The AI Conversation Not Enough People Are Having
Claire Rages Against the Machine ☕️
It was as unsurprising as it was frustrating to learn that my books have been used by Meta to train AI.
If you haven’t heard about this debacle, you can learn more here. This is not another newsletter talking about the danger of AI, or about theft of creative property, or about I Robot and all of its creepy future-telling.
I signed onto a class action lawsuit, and I do think this is illegal, but today I wanted to suggest that we’re missing a much, much larger picture.
I can’t stop thinking about something
recently wrote: “Think of a child learning to sew. We give that student tailor scrap fabric for practice, we supervise and support the threading of the needle and bobbin the first dozen times the child attempts and fails, we swoop in and get that needle threaded, the child then plays around with the pedal trying to get the right speed and pressure for the specific task. Button holing, zig-zags, turning a corner, finishing the last stitch and tying it off are practiced pressure-free before sewing a pair of pants. No child is tempted to ‘cheat’ by getting a friend to sew the outfit . . . that’s because the objective is to actually DO THE THING. The value is in the activity itself, having the pleasure and joy of being . . . the tailor!”I couldn’t agree more with this entire idea: that policing AI is too late. That ship has sailed. But also, it’s not the point.
The transformation must happen on a heart level: a human level. We need to encourage people to want to write, to want to read, to want to create. To want to consume great art made by human hands. To do so not for an accolade or a grade1, but because there’s an innate desire in us as human beings to learn and create.
Before I was a published author, there was nothing that drove me more bananas than writers complaining online about how haaaard it all was (insert the working-in-a-coal-mine Instagram reel here). I sort of wanted to snap at them, oh, I’m so sorry, you didn’t make ~a list~ you wanted to make? Something ~took too long~ in your dream career? Someone ~didn’t like the thing you made~ that you got paid to make? Dry your tears, girlfriend. I can’t even lie to you: I sound hella dismissive and judgy but there’s still a part of me that feels that way. It’s probably my midwestern ancestry. I don’t really like complaining in general2, let alone on the internet, let alone when so many of us have these ultra-cushy jobs while some of our neighbors are schlepping to the grocery store or the office or God forbid, the preschool3. It just feels tone-deaf and obnoxious. I swore I would never, ever be that author who has the good fortune to be paid for their dream and then bemoans having to actually, like, do the work.
*Clears throat and hides.*
I can’t lie to you that for the most part, writing fiction feels very different now that it’s my job. It is not dreamy. It is not #aesthetic. I enjoy it, but I enjoy it in a different way. I have deadlines and schedules; I have to think about “the market” and “the brand”. I hear reviewers in my head, no matter how hard I try to make ‘em shut up. Some proud artists would rush in and insist I don’t have to think about those things and okay, I don’t, but I do have to put dinner on the table and right now, in my world, that’s what that requires. My mindset has shifted and similar to AI, that ship has kind of sailed. I don’t think it’s coming back.
But I do have poetry.
I’ve written before here about my love of poetry. I am not being fake-humble when I tell you I am a bad poet. I do not know the rules and I do not know the tactics. My poems do not evoke much feeling or vision. But I love going to the coffee shop and scribbling out poetry. I love diving into the craft of something I’m interested in, but still very much learning. I love creating something that is for ME: no hashtags, no grand plans, no book ideas floating around the back of my mind. I make zero money writing poems. I do it purely for the gift it is to my heart. It feels the way it felt when I would wake up at 4 AM in 2017, trying to write a novel in the dim light of our tiny kitchen.
I recently came across a piece by a poet that I love talking about how submitting her work to magazines feels like honoring it to her. I felt a creeping sensation: should I do that? Am I *supposed* to be doing that? I even started making a spreadsheet of submissions, timelines, and rules before I deleted it in horror. I could already feel some of my joy for poetry slipping away. I don’t even want to do that! I have no desire to become a published poet, to worry about things like brands and paychecks and timelines. I have a great desire to write heartfelt poems.
Ditto baking. I really love nerding out on sourdough starters. I want to hear everything about yours. What’s its name? How long does your leaven need? Do you add flour first, or water? What does that do to your crumb, or your flavor?! Have you mastered the sourdough pizza, which I still cannot conquer?! I read books on bread as if they’re thriller novels. And I know the second I made it an Instagram series, or tried to take pretty photos of it, or God forbid attempted a cute cottage bakery, all of that joy would turn into another to-do list.
Maya Angelou: “You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have.”
When you monetize every single creative act you partake in, you really do lose something. It’s like assigning it a grade. Not the joy, necessarily—but something. A certain spark of magic that you once had. You start to see and understand AI, because everything becomes about completion. Suddenly, the goal is to get the thing done and out the door so that you can get the dollar bills for it in your bank account.
