RAtR: Regency Romance

Read Around the Rainbow

As you’re probably aware, #RAtR is a blogging project I am doing with a few friends who also write LGBTQIA romance. You can find everyone by clicking here or on the image to the right.

This month we are writing about Regency Romance– whether we love it or hate it and why so many people love to both read and write it. This is bang in the middle of my area of interest as both a reader and writer of historical romance.

Firstly then, when, and what, was the Regency? In 1811, George III was finally declared permanently incapable of carrying out his royal duties. His eldest son, Prince George, ‘Prinny’, the next in line to the throne, was therefore installed as Regent. He was a fashion-conscious social butterfly who loved the adulation of his court, was swayed by flattery, resented his parents in the fine tradition of England’s Hanoverian Kings and was moody and mercurial. Between 1811 and 1820 when he became King in his own right is technically the Regency era. However,  socially and culturally the term is used for the period from about 1795 to the ascension of Queen Victoria in 1837. The romance trope sits squarely in this period.

Why do we find it so attractive? My personal feeling is that it’s all down to Jane Austen. Generations of people grew up reading her model of middle class Georgian England. She centered her heroines in the story and we only get a frisson of the messy, dangerous rest of it… Mr Darcy going to London’s stews to find Lydia in Pride and Prejudice (1813); Captain Wentworth taking Ann Elliott’s party to Lyme to meet his friend, maimed aboard ship and living in poverty (Persuasion 1817); Marianne Dashwood falling for a roue and being abandoned in Sense and Sensibility (1811). 

Georgette Heyer and Julia Quinn and their colleagues picked up the trope and ran with it. Sometimes the books aren’t even dated to a particular year and the historical period is contextualised for us through high waisted dresses, being presented at court, going to a  ball, the love interest meeting his friends at Whites, getting vouchers for Almack’s, or having rooms at the Albany. If every hero in every book really had rooms at the Albany, they’d be queuing five deep around the block to get in. 

When we chose this topic, Nell had a minor wobble, because she famously doesn’t read series’ and is dubious about historical romance in general. Several of us yelled at her about K J Charles and Cat Sebastian until she gave in; I recommended she try one of my favourites, A Seditious Affair by K J Charles. A dour book shop owner and publisher of seditious leaflets falls for a Home Office official who is tasked with suppressing dissent. Learn about the Cato Street Plot here! It’s the second of a trilogy called The Company of Gentlemen, which each focus on a different couple in a group of friends although I think it stands happily alone. The trilogy slides seamlessly into the London of it’s time, with Molly Houses, lamp-boys leading you astray in the fog, not having enough coal for a bath, being transported for seditious dissent and freed slaves; alongside clubs, tailors, country houses and banging unsuitable people in curtained alcoves. I’ll be interested to see whether Nell read it and what she made of it!

At the moment I’m reading The Oak and the Ash by Annick Trent, a new to me author. It’s part of a loosely connected series and this one is set at the end of the 1790s. So far I haven’t been able to pin an actual date. The whole feeling of it is Regency though, which is what I meant about it sometimes being  a trope rather than a precise dating. In this story, a surgeon and a valet slowly fall in love after the valets employer — happily in an open marriage with a wife who has a lover as he has his — is injured in a duel. I’m looking forward to exploring more of the collection. It gives a gritty portrayal of the life of ordinary people, with a seditious newspaper, a reading club and the valet-protagonist fascinated with meteorological observations.

I suppose I should also hat-tip myself — The Flowers of Time, my own lesbian/non-binary/bisexual romance is set in the 1780s. It’s firmly pre-regency — we are still worrying about American Independence and the French Revolution — but  we do get a flash forward at the end, with Jones and Edie watching Queen Victoria’s coronation and talking about taking the train. I think we forget people lived long and rich lives either side of the periods we set our stories.

I also want to hat-tip the lovely Ellie, my fellow RAtR blogger, who has a collection of Regency stories that I have to my shame not read. I am actually on holiday this week — I’m writing this on the plane, get me! — and I plan to rectify that as soon as I hit the lounger by the pool this afternoon.

So that’s the post! Please do check out what my colleagues have to say on the subject!

(Due to my extreme inability to use Jetpack on my phone and my refusal to bring my laptop with me on holiday I am having trouble with inserting links, for which I apologise -the below links go to last month’s posts.)

