘Ye fecht like a deranged wild haggis wi’ a grudge.’”
Right. Yes, I think that’s sufficiently Scottish.
But does ChatGPT have any suggestions for what could happen next? It does.
“Just as they separate, both men are ambushed by a gang of cutthroats. Forced to fight side by side, they realize they make a formidable duo. Afterward, they begrudgingly agree to work together – perhaps on a mission involving court intrigue.”
A mismatched buddy movie – I like it! Only I’m not sure it fits with the rest of the book. I’ll have to see what my editor thinks. I won’t hold my breath, though.
The Waterfall is published in September. None of it was written by AI
• Gareth Rubin writes about culture and society
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