None of this is to say you shouldn’t attempt to make a living from your creative work (I do)4. Or that you don’t need to ever consider metrics (I do). Or that monetizing your creative work will make you hate it (I adore writing fiction, even now). But that if you are making a living from one way of creativity, I’d encourage you to find another that you aren’t. Just to keep the blood flowing and the machines away. To remind yourself that creating, not just having The Created Thing, is good for us.
I bake, write poetry, organize my kids’ bookshelves, and am experimenting with fancy at-home lattes because I ain’t spending 8 bucks on a grande. Other ideas that I would never personally do but might fit your vibe: gardening (I have a black thumb), bookshelf-decorating (mine are just…lined up), playing an instrument (I played piano for 8 years and now can barely play my scales), creative sports like dance (lol), or crafts like sewing, knitting, + crocheting (I have bad wrists, and that’s my excuse). Hobbies, guys! Bring back the hobbies!
Lawsuits are not going to save us from AI. Rules, internet guidelines, or even lengthy op-eds are not going to turn the machines off now that they’ve been turned on. But we can refuse to engage with them. And the only way that’s going to last is if we are so fulfilled by our work that we don’t need to do it quickly or cheaply.
It’s all a balance without easy answers, and we’re all out here trying our best. I don’t want to shame anyone who monetizes their hobbies or uses AI. As a reminder, I make a living by writing and charging people money to read things that I wrote. But I do want you to remember the feeling you originally got from your art, and if it’s dulled, to try and find it elsewhere. Then guard that place like it’s Fort Knox, and keep the machines as far away from it as possible.
Just a reminder that in the early summer, I’ll be speaking about Funeral Ladies of Ellerie County at the public library in Hartland, WI. I’d love to see you there on June 24! Books will be for sale and I’m happy to sign any that you bring.
I’m currently knee-deep in edits for my next middle grade novel, Each and Every Spark. It releases February of 2026. It’s a historical fiction work taking place in 1943 Paris, and I’m so excited to share more in the coming months.
Also, teachers: if you’re looking to book a school visit for next fall, I would reach out ASAP. I have limited availability left for September + November. Please reach out here if interested—I have a bit more room in my schedule to travel next year and I’d love to come to your school!
And lastly, a book (or two) I’ve loved lately for…
Picture book fans: We’ve been obsessed with Cricket in the Thicket: Poems About Bugs written by Carol Murray and illustrated by Melissa Sweet for National Poetry Month! It’s especially fun how she has little fun facts about each insect to read after each poem. I had no idea that cockroaches are older than most dinosaurs.
Middle graders: Class Action by Steven B. Frank was a really fun read for me this month. It’s about a sixth grader who gets all of his classmates to join a class action lawsuit to get out of doing homework. Lots of great thing to think about, from the point of homework to the structure of the court system, all while being hilarious. Plus a boy narrator, which can be hard to find in modern middle grade.
My kids recommend: Bridget (3) loves reading Worm Weather by Jean Taft with me almost every morning; it’s perfect for spring, and it’s even a poem (bonus in my eyes!) Tess (7) has moved to the Samantha American Girl books, and is particularly fascinated by Nellie the orphan. Benjamin (9) picked up Timeline: A Visual History of Our World by Peter Goes at the library and has been pouring over it day and night. It’s great for kids who are into history, and I’ve even caught myself perusing some of its pages!
Adults: The last month was a bit of a grown-up reading dud for me—lots of books I started but couldn’t get into, or that felt overly preachy, or that seemed to be trying excruciatingly hard. I found myself favoring middle grade novels, picture books, and poems. However, I might be on my way out of the funk. I’m listening to The Romanov Sisters by Helen Rappaport, a fascinating non-fiction book about the last four duchesses, and reading Dear Writer by Maggie Smith, one of my all-time favorite artists.
Thanks for reading along!
Just for a bit of context for those who are newer in these parts: I was raised by a teacher who believed in abolishing grades, reward systems, and homework. The other day I realized I was wearing Birkenstocks, drinking sparkling water, and reading Alfie Kohn—I have literally transformed into my mother. So my education views lean quite unorthodox and homeschool-y, even though I believe in public education and send my own kids to public school.
That doesn’t mean I don’t *do it*, lol. But I try to keep it to the group chat, as the Youths say. ;)
Pay the preschool teachers ALL THE MONEY. Every single time I drop my daughter off, all I can think is “I am so glad that there are people who want to do this because it is a HARD PASS from me.”
And truly: I am so, so glad that the internet has provided so many work-from-home opportunities, especially for parents. I think it’s a very good thing that you can sell your earrings on Etsy or charge for your substack essays on politics.
This is SO good. And in the thick of launching books and proposing the next ones and finishing manuscripts, just what I needed.
I’d also like to tell you that my sourdough starter is still unnamed but I always put the flour in first 😜
Fantastic newsletter, Claire. Non-monetized hobbies are *such* an important part of having a creative job. The thing we used to do for fun / to learn / to scratch that creative itch now has dollars riding on it, and that can be such a joy-killer, sometimes! (I think this is also why so many authors have secret side projects!)