To read what my Read Around the Rainbow colleagues have written about Dark Romance, click through below!

Nellhttps://elliethomasromance.wordpress.com/ IrisOfelia Grand : Lillian Francis : Fiona Glass : Amy Spector : Ellie Thomas : Holly Day : K. L. Noone : Addison Albright

RAtR: Kind of, anyway

Read Around the Rainbow

As you’re probably aware, #RAtR is a blogging project I am doing with a few friends who also write LGBTQIA romance. You can find everyone by clicking here or on the image to the right.

Hi! Hello! The observant among you will have noticed I have been absent from RAtR, and pretty much everywhere else, for the best part of a year. In that time I’ve sent out a couple of newsletters I think and put one or two things on my FB group. But essentially I’ve been focusing on family.

Littlest became very ill with a respiratory infection last September. She was in hospital for five months and became critically ill the week before Christmas. We prepared for the worst; and then the day before Christmas Eve she didn’t quite sit up and demand a bacon sandwich. But she pulled round very quickly and was discharged to home in the second week of January. We knew we were on borrowed time and amended her Advanced Care Plan accordingly.

Health and Social Care pulled a number of rabbits out of their various hats and we had an incredible amount of help put in place at home. She was largely confined to bed initially, but then towards the end of February she improved further and was able to get out and about a couple of times a week. She thoroughly enjoyed it, as she was so bored in bed. We focused on ‘quality over quantity’ and organised for her to go back to school for a few hours a week.

Luck was always against us though, and at the end of June, she passed away of COVID. It was quick, at home and surrounded by family who loved her. She was fifteen.

We are now at the end of August and I am just beginning to realise she’s not coming back.  I lie in bed at night, and in my head I imagine she is asleep next door, and I can hear the quiet thump of the oxygen condenser and swsssh of the ventilator. That any moment she will mutter in her sleep or call out for one of us to come and reposition her, or pick up the cuddly toys she has thrown overboard.

It is inconceivable to me that she is gone, although we knew that this moment would happen. The house is bare without her mobility aids and when the team came to remove the ceiling hoists, I cried. If we go out, I still rush, and check my watch, and count minutes off on my head so we won’t be back late for her carers. Our grocery shopping no longer has regular bumper-packs of wet-wipes and hand sanitiser, or tins and tins of tinned fruit and yoghurt and other things to put in her tube feeds. The carpets are exponentially cleaner because she is not tracking half the countryside in on the wheels of the wheelchair. Our washing machine use has halved.

I cannot watch TV programs with bereavements, or ones with young children who giggle when their parents boop their nose. Watching, I get a physical pressure in my chest, a stone sitting on my heart and I cannot bear it.

My daughter is dead, and nothing will ever be the same again. I feel guilt, that perhaps I didn’t do enough. I constantly feel I’ve forgotten something; that ‘Oh shit I left the baby at the Post Office!’ feeling. But there is no baby now and the Post Office has been permanently closed.

A part of me is relieved. Relieved for her, that she no longer has to struggle. But also selfishly relieved for myself that I no longer have to write emails and make phonecalls and fight and fight for her care and her health and her education. I am tired. We are both so tired. If you’ve never cared for anyone long-term, you have no idea how tired you can be.

For the first month, we both just wandered around in a daze. We had nightmares, we had insomnia, we slept at odd times. Now, at the end of the second month we are sleeping better. I am dragging myself out of bed each morning instead of staying in my pyjamas all day. We are trying to keep occupied. If I’m not occupied, I seem to go into a fugue state where all I do is stare at the wall and feel the enormous weight of my grief, like a horsehair blanket thrown over me, muffling everything in the world.

Writing has been impossible for the last twelve months. I am starting, very slowly, to feel neurons come back online though. Memories I had lost pop up regularly now I have all that extra processing power freed up and can sleep for eight hours a night. I am hoping I might be able to begin to write again soon, but I’m not going to push myself. For once in my life I am going to take the time that I need. That’s why I am writing this instead of the Dark Romance topic. Next month, I hope I can join in with the team and get back on track. 

For their thoughts on Dark Romance, check out their blogs:

To read what my Read Around the Rainbow colleagues have written about Dark Romance, click through below!

Nell IrisOfelia Grand : Lillian Francis : Fiona Glass : Amy Spector : Ellie Thomas : Holly Day : K. L. Noone : Addison Albright

RAtR: After The End

Read Around the Rainbow

As you’re probably aware, #RAtR is a blogging project I am doing with a few friends who also write LGBTQIA romance. You can find everyone by clicking here or on the image to the right.

