Artificial Intelligence Wrote This

We're Losing the Gap Between What We Know to be Artificial Intelligence and What We Know is Created by Us

So, I’m sure we’re all sick about hearing how AI is going to take over writing. That it’s going to destroy the careers and enjoyment first of nonfiction writers and then (and possibly already) what us fiction writers do.

So, here it is. The prompt I gave Copilot, MS Word’s AI feature that can “draft content, adjust formatting, and summarize information” was “Write a blog post that talks about meaning in fiction.” Everything in quotes below is what Word kicked out. Microsoft’s Artificial intelligence wrote this:

“Unraveling the Mystery: Meaning in Fiction (Or, Why That Talking Cat Is Probably Existential)

How Novels Play Hide-and-Seek With Our Souls

If fiction were a sweater, meaning would be the elusive strand of yarn that keeps poking out—tempting you to tug, promising to unravel the entire thing and reveal what’s really going on beneath the surface. Of course, as any seasoned reader knows, tugging too hard usually just lands you with a handful of stray fibers and a suddenly chilly torso. But we persist, asking: What does it all mean? Why do some stories haunt us, and others slip from memory like last week’s grocery list?

Let’s take a witty walk through the elusive gardens of meaning in fiction, where every metaphor is a hedge maze and every plot twist is an unexpected fountain. If you’ve ever pondered the existential significance of a talking cat, wondered what Gatsby was really reaching for, or simply asked yourself, “Is that dystopian society a metaphor for my inbox?”—this post is for you.

The Age-Old Question: What’s It All About?

Humans have been telling stories since we first discovered that words are more fun than grunts. From cave paintings to TikTok sagas, we crave narrative. But somewhere along the evolutionary trail, we started looking for meaning—not just entertainment. We wanted our stories to mean something.

Ask a handful of readers what a story “means,” and you’ll get a chorus worthy of a philosophical musical. “It’s a critique of consumerism!” “It’s about the beauty of friendship!” “Frankly, it’s just a tale about a guy who really loves his boat.” Meaning, it turns out, is slippery. It shape-shifts depending on who’s reading and what they had for breakfast.

Authorial Intent vs. Reader Interpretation: The Eternal Cage Match

If Oscar Wilde could hear modern debates about authorial intent, he’d probably pen another play called The Importance of Being Misunderstood. Literary history is littered with writers who insist “This is what my book means!”—only to have generations of readers say, “That’s nice, but I think it’s about the futility of matching socks.”

Take J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter, for instance. Is it a classic battle between good and evil, or a nuanced metaphor for adolescence, trauma, and the perils of magical bureaucracy? Did Tolkien set out to craft a grand allegory for World War II, or just really like trees and rings? Does it matter? Once a book is out in the wild, meaning becomes a two-way street, sometimes with faulty GPS.

The Wily Weapons of Fiction: Symbols, Motifs, and Other Mischief

Why do authors love symbols? Because they’re sneaky. A green light isn’t just a lamp—it’s longing, hope, and probably a reminder to check your car’s dashboard. A whale is never just a whale; it’s obsession, nature, and your unresolved issues from high school. The red room in Jane Eyre isn’t just a room; it’s emotional trauma, repressed fury, and possibly a critique of Victorian wallpaper.

Symbols invite us to play detective. Sometimes we’re Sherlock Holmes, connecting every clue; other times, we’re Watson, clutching the magnifying glass and hoping for inspiration. The beauty (and frustration) of fiction is that meaning lives in these shadows, waiting for us to step forward and say, “Aha! It all makes sense!”—only for the next reader to say, “Wait, what?”

Artificial Intelligence, Including MS Word's Copilot, are Taking Over How We See, Produce, and Understand The Words We Read in Marketing Copy, Articles, and Fiction and Nonfiction Works

Is Meaning Necessary?

Let’s be honest: not every story is a philosophical treatise. Sometimes a dragon is just a dragon. Sometimes the hero learns nothing. Sometimes the meaning is as deep as a paper plate, and that’s okay.

But even in the silliest tales, we find ourselves searching for resonance. Why? Because stories are mirrors, funhouse or otherwise. Even the most superficial narrative reflects something about us—our desires, our fears, our hope that someone will invent flying bicycles before rush hour.

Fiction offers the comforting illusion that life has structure, that themes can be traced, that endings are possible. In reality, things are messier, but when we read, we get to play at tidying up the chaos—at least for a few chapters.

