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Buckle up for the AI future — it's wild.
By Elizabeth Broadbent — Written on Feb 07, 2023
Face it: Valentine's Day is on the way, and you’re lazy. I’m lazy. I also suck at love letters.
I can write a novel, but my poetic talents are more like a third-grader’s: “My love is like a red red rose . . .” after that, I lose steam and degenerate into “Roses are red/ Violets are blue" nonsense.
In other words, I suck at love — and not in a sexy way.
But I heard about this new AI tech.
Artificial intelligence writing works like this: you input a title, and the Magical Tech Gods write you an Insta caption or cover letter or business proposal, or blog post. I picked a free AI writing app, Neuroflash, signed up, and chose the option “blog post.” It seemed closest to my goal of a “love letter,” right?
I titled my blog post “Love Letter to My Husband,” and chose the subject “Love Letter to my Husband.” It seemed most effective.
This generated a list of blog titles: For Better or Worse: Why I’ll Always Love My Husband, A Love Letter to My Husband: What I Cherish Most About Him, Why I Love My Husband, What I Love Most About My Husband, Reasons My Husband is the Best — a total of a dozen dizzying options.
I picked “Why I Love My Husband.” Simple. Easy. On point.
AI generated three freaking outlines for my letter. I had choices. I chose the one I liked best, then hit “Generate Full Post.”
It spit out a whole letter.
That letter was generic, comprehensive, and vague. So vague, in fact, that it named a number of reasons that I do, indeed, love my husband: he’s “been there through thick and thin,” “he makes me laugh,” “he’s a great listener,” and “he’s a great partner in crime.” This creeped me out—deeply.
But as a blog post, it used that bothersome third person, rather than second: “he” instead of “you.”
But then the Magical Tech Gods gave me a chance to edit that supposed blog post — and corrected my grammar as went along.
Every “he” became “you.” I cut repetition, which AI seems to enjoy. Then I decided to add something about my husband's overall hotness, because, you know, V-Day.
I solved this problem by generating another blog post titled "My Husband is Hot," which stole a paragraph or two that I corrected via AI, and stuck it in the google doc where I’d copied my letter.
Mission Love Letter accomplished.
“You're my best friend and closest confidante. We've been through a lot together, and I can't imagine my life without you by my side. You're always ready and willing to take on whatever adventure I have planned. Whether we're exploring new restaurants or hiking through the woods, you're always game...
“You make me laugh. You're the most amazing man I've ever met. You're kind and thoughtful. You're the perfect husband, and I'm so lucky to have you. When we first met, I knew there was something special about you. We started dating, and it wasn't long before we were living together. As time went on, our relationship grew stronger, and we started talking about getting married. We finally did, and it was the best decision we ever made...
“You're the love of my life. I love you more than words can ever express, my sweetheart. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I'm so grateful that we found each other. I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together.”
That entire process lasted twenty minutes, including email sign-up.
As a freelance writer who’s published work everywhere, these Magical Tech Gods hurt my soul. My inner fiction writer considered walking quietly into the sea. I couldn’t stand to show my letter to my husband.
It was too real.
It was too fake.
It was too ... replaceable.
My (authentic!) feelings had been distilled into several paragraphs of vaguely written tripe culled from various internet sources, mashed together, and tied up in a neat little bow. It was masterful. It was horrific. It was machine-made love. Video killed the radio star, except I was the radio star.
Then I did show it to my husband. He called it "super, super creepy, omg."
I’ll try a real love letter. I don’t care if it sounds like a third-grader. At least I’ll have written the darn thing. At least it won’t be Frankensteined by The Magical Tech Gods.
If you need me, I’ll be quietly weeping in a corner and writing bad poetry — something like my high school goth days, only much darker.
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Elizabeth Broadbent is a freelance writer who has been published in the Washington Post and Insider Magazine. She also writes speculative fiction. Her upcoming novelette will be published with Emerge Literary Journal in April 2023.