This isn’t a treatise on dystopian fictions! This month, we are writing about what happens after a writer types THE END in capital letters, centres them, saves the file and posts all over their social media that their masterpiece has finished?

Erm. Well. Lots and lots. And I guess people work in different ways, so this is my own process. I’m looking forward to reading what my #RAtR colleagues do and how their approach differs.

I’m going to assume infinite time, here, rather than working to a deadline, which might mean steps are compressed or jumped.

I write in Scrivenor, usually with the document divided up into chapters or into point of view (POV) which are sometimes the same thing. I colour-code my character points of view so if I want to I can narrow down my view to see which part of the story individual characters are narrating. I try and write between one and two thousand words per session (every day if I’m on form), and at the beginning of each session I go back and read what I wrote the day before and tweak it.

 The first thing to do once I get to the end of the story is go right back to the beginning and search for every instance of four stars, ****, which I use to leave myself notes.

Usually past-Ally says things like ****PUT IN MORE SEX HERE or ****WORK OUT BACKGROUND AND INSERT HERE, or ****LOOK UP LENGTH OF CHAMPS ELYSEES, or ****MAKE CHARACTER MORE LIKEABLE HE’S A SHIT-HEAD or even just a bare ****400 MORE WORDS HERE. Present-Ally is always absolutely delighted to find these little reminders of how slack past-Ally has been.

Once I’ve done this and I’m happy with what I’ve got, I export the document to Word. With some judicious formatting, that turns it into a coherent draft that I can send off to my lovely beta readers with chapter headings, a rough blurb at the beginning and an index. Usually I go through before I do that and try and do line edits to remove instances of words like just, then, really and my subconscious’ current favourite, a bit. Sometimes past-Ally doesn’t do that though and I include a note to my betas to say please ignore the slacker.

At this point if I’m self-publishing, I make a cover (if I haven’t already) and put the book up for preorder on the various ebook platforms.

If I’m working with a publisher (shout-out to JMS Books!) I fill in a blurb form and I look at the stock photo sites they use to find a few images that I feel are suitable and fill in a cover form describing what I would like.

Once the beta notes are back, I go through the manuscript and take the beta feedback on board. Then I do a rough proof read.

Then if it’s a publisher-book, I send the manuscript, the blurb form and the cover form off to the publisher, who sends me a contract to sign digitally (after careful reading of course!). If it’s a self-published book, I send it off to my editor.

Then, either way I’m working, I make a load of promotional images in Canva and I put together a document with various social media posts I can use for marketing. The first line, a kiss snippet, that sort of thing. I sometime create posts and visuals with a character sketch. I update my website and social media headers with graphics of the new book.

Once I have a cover, I put together a media pack, which is basically a document with all the info bloggers and reviewers could need to decide whether they want to host a release announcement or request an Advanced Reader Copy (ARC). So, publication date, ISBN number, links to where it can be pre-ordered/bought, keywords, a tag-line, the blurb, the cover, and perhaps an excerpt. Oh, and a little biography at the bottom with my social links.

Then I decide how skint I am and either pay for a blog tour, someone to approach reviewers and bloggers for me; or I contact them myself.

All this time I am writing every morning, working on my next story. And I am doing a bit of social media activity to remind readers I exist, plus sending out my newsletter. And I am maybe tweaking my Amazon Ads and my Facebook Ads if I have them running.

After two or three weeks, then, I get the first round of edits back from my editor. I go over the manuscript and accept or reject her corrections and suggestions. She does a light proof at this point and leaves me sarcastic comments if she finds anything that doesn’t make sense. I do even more proofing and take her advice about the things that don’t make sense, leaving her equally sarcastic comments. Then I send the manuscript back.

We do that a couple of times more and when I’m happy with it I listen to it through using the Word Read Aloud function. It’s much the best way to catch spelling errors and autocorrects that have slipped by. Then, I turn it in to an ARC copy and I send it out to my ARC readers and any reviewers who have requested it and I load it up on to the ebook sales sites that I have put the preorders up on.