Fiction As Meaning-Maker: Why We’re All Interpreters Now

Every time we pick up a novel, we bring our own baggage: childhood memories, political opinions, questionable playlists. We see what we’re primed to see. The protagonist’s journey is our own; the villain is the neighbor with the suspiciously loud lawnmower. Meaning, therefore, is not just in the text—it’s in the reader.

This is why book clubs exist: to argue over what the ending “really” means and eat brownies. It’s why English teachers have jobs, and why internet forums can spend months debating the true nature of the ending of Inception or whether the wardrobe in Narnia is secretly a portal to Ikea.

Every time we pick up a novel, we bring our own baggage: childhood memories, political opinions . . . [m]eaning, therefore, is not just in the text—it’s in the reader

The Grand Tradition of Overthinking

Some say we read too much into fiction. Maybe so. But where’s the fun in reading Moby-Dick if you can’t ask whether the whale represents capitalism, fate, or your aunt’s stubborn refusal to admit she’s lost?

Overthinking is our gift to literature—a way of reaffirming that stories aren’t just words on a page. They’re invitations to ponder, to dream, to make connections that might seem wild but feel true. If you’ve ever written a college essay about the symbolism of light in Heart of Darkness, congratulations: you’re part of a noble lineage.

Meaning in the Age of Memes

In our digital era, fiction is everywhere—and so are interpretations. A single sentence can become a meme, a theme can spark a TikTok trend, a character’s bad haircut can inspire a thousand think pieces. Meaning, in the age of the internet, is communal, remixable, and occasionally baffling.

But this is fiction’s greatest strength: its ability to adapt, to morph, to mean different things to different people at different times. Today’s dystopian novel might be tomorrow’s blueprint for interior design. Tomorrow’s vampire romance could be the next treatise on fiscal responsibility.

Conclusion: The Meaning Is You

So, what’s the meaning in fiction? It’s everything, and nothing, and whatever you discover when you peek beneath the surface. Sometimes it’s intentional, sometimes accidental, sometimes both. It’s the author’s secret, the reader’s treasure hunt, and the critic’s raison d’être.

The next time someone asks, “But what does it mean?” feel free to respond with a knowing wink and say, “Mostly that talking cats are existential.” Because in the world of fiction, meaning is never just one thing—and that’s the best plot twist of all.”

*END OF AI.

No, Copilot’s post isn’t the best blog post out there. But it’s also not the worst blog post, and yes, it bothers me. It bothers me because there’s not a damn thing any of us can do about it—it’s learning and it’s getting better every second of every minute of every hour of . . . you get the point. It’s interesting (advances in certain areas do provide benefit to us and I won’t pretend they don’t) because most of the time I don’t think we (and I mean most of us) even notice how it’s affecting us. But it is. It is.

The Lines are Blurring Between What's Real and What isn't, And People are Capitalizing on it

I read an article today, which I’m sure popped up on my feed because of my interest and search history. The article was about a guy who “published” something like 1,700 short “books,” and made millions of dollars doing so within a year or so. In the article, the guy lists out how he creates the books using AI, how he ensures the book covers are appealing to consumers/buyers/readers, and how he edits the books, because, obviously, the quality isn’t yet there, and he wants to make sure he’s providing “value.” It’s easy to write him off as a writer. It’s not so easy to write him off as a businessperson.

No, Copilot’s post isn’t the best blog post out there. But it’s also not the worst blog post, and yes, it bothers me. It bothers me because there’s not a damn thing any of us can do about it

I was in business for years, working in digital marketing and advertising, and so I understand his point of view and the technology behind it. I would never use AI for profit, though I do feel a little guilty having “written” the majority of this post using AI. Yes, I did it to see how AI on MS Word has improved since I first tried it out a couple years ago. This year (2025), Microsoft made further improvements, including Voice (you can execute voice commands, practice different languages and more) and Think Deeper (a conversation mode in Copilot that can provide more detailed, thoughtful responses,” as well as Copilot Search in Bing (which allows Copilot to access web search results, summarize information, and engage in a conversation based on search results). There’s also a native Copilot app for macOS. And next year, there’ll be more advances in the technology, not just on Word but everywhere you type something (or even speak something!) into a device, whether it’s a laptop, an iPad, a mobile phone, or even your refrigerator. Now, extract meaning out of the information I’ve just laid out. I dare you. And don’t include cats. Please.

The Author at Rest

Cully Perlman is an author, blogger, and editor. He hates what AI is doing to literature, but he also knows that the ship’s sailed in terms of how people are going to use it to the detriment of many of the things we love and work hard to produce. He can be reached at Cully@novelmasterclass.com