So, Forbes, that bloated magazine your dentist keeps around to prove he’s vaguely “with it,” has decided to grace us with their wisdom on AI writing tools. Bless their hearts. They tested “tech, pet, fitness and home gear for decades,” which, I guess, qualifies them to judge the nuances of artificial intelligence attempting to mimic human creativity. Makes about as much sense as asking a plumber to perform open-heart surgery, but hey, who am I to judge? I’m just a guy with a keyboard and a liver that’s seen better days.
They’ve tested 18 – count ’em, eighteen – AI writing tools. Eighteen programs designed to do what most of us struggle to achieve after a pot of coffee and a pack of cigarettes: string a coherent sentence together. And the winner, the champion of this digital word-slinging rodeo? ParagraphAI.
ParagraphAI, they claim, is “best suited for most people doing routine writing tasks.” Routine. That’s the key word there, folks. Routine like writing those mind-numbing emails to your boss, or crafting those passive-aggressive Slack messages to your coworkers. The kind of writing that makes you question your life choices and reach for another drink.
Apparently, ParagraphAI lets you adjust the tone with sliders. “Formal and informal, friendly and assertive, pessimistic and optimistic.” Sounds like my dating profile, except I’m permanently stuck on “pessimistic” and “needs a drink.” And the fun doesn’t end there, there’s an optional “context field” you can fill out with additional information, like “I am this person’s manager.” Or, “I don’t know why I was included in this thread.” My oh my.
But here’s the thing that really grinds my gears: they praise its ability to “create a unified communication strategy.” Because that’s what the world needs, right? More unified communication. More corporate-speak. More soulless, homogenized drivel churned out by algorithms.
Then there’s Grammarly, the “super-powered AI writing tool for editing.” Basically, it’s the digital equivalent of that annoying English teacher who corrected your grammar in red pen and made you feel like a complete idiot. Except now, it’s powered by AI, so it can judge you even faster and more efficiently.
Grammarly, in its benevolence, also offers tools “designed to guard against accusations of plagiarism.” Because, you know, originality is dead. We’re all just remixing each other’s garbage, and AI is here to help us do it more “efficiently.” They, in their benevolence, also offer features so that “you might find yourself running into the 1,000 prompts per month limit – even if you pay for Grammarly Pro.” My goodness, Forbes.
And for the aspiring novelists out there, struggling to craft the next Great American Novel, Forbes recommends Sudowrite. It’s “built from the ground up for fiction writers,” with tools to “help creative writers plot out their ideas, build worlds and characters, work through writer’s block and interactively complete stories.”
Translation: it’s for people who can’t be bothered to do the actual work of writing. Just feed it a few prompts, and voila! Instant novel. Probably filled with clichés, predictable plot twists, and characters as flat as a week-old beer.
One of the coolest moments – they swear, folks – was when they asked the AI to pick up from where they left in a chapter. Coolest. Moments. Ever.
The AI, of course, “draws on these details to help you write the story you intended”. Of course.
They also gush over Paperpal, the AI writing tool for “the world of academia.” Because nothing says “scholarly excellence” like letting a machine write your dissertation. It can even “search through what the developer claims are 200 million papers for citations and references.” So, you can plagiarize with confidence, knowing that your AI has your back.
The developers behind Paperpal claim it’s “laser-focused on students, supporting academics from high school through the doctorate level.” Which explains the next feature. You can upload a PDF file, and Paperpal will let you ask questions about lengthy documents, “you don’t have time to read or study”. I need a refill.
And finally, for those who find all this AI wizardry too intimidating, there’s Wordtune. It’s “refreshingly simple,” with a “roughly half-dozen buttons” that trigger “very useful and easy-to-understand tools.” Like “Rewrite,” “Formal,” “Casual,” “Expand,” and “Shorten.”
Basically, it’s AI for dummies. Or, as Forbes puts it, “an AI writing tool that anyone can start using in minutes.” Because who needs years of practice and honing your craft when you can just click a button and let the machine do it for you?
But here’s the kicker, the real punchline to this whole sorry saga: these tools are not going to make you a better writer. They might help you polish your turds, but they can’t turn them into gold. They can’t give you a unique voice, a perspective, a soul. They can’t replace the blood, sweat, and tears that go into crafting something truly meaningful.
And here is another fun fact: the Basic plan for Wordtune “won’t get you very far”: after ten daily uses, “you’ll need to pay – and even the $7 per month Advanced subscription offers too little for most users (30 rewrites and suggestions per day), so the $10 per month Unlimited plan is probably the best fit for most people.” My oh my.
So, go ahead, embrace the AI revolution. Let the machines write your emails, your articles, your novels. Let them homogenize our language, strip away our individuality, and turn us all into content-producing robots.
Me? I’ll stick to my whiskey, my cigarettes, and my battered old keyboard. I’ll keep wrestling with words, struggling to find meaning in the chaos, and embracing the messy, imperfect, authentically human experience of writing. Because that’s something no AI, no matter how “advanced,” can ever replicate.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need another drink. Make it a double. And hold the AI.