That’s it, basically. I spend far more time on the ‘after THE END’ part than I do writing. It’s so easy to get sucked into the marketing, social media and tweaking advertisements or your website part of the cycle than it is to knuckle down and actually produce words. I’m not unusual in this. I haven’t read any of my colleagues’ pieces at the time of writing this, but I bet my sizeable arse that they are saying much the same thing.

Obviously I publish with a small press; if you work with a larger press or are traditionally published with one of the big five, the process is different—much more drawn out for a start. However, I’m very happy with my hybrid set-up, with some of my work being all my own responsibility and some being partly the publisher. Unless you’re a mega-seller these days, you do most of your own marketing as a writer, however you’re published.

So…have a look at what my colleagues have written here!

To read what my Read Around the Rainbow colleagues have written about seasonal reads, click through below!

Nell IrisOfelia Grand : Lillian FrancisFiona Glass : Amy Spector : Ellie Thomas : Holly Day : K. L. NooneAddison Albright

#RAtR: Seasonal Reads, yes or no?

Read Around the Rainbow

As you’re probably aware, #RAtR is a blogging project I am doing with a few friends who also write LGBTQIA romance. You can find everyone by clicking here or on the image to the right.

Morning! We had a quite a long rambling discussion about this topic when we were discussing what to write this month. It turns out the group is firmly divided in to “I love seasonal reads!” and “I hate seasonal reads!”.

I’m pretty firmly in the latter group; except when I started actually thinking about it, it’s more that I usually avoid stories about Christmas. This dovetails nicely with my not-much-liking-Christmas-generally thing, so I feel I understand myself better now 😊.

Summer reads though…are they books set in the summer? Or books you are supposed to read whilst lying on the beach?

I never do the latter and although I’m sat in my conservatory looking out at the garden, this British July day is full of grey drizzle, so to get in to a proper summer mood I would need to be reading something where the main characters are wearing waders and sou’westers.

I think it’s the flavour of the book that makes something reminiscent of a particular season for me. Cider With Rosie by Laurie Lee will forever be associated for me with the summer of my O-Levels where we studied it for English Lit. But also for the scene where he talks about the women bringing the men their dinner out to the fields and sitting and eating with them; and hanging the stone cider flagons in the stream before they started work to cool them down for dinner time. I don’t know why that resonated so strongly for me. But it did. I can’t remember that happening, although I can remember playing in and out of the rows of drying hay as a child—the smell, the feel of the sun on your skin, that sense of freedom—that’s the essence of summer for me.

Cover, Taking Stock

Perhaps that’s why I find it hard to make a list of books in the queer romance genre that I can put on a summer reads list? I like my romance with some angst, generally speaking. And angst tends not to vibe with long summer evenings and swifts dipping low over the river. Although perhaps I should see that as a challenge and try and write one. You could try Taking Stock, I guess? That does have kissing by the not-quite-magical pool and sun dappling the sheep shearers through the chestnut trees and lots and lots of angst, because Laurie has had a stroke and can’t farm his own farm any more; and Phil has been set up by his ex-boyfriend to take the fall for fraud.

I’m much happier with Halloween, which seems to be the next thing in the calendar people write around. I like Gregory Ashe’s DuPage Parish Mysteries, which are satisfactorily creepy but also funny in Ashe’s inimitable style. Wendigos, anyone? I’m also keen on The Pumpkin Patch by Darien Cox and Kade Boeme, which is the only time I’ve ever voluntarily picked up something I knew to be a Halloween story before I read it, largely because the cover is smothered in pumpkins! It’s still a murder-mystery, which is why I like it. Darien Cox is an auto-buy for me, which is what overcame what I like to think of my natural reticence to engage with what’s mostly a US-ian holiday :). I’ve also got my own sapphic Sleeping Dogs, which is a short story based on the Celtic myth of black dogs. It seemed like Halloween was a good time to release something creepy. It’s just come out of KU and should be making its way wide in the next couple of weeks.

As far as Christmas is concerned. Well. Don’t get me started. I hate the drama around the whole season! And I just don’t get the whole Christmas in July thing. However, as far as Christmas-themed stories go, I make an exception for Miss Claus by J. R. Hart, which is a lovely story of Santa Claus’ daughter which also happens to have excellent trans rep. Plus…who can forget Masters in This Hall by K. J. Charles, the third in the Lilywhite Boys series? If light-fingered thieves and fake-medieval Christmases are your thing, I recommend. And also… my own sapphic Surfacing Again is set over Christmas on the island of Lindisfarne. It’s kind of sad? But also it has a happy ending. And otters.

close up shot of otters

I hope that gives you something to get your teeth in to. I’m looking forward to reading my colleague’s recommendations for their ultimate summer reads and I’d love to hear your own favourites.

