Why Write?

The widespread adoption of AI has changed writing forever. Why write at all, if a series of prompts can do it for you?

We write because it’s one of the few ways we can move thoughts out of our minds. Writing is not simply the act of putting words on a page; it is the slow shaping of intention and feeling into something that can be shared with another person. The way words come together matters. Rhythm, uncertainty, and even hesitation are part of the process. When writing works, you can sense the person thinking about what needs to be said and how it needs to land.

Writing is not about producing something polished; it’s about discovering what you actually think by allowing yourself to write it down. Stream-of-consciousness notes, half-sentences, awkward phrasing, ideas that circle rather than resolve - these represent the beginning of thought. Much of today’s AI-assisted writing disrupts this process. It produces text that is technically correct and stylistically smooth, but devoid of personality. It prioritizes familiarity and optimization over nuance and thought. What it generates is not a message, but digestible content that can circulate easily.

Media theorist Henry Jenkins once offered a useful way of understanding this shift. In Spreadable Media (2013), Jenkins distinguished between media that is meaningful because it invites participation and interpretation, and media that spreads because it is frictionless, adaptable, and easy to pass along. Spreadability, in this sense, is not inherently valuable. Content can circulate widely without offering depth or emotional engagement.

Early digital writing spaces were not about this. Blogs, LiveJournal, forums, and early platforms like Wattpad encouraged self-expression, experimentation, and personal voice. People wrote to understand themselves and to be understood by others, not for engagement. Those spaces mattered because writing was allowed to be raw. There was no pressure to sound authoritative or relevant. There were no buzzwords to chase and no algorithms to satisfy. Writers shared themselves, not amalgamations of what everyone else was already saying. Meaning came from the courage to say something personal rather than something acceptable.

That impulse has not disappeared, even if people today feel pressured to focus on performance and visibility. Most people already know that writing meant to hook or trend rarely moves anyone very deeply. On the other hand, writing that resonates tends to be slower, more intentional, and more personal. This is why writing still matters. Not as a product to be posted, but as an act of communication that creates an affective response. Writing that carries intention doesn’t ask how it will perform; it asks whether it’s saying something real, or something that could not have been written in the exact the same way by anyone else.

Seeking help in this process does not diminish the work, but enhances it. Editing, revision, and collaboration are not about making writing generic or correct; they are about helping writers hear and trust their own voice. Writing that matters is not born finished. It is shaped through care, attention, and a willingness to stay with the thinking long enough for meaning to emerge.

Jenkins, H., Ford, S., & Green, J. (2013). Spreadable Media: Creating Value and Meaning in a Networked Culture. New York: New York University Press.