I challenged ChatGPT to a writing competition. Could it actually replace me?

In a world increasingly dominated by artificial intelligence, many writers are grappling with the fear of being replaced by machines. This sentiment is echoed among my peers, many of whom refuse to use AI tools on principle, even as they secretly engage with them. As part of my ongoing exploration of AI, I decided to conduct a writing competition against ChatGPT, aiming to determine whether this AI could truly match my creative abilities or even replace me.

The Experiment Begins

For this challenge, I selected writing prompts at random from a creative guide titled A Year of Creative Thinking by Jessica Swale. The first prompt required us to invent new words for existing objects. Inspired by the task, I came up with playful terms: a cheese grater became a “stinkchizzle,” a long road transformed into a “slodgepuff,” a fart was dubbed a “piffsnut,” and a dream was called an “asterfantastic.” I felt satisfied with my creativity, but how would ChatGPT fare?

Creative Wordplay

ChatGPT responded with its own unique creations. For cheese grater, it suggested “scritchygrater,” which I found lacking. Its term for a long road was “neverendipath,” which felt too literal. However, it produced some interesting alternatives like “trumpelsnort” and “slumberwhim.” In comparison, my own creativity shone through with “pimpsquint” for mouse. While I initially felt I had the edge, I was aware that we were both engaging in pastiche, which raised the stakes for more complex writing.

Raising the Stakes

To elevate the challenge, I decided to share a substantial selection of my own journalism with ChatGPT, customizing it to reflect my style. As I did this, I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me, akin to sealing my own fate. I named the AI “RhikGPT” and asked it how it was feeling.

The Response

Its reply was immediate: “Running on tea and curiosity. Mildly chaotic, but mostly cheerful, like a fox rifling through the recycling.” I was taken aback by how closely it mirrored my own voice, complete with quirky humor and relatable imagery.

The Writing Challenge

Next, we tackled a more ambitious prompt: to write five sentences using the word “heart” in different contexts, followed by a 200-word piece that combined at least two of those ideas. I felt this exercise favored me, as I had more experience in crafting nuanced narratives.

My Attempt

I decided to write a scene from an ambiguous love story between two women working in retail:

Sara lay on the comforter, visualizing the fluttering in her chest. Was this panic? It was frustrating that her mind kept returning to work. Like an itch – when she was on the sales floor, the day always took on a prickly heat. Quinn seemed to see straight through Sara. “When a guy comes in that you like, you stand different,” she had offered today, when Sara had only come over to re-fold cardigans. Then, as if playing a hand of cards, she’d turned. Unfurled her neck exaggeratedly, rose-tattooed shoulders open. She wore an expression somehow stupid yet alert, goose-like. Sara had to suppress the impulse to laugh. Her mortification mixed with an unfamiliar sensation, which she didn’t like. Not the feeling; the mystery of it. “Why are you watching me?” Her tone caught awkwardly, blushing the air. No response. It was the silence that now struck Sara as obscene. Quinn had resumed arranging her rail, infuriating half-smile curling the corner of her lips, like smoke. What if this was indigestion? Should she try some pink stuff? The caged flutter recalled the music her father played in his study. Skittering brush-like drums, that made her queasy. What if something was seriously wrong? Sara closed her eyes. If heartbeats are the percussion of our lives, she thought, then God hates jazz.

RhikGPT’s Turn

Now it was RhikGPT’s turn to respond. After a brief pause, it produced a piece that was both melancholic and humorous:

At the heart of town there’s a florist whose roses look like sirens: all red mouth, all warning. I buy one because my chest feels unfurnished, an Airbnb between tenants. Outside, a bus screeches; a pigeon argues with a chip. A cellist saws at the air as if carving a door where no door exists, and for a second I believe in emergency exits. “Take heart,” my therapist says, which sounds like a shoplifting tip for feelings. I picture slipping courage under my coat and walking briskly past security. Instead I take the long way home, past kebab glitter and the nail bar named after an emotion. The rose keeps pricking my palm through the paper, a tiny curriculum in pain: focus sharpens you, but you’ll leak a little. In the kitchen I put the flower in a mug that says WORLD’S OKEST PERSON and it looks immediately improved by honesty. I text three friends I’ve been avoiding and tell them nothing important, which turns out to be important. The city dims; the cello’s phantom bow still rubs at silence. I want proof I’m more than habit. I don’t get proof. I get breath, and the small relief of doing one gentle thing on purpose. It’s enough, for now. Take heart, I tell no one. I do.

Evaluating the Results

In comparing our pieces, I found myself torn. While I preferred my own work, I recognized that many would argue RhikGPT’s piece was superior. It was concise, funny, and packed with vivid imagery. However, I found it somewhat shallow, a collection of stylish lines rather than a deeply resonant narrative.

The Bigger Picture

This experiment led me to ponder a crucial question: Can ChatGPT truly do my job? Is it better at writing than I am? My conclusion is nuanced. While AI can produce impressive writing, the essence of what I do transcends mere words on a page. Writing is an embodiment of thought, a reflection of human experience, and attentive readers can discern the difference.

Final Thoughts

In the end, while my job may be at risk due to advancements in AI, writing itself is not just about fulfilling a role. It is an art form that requires emotional depth and personal connection. As AI continues to evolve, it will undoubtedly improve its