To read what my Read Around the Rainbow colleagues have written about seasonal reads, click through below!

Nell IrisOfelia Grand : Lillian Francis : Fiona Glass : Amy Spector : Ellie Thomas : Holly Day : K. L. Noone : Addison Albright

#ReadAroundtheRainbow: AI Versus the Writer

Read Around the Rainbow

As you’re probably aware, #RAtR is a blogging project I am doing with a few friends who also write LGBTQIA romance. You can find everyone by clicking here or on the image to the right.

So this month’s project is basically messing around with AI chatbots. Collectively, along with most other creatives, the Read Around the Rainbow group are very concerned with the way there seems to be a minority cohort who think AIs can replace human artists and writers. So we decided to write from a prompt ourselves; and then ask one of the Chatbot AIs to write from the same prompt, and compare the two.

person reaching out to a robot

The results are pretty hilarious and I honestly don’t think this generation of bots are going to replace us fiction writers. Am I concerned about ‘writers’ using them to generate whole books and dumping them on KU? Yes, yes I am.

However, I don’t think the work is going to compare, at least not with this iteration of bots, whether they are trained on the AO3 archive and free stories the creators have grabbed from Smashwords or stories they have scraped from elsewhere. A lot of AI models are trained on Bookcorpus, it turns out, which used fanfic and free Smashwords books as part of its dataset without the consent of the authors. You can read more about that here. This qualifies as stealing other people’s work, bigtime, so that’s yet another huge reason not to use an AI to churn out another quick 50k variation of Pride and Prejudice and make money from it.

As you know if you know me at all, I read a lot of science fiction. My imaginary future does not include a world where the robots do all the fun, creative, imaginary stuff and humans are still forced to do minimum-wage schtick to survive.

Apart from that major issue, I guess… my main question is, what’s the point? What’s the point of getting these language bots to write fiction, or produce art? Creative work is supposed to be fulfilling for both the creator and the people who interact with it. It’s supposed to prompt an emotional response and engagement from both sides. You create your piece, which gives you an emotional response. And if you choose to, you set it free in the world for other people to engage with and respond to.

Firstly… these bots are not actually AI. They are language bots. They don’t remember interacting with you. They’re not people. They don’t have emotions. They aren’t engaged with what they produce on any level other than working out which word follows which in response to the prompt you give them within the guidelines of the dataset they’ve been trained on. So… that’s the biggest part of the creative process missing.

And secondly–the quality of what they are producing is just awful. I think you can get something vaguely workmanlike if you feed it the right prompts, but having looked at most of the pieces my #RAtR colleagues have generated for this… well. They all very much reminds me of the story I wrote for Mrs Lowe in Year 3, when my character went up a mountain and they climbed and climbed and climbed and climbed for about six lines and she told me off for repeating myself too much just to fill up the page.

These bots don’t have the depth of emotion, the life experience or the imagination that humans do. They don’t have feelings, they have simply have logical responses. If they were AIs in the sense that Iain M. Banks’ ‘Minds’ are, then that would be different. They’d be able to independently produce art and engage with what they produce on an emotional level. That would be as worthwhile as human creations.

However, when you aren’t interacting with it, Chat GPT (the one I used for this exercise) doesn’t do any thinking for itself. It doesn’t lie awake at night wondering what to write or paint next. It doesn’t feel sad if it can’t quite get the right word or colour. What it produces is a flat, featureless mish-mash of best-fit words without the context of human experience.

I’ve got a couple of examples here so you can see for yourself. First I asked it to write a 300 word gay romance story set in London in 1942.

