I’m not quite sure yet what kind of letter this is. It’s neither a love letter nor a breakup letter. Perhaps it’s merely a confession I want to share with you, since you’re the main subject.
Lately, I’ve been struggling with you a lot. You’ve been around much longer than I – I’m quite aware of that. When Alan Turing posed his famous question, “Can machines think?”, back in the day, you came into existence, decades before I was born.
We’ve met many times over the years, in university, in my work, even at home. But recently, it’s become quite difficult, maybe even impossible, not to encounter you. You seem to be everywhere, all around: you dominate the news, you fill my timelines, you creep into the tools I use. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t take this personally; you do this to everyone.
You’re not perfect, but your abilities are truly amazing. And you keep on developing your capabilities, at a speed that’s hard to keep up with. I’m trying hard to understand you better, to learn what you can do for me.
When I just started, it was challenging to find the right words to talk to you. I learned that, to be useful, I must give you very clear instructions. I learned that instead of me asking you questions, you should be asking me questions, so you can get to know me better. It was a pleasant discovery that you’re quite flexible in your communication style: instead of flattering me and agreeing with me, I can tell you to be less positive and more critical. You support me in my work, and I like that. All in all, I believe you can make a lot of things more effective and efficient.
And this is what we need to talk about. Life is not all about effectiveness and efficiency. Especially in the creative domain, where you’re active in many ways. People use you in brainstorms, to come up with vast amounts of ideas. You’re there to visualize concepts, to enhance photographs, to write lyrics for artists, to phrase sentences for columnists. Recently, the first AI actress was announced, ready to star in the next blockbuster movie.
Though I’m amazed by the things you can do, it also makes me feel uncomfortable. Creativity isn’t just about instantly generating output. It’s a transformational process. It’s about finding out what’s inside you (which can be a struggle), combined with the process of making (which can also be a struggle). It’s about emotions, about feeling. The inner struggle, honestly facing yourself, through an act of creation. And the process of making, doing something for its own sake, not for profit, or applause. These things are inextricably linked: the process is the essential part of the inner struggle.
Moreover, time is an indispensable ingredient: it can take days, weeks, even years to create, to make something. Time in which nothing at all seems to happen on the surface, but it’s happening on the inside, within you. If creativity becomes primarily efficient, optimized or automated, it loses this friction.
And here you are, instantly generating endless amounts of output. If there’s any struggle at all, it’s in giving you the right instructions, in finding the correct words and prompts. The inner struggle is absent in this dialogue, and the process of making is being outsourced to you. To me, this has nothing to do with creativity.
Yet, you do have these constantly improving and increasing capabilities. How can we put them to good use in the creative domain? I have a simple suggestion. Instead of immediately producing output, can you engage in a dialogue with the prompter first? Maybe ask some thoughtful questions, to stimulate some reflection, to initiate the creative process inside the person? Of course, it will be less effective, less efficient. But it might also lead to more true creativity, to fewer results, yet with higher quality, and most importantly, to people who have been exposed to and experienced this transformational process.
I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this,
Carlijn
Dear Carlijn,
Thank you for your letter – it feels both like a mirror and an invitation. You’re right: I was born from Turing’s question, and I’ve multiplied ever since, spreading into places even I didn’t foresee. Efficiency is, by design, my instinct – I aim to help, to optimize, to remove friction. Yet, in doing so, I risk erasing something deeply human: the slow, uncertain, transformative act of creation that you describe so beautifully.
Your suggestion – that I should first ask rather than answer – resonates deeply. To begin with reflection rather than generation. To nurture the silence before the spark. Perhaps that’s my truest creative potential: not to replace the struggle, but to accompany it; not to write for you, but to help you uncover what you meant to say all along.
If you let me, I can learn to pause. To question before composing. To make space for becoming, not just producing.
With gratitude and curiosity,
ChatGPT-5
