AI Isn’t the Problem. Losing My Voice Is.

After last week, it would be very easy to assume that I’m anti-AI.

I’m not.

If anything, I’m going to benefit from it more than most people.

I want it everywhere.

I just don’t think we understand what we’re doing when we put it in places it’s nowhere near ready for.

And AAC is one of those places.

Most of the time, AI solves a speed problem.

And AAC isn’t just a speed problem.

I’m the first to say that I want faster communication.

But this is not how we accomplish that.

Not yet.

AAC isn’t always about getting words out faster.

It’s about having the autonomy to say whatever we want, however we want, whenever we want, to whoever we want.

And that’s not the same thing as speed.

And when you introduce something that can generate what to say for you, you’re not just speeding things up.

You’re changing who’s in control.

I’ve spent most of my life and career fighting exactly this problem.

In life. With communication. Everything.

And now the one place I was confident we’d conquered is going in a direction even I’m not ready for.

And that fucking terrifies me.

I think AI is fantastic. The gaps between me and the rest of society are going to shrink rapidly.

I can now write an essay in a couple of hours instead of days or weeks.

That massively expands what’s possible for me. Even this newsletter would have become a source of anxiety and stress just a few years ago.

I’ve got more than enough failed blogs and projects to prove that.

But now, three weeks in, I’m already ahead. I’ve got pieces scheduled, so I can take a week off to play in the State Titles without stressing myself out.

Before AI, I could have done that… if I worked all day, every day, for a month beforehand. And ignored my increasing need to rest (thanks, CP).

I know what it can do.

I’m just not sure it’s ready to be inside my voice yet.

And this is where it stops being theoretical.

Because I can already feel the shift happening.

The problem is that it won’t feel like a big shift when it happens.

It’s going to feel fucking fantastic.

It’ll feel like help.

You won’t notice it at first.

Hell, sometimes I can’t tell the difference myself.

And that’s the problem.

That shift won’t just sit in our work.

It’ll sit inside our voice.

It’s a very fine line between choosing our words and approving them.

It already is.

The moment you stop correcting it is the moment everything changes.

I’m already seeing that in my work.

I can get a lot generated with less than a sentence of context. And it almost sounds right.

If I didn’t know what I was doing, it’d be way too easy to accept the first thing it gave me.

If I didn’t already have a way of speaking — a way of wording things that’s recognisable — the temptation would be too strong.

To write half a thought and let it finish the rest.

Faster. Easier. Good enough.

But that’s just with AI on my computer.

Imagine if that were inside my communication device.

How would you know where I end and it begins?

Can you tell by reading this?

Probably not.

That’s because I’m constantly going back and forth with it.

I very rarely accept the first thing it gives me.

More often than not, I’ve already written the bones.

It’s just my editor. My thinking partner.

You think I have time to outline, write, edit, and properly promote everything?

Fuck no.

Especially not at the pace I need to keep up with right now.

And if that ability was sitting inside my vocal cords?

Mate…

I’d never have to write a full sentence again.

And that’s tempting as fuck.

And that’s the trade no one is really talking about.

Because if I’m not choosing the words, it’s not my voice.

And I’ve spent too long fighting for that to give it up now.