In the midst of war-torn London in 1942, a clandestine love story unfolded against a backdrop of danger and uncertainty. Meet William and Thomas, two souls entangled in a forbidden romance that defied the confines of a society gripped by fear and prejudice.
William, a stoic and determined young man, found himself in the chaos of war as an air raid warden. His duty was to protect the city and its inhabitants from the relentless bombings, a responsibility that weighed heavily on his shoulders. Yet, amidst the sirens and crumbling buildings, he discovered solace in an unexpected encounter.
Thomas, an artist with a gentle spirit, captured William's attention with his striking blue eyes and warm smile. They met in a quaint café tucked away in the heart of the city, seeking refuge from the harsh realities of their lives. Their connection was instantaneous, their hearts drawn together like magnets in a world tearing them apart.
As their relationship blossomed in the shadows, they found solace in stolen moments. Hand in hand, they explored the deserted streets of London, seeking sanctuary in hidden parks and forgotten alleyways. Their love grew amidst the rubble, fueled by whispered promises and stolen kisses that carried a weight of both passion and danger.
The nights they spent together were their refuge from the harshness of the war. In the flickering candlelight, they shared their hopes, dreams, and fears, weaving a tapestry of love and resilience. Their moments together became a sanctuary, a fleeting respite from the chaos that surrounded them.
But the war threatened to tear them apart. Duty called William away, and he found himself deployed to a distant battlefield. With each passing day, their hearts ached in longing, their love tested by the distance that separated them. Yet, their spirits remained intertwined, an unbreakable bond forged in the crucible of war.
When the war finally drew to a close, William returned to London, his heart yearning for the one he loved. The scars of battle etched upon him, he searched for Thomas amidst the city's streets. And there, in the midst of a crowd, they found each other once again.
Their love, forged in the fires of war, stood strong against the trials they had endured. They vowed to build a future together, to create a world where their love could flourish without fear or prejudice. As London slowly rebuilt itself, William and Thomas wrote their own chapter of resilience and love, an enduring testament to the power of the human spirit.

It’s not quite so grim if you feed it back to itself and ask it to include dialogue:

In the midst of war-torn London in 1942, a clandestine love story unfolded against a backdrop of danger and uncertainty. Meet William and Thomas, two souls entangled in a forbidden romance that defied the confines of a society gripped by fear and prejudice.
William, a stoic and determined young man, found himself in the chaos of war as an air raid warden. His duty was to protect the city and its inhabitants from the relentless bombings, a responsibility that weighed heavily on his shoulders. Yet, amidst the sirens and crumbling buildings, he discovered solace in an unexpected encounter.
One evening, as William patrolled the streets, he noticed a figure sitting on a bench. Thomas, an artist with a gentle spirit, captured William's attention with his striking blue eyes and warm smile. Curiosity pulled William closer, and he cautiously approached.
"May I sit?" William asked, his voice laced with a mix of wariness and longing.
Thomas looked up, his smile widening. "Please, join me. It's a chaotic world out there."
Their connection was instantaneous, their hearts drawn together like magnets in a world tearing them apart.
As their relationship blossomed in the shadows, they found solace in stolen moments. Hand in hand, they explored the deserted streets of London, seeking sanctuary in hidden parks and forgotten alleyways. Their love grew amidst the rubble, fueled by whispered promises and stolen kisses that carried a weight of both passion and danger.
In the flickering candlelight of their secret nights together, they shared their hopes, dreams, and fears.
"I fear for what the future holds," William admitted, his voice laced with vulnerability.
Thomas squeezed his hand gently. "As long as we have each other, we'll find the strength to face it, my love."
Their moments together became a sanctuary, a fleeting respite from the chaos that surrounded them.
But the war threatened to tear them apart. Duty called William away, and he found himself deployed to a distant battlefield. With each passing day, their hearts ached in longing, their love tested by the distance that separated them.
When the war finally drew to a close, William returned to London, his heart yearning for the one he loved. The scars of battle etched upon him, he searched for Thomas amidst the city's streets. And there, in the midst of a crowd, they found each other once again.
Their eyes met, and a sense of relief washed over them.
"Thomas," William breathed, his voice filled with reverence and love.
Thomas smiled, tears glistening in his eyes. "You came back to me."
Their love, forged in the fires of war, stood strong against the trials they had endured. They vowed to build a future together, to create a world where their love could flourish without fear or prejudice. As London slowly rebuilt itself, William and Thomas wrote their own chapter of resilience and love, an enduring testament to the power of the human spirit.

It’s just… flat? I guess? And it’s not at all subtle, which is probably the main thing about it that makes my teeth itch. It’s a story, sure. But…it’s not, really, is it? There’s no depth to it, nothing underneath the surface. Also, wandering round London holding hands in 1942 would have been a recipe for both a kicking and a prison sentence. And I’m not sure what we’re doing with flickering candlelight; maybe the Blitz has knackered all the electricity though, so we’ll let that one pass.

