AI Isn’t Cheating — But Shaming Writers Absolutely Is

Saying “AI isn’t real writing” is like saying an architect isn’t real because they didn’t build the house. Or a designer isn’t real because they didn’t sew every hem. Or a director isn’t real because they didn’t operate every camera. Or a songwriter isn’t real because they didn’t play every instrument.

Let me begin with something I’ve watched quietly for far too long.

There is a rising culture in the Australian writing community — a kind of gatekeeping dressed up as ‘integrity’. The moment someone detects that use of AI, the temperature in the room changes. Backs straighten. Mouths tighten. Someone mutters, “That’s AI,” in the same tone you might use to refuse plastic straws at a café. And then the whispering starts. The judgement. The little digs. The performative morality.

Sometimes it’s subtle. Sometimes it’s an outright statement like “Writers who use AI are cheating!” Regardless of how it is delivered, it’s destructive.

Because here’s the truth nobody wants to say out loud: Shaming writers for using tools that help them does more damage to creativity than AI ever will.

And it needs to stop. Not next year.

Now!

We Have Been Here Before — Every Generation Has a ‘Forbidden Shortcut’

Some of you are old enough to remember when typing instead of handwriting was considered lazy. Others remember when writing research on the internet was frowned upon. Ebooks were “not real books.” Audiobooks were “not real reading.” Self-publishing was “not real publishing.”

But every one of these tools is now normal. Every one of these tools helped someone who previously couldn’t participate.

Now the new bogeyman is AI but the reality is: AI is no different (if you use it properly). It’s simply the newest thing people don’t understand yet — so they fear it, and when people fear something, they often get loud, self-righteous, or unkind.

We must be better than that.

A Hard Truth: The Loudest Anti-AI Voices Are Just Protecting the Myth of What a ‘Real Writer’ Should Look Like

There, I said it.

If someone’s first response to AI is panic, hostility, or superiority, it usually has very little to do with ethics and everything to do with insecurity. They’re terrified that if someone with different skills can suddenly write with support, then their own identity as ‘the real writer’ is somehow threatened.

Let’s be honest: most people didn’t form their idea of a ‘real writer’ by meeting actual, living, breathing writers. They absorbed it from movies and media.

The tortured genius hunched over a typewriter at 3am.
The desk overflowing with crushed-up pages.
The dramatic montage of sleepless nights, cold coffee, and frantic scribbling.
The red pen slashing through drafts like a battle wound.
The overwhelmed author pacing the room, muttering lines to themselves.
The inevitable breakdown, followed by forced brilliance followed by that once in a lifetime offer made by a publisher that confirms you have ‘made it’.

Hollywood sold us the image that suffering equals legitimacy. And some writers — not all, but a very loud few — cling to that myth like it’s holy scripture. Because if writing suddenly becomes more accessible, less punishing, less gatekept… then the pedestal they’ve built their identity on starts to wobble.

So when they lash out at AI with panic or superiority, it’s rarely about ethics. It’s about protecting that old mythology that a ‘real writer’ must bleed for every sentence. The belief that struggle proves worth and ease somehow dilutes talent.

But writing was never meant to be an endurance sport. It was never meant to reward suffering over clarity. Nor was it meant to be a purity competition where only those who suffer the ‘correct way’ earn creative legitimacy.

Writing was always meant to be communication, expression, connection. Craft.

So when a writer uses fear or shame to keep others small — especially those using tools that lighten the load — what they are really saying is: “I feel threatened when writing becomes easier for you because my ego rests on the belief that hardship is the only real credential.”

That’s not literary integrity. That’s insecurity dressed up as moral superiority and if the industry is going to move forward, we must stop mistaking ego for ethics.

The Irony? AI Doesn’t Diminish Writing — Shame Does

I’ve watched writers — brilliant storytellers — shrink away from their own creativity because someone sneered at them for using an AI tool.

I’ve watched older writers apologise for not being “tech people” and dyslexic writers shrink when told, “Real writers don’t need AI.” I have met endless carers, parents, traumatised writers, disabled writers, and neurodivergent writers feel they must hide how they get their words onto the page.

Let me say this clearly: If your words are yours, your story is yours, and your decisions are yours — then the tool you used is nobody’s business.

The danger isn’t AI. The danger is the way some writers weaponise it to shame

Shame silences voices.
AI amplifies them.

And I know which one I will always choose.

A Story from Scribbly: Creativity Multiplied, Not Manufactured

Let me introduce you to how AI plays a role in the creative ecosystem known as Scribbly. Not as the foundation. Not as the voice. But as one tool among many that I use as the Founder and primary writer.

People often ask whether the Scribbly columnists — June, Theo, Jessi, Indigo, Grant, Nellie, Cal, Cam, Mika, Casey and Katy— are AI. They are not. They are creative narrative voices I designed deliberately, the same way an author designs characters to speak truths from different angles. These voices are documented, shaped, refined, and held steady inside our Scribbly style reference, which guides their consistency and purpose. They enable me to reach a variety of different writers from all walks of life.

So where does AI come into it? Not at the beginning. Not at the core. Not as the decision-maker. Rather, AI is the assistant, helping me switch between them without burning myself.

I remain the narrative architect.
I built the voices.
I built the themes.
I built the tone guidelines.
I built the emotional logic.

AI simply drafts, I decide. It suggests, I direct. It imitates patterns, I bring the heart.

This is a creative choice — not creative replacement.

And if someone claims using a tool makes me “less of a writer,” they can read the full draft history of every blog and see exactly who is steering this ship.

Let’s Talk About Authorship — The Real Kind

The question “Is it still my writing if AI helped?” is born from fear, not logic.

Here is the simple, grounded truth: If the story originates from your mind, your memories, your imagination, and your decisions — it is your work.

AI cannot invent your childhood. It cannot know your trauma or imagine your grandmother’s perfume. It cannot feel heartbreak or craft meaning. It cannot decide what the story means to you,it can only rearrange sentences.

You decide the soul.

And that is authorship.

To Those Who Spread Fear, Shame, or Superiority About AI — You’re Hurting the Wrong People

This is the reprimand I promised.

If you are loudly anti-AI, I ask you to consider who you are actually harming. Not tech companies. Not “cheaters.” Not lazy writers.

You are harming:

dyslexic writers who finally feel capable
neurodivergent writers who need structure
disabled writers who cannot type for long
older writers intimidated by tech
carers with limited time
trauma survivors who need support to express
new writers terrified of doing it “wrong”
brilliant storytellers who think in images, not grammar

You are not protecting writing. You are gatekeeping access.

And access should never be the enemy of creativity.

So What Do We Do From Here?

We evolve. We accept that writing tools change, but intention does not. We acknowledge that AI can assist without erasing human creativity.

We stop shaming writers for the paths they take to express themselves, pretending suffering equals skill, confusing struggle with authenticity and we start asking better questions:

Does this story help someone?
Does it move someone?
Does it matter?
Is it honest?
Is it mine?

Those are the questions that define a writer. Not whether they used a tool.

Creativity has always involved collaboration, tools, assistance, interpretation, and translation.

AI is not the enemy of writing. Shame is. Ego is. Exclusion is.

And if we want a writing community that thrives — especially here in Australia — we must choose creativity over fear, community over ego, and expression over purity tests.

Your voice is valid.
Your process is yours.
Your story deserves to exist.
And no self-appointed gatekeeper gets to decide otherwise.

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