Compare that to the beginning of the last chapter of my own An Irregular Arrangement. (10,500 words, free low-heat poly novella, starts just after WW1, finishes in WW2, download it here)

“Are you coming down this weekend?” Val asked Rupert, as they waited for the barman to fill their drinks. They were both propped comfortably against the polished oak of the bar, each with a foot resting on the brass rail. It was a cool early autumn evening, reminiscent of the one where they’d first met each other twenty years ago.
“I’m coming down for good, I think,” Rupert said. He was hunched a little in his overcoat and Val thought he looked tired. “My nerves are shredding. I can do more good down with you than I can up here being a bag of jelly. And people who are going to help financially know where we are after all this time, I don’t need to be up here touting for help like I was in the beginning.”
Val took the drinks and paid for them, nodding thanks to the landlord as they turned away and made for a table in the corner. It was quiet, early, and still light outside. The sirens hadn’t gone off yet.
“We’ve got a couple of dozen kids at the moment,” Val said. “They come and go, some of them. But it looks like most of them are with us for the long haul.”
“That’s good. The poor little buggers need some stability.” Rupert nodded at the street outside through the window heavily crisscrossed with blackout tape, as he chucked his hat onto the table and shrugged out of his heavy coat. “God knows there’s little enough out there.”
“Tim sends his love, as always,” Val said. “Flora said I was to tell you to get a move on.” They peered suspiciously over the table in the dim light of the pub as they sat. “Have you been talking to her about moving down?”
“I may have mentioned it. I didn’t want to tell Tim in case it got his hopes up and I decided not to. You know how he worries.”
Val nodded. “He’s been fine though. Missing you, obviously. He’ll be happy to have you down to help with the paperwork. We’ve got a system for their ration cards and what-not now, and it’s all quite organised, but you know how he hates that sort of thing. And Mrs Rathbone is the Evacuee Officer. If you can take that bit over for him, he’ll love you even more than he does already. She still hates him.”
Rupert laughed. “She must be about a hundred and five by now, surely?”
“Yes, but she’s still putting her nose in everywhere. She’s doing some good now though, she’s very efficient organising which children go where and she’s good with the kids themselves, which I didn’t expect.”

I’m not a great writer. I’ll never be a great writer. But I’m an okay writer; I like what I create and I enjoy the process (mostly!). I think about it and I put my heart in to it. And I think that’s the difference. There’s depth to this piece–to all the pieces we’ve written between us for this blog prompt. The AI ones all seem to be a veneer of a story with nothing underneath.

So here’s my definitive list of reasons why using AI for creative stuff is bad.

  1. The results are frankly terrible. There’s no depth there, because AIs don’t experience human emotion. They’re just language generators. There’s no creative process behind them. Which takes me to point #2.
  2. There’s no creative value to the work. There’s literally no point to it other than the end result. That’s fine for management documentation and marketing articles. The end-result is the point. But half the point of a creative work is the creator’s interaction with it. That goes for students churning out academic essays too… What’s the point? Doing that work is to help them learn new skills and grow. The process is the point. If you don’t want to develop those skills; don’t go to college.
  3. These language and art bots have been trained on plagiarised work. They’ve taken other people’s stuff and used it without permission. They’re created through other people’s hard work and creativity. They’re stolen goods. People who use them, whether they pass that work off as their own or not, are using stolen work. Which leads us on to #4.
  4. AI creation… words, music, art… puts human creatives out of business. Living in an orange-box furnished garret whilst producing beautiful things is very romantic; but eating is nice too.

I’m hoping this whole AI thing will just be a fad, like NFTs and Crypto–yet another techbro thing that these people haven’t stopped to think deeply about.

Just because we can do it, does that mean we should? My answer is no.

Finally, there’s a good interview in The Guardian this week with Timnit Gebru, who was sacked by Google for her stance on AI. AI’s Dangers and Big Tech’s Biases is partly about how AIs are biased around the dataset they are trained on. It’s particularly interesting to me because one of the models Ellie Thomas tried out for this piece told her that it could not write her a gay romance story because that was offensive.

To read what my Read Around the Rainbow colleagues have written on the subject–and what they managed to get the AI to generate–click through below!

Nell IrisOfelia Grand : Lillian FrancisFiona Glass : Amy Spector : Ellie Thomas : Holly Day : K. L. Noone : Addison Albright