Is AI Just the Modern Way to Write?

Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash

by R.K. West

According to a recent Yahoo article a majority of books in Amazon's "Success" self-help genre contain AI writing. AI books are common in other genres, too. Authors are concerned about the flood of AI-generated books that detract from the ability of real writers to sell their books.

It may be that prolific readers of genre fiction can't tell that they are reading bot-produced books, or that they don't care. Amazon permits "authors" to upload as many as three books per day, a limit that is supposedly aimed at cutting down the number of low-quality AI (and low-quality human-produced) books flooding the market.

YouTube has hundreds of videos explaining how to detect AI writing, and hundreds explaining how to make a fortune as an AI "author".

Most legitimate publishers do not want to handle AI-generated works, and have added AI-detection to the list of skills editors need. There are many automated AI detectors (which probably use AI), but they are not as reliable as we might hope. People who have studied the writing "style" of bots like ChatGPT point to certain characteristics as indicative of AI-generated texts.

Excessive use of the "em-dash". The em-dash is a punctuation mark, a long dash usually produced by typing two hyphens. it is often used much like a semicolon or parentheses, or in place of commas, to set off a clause that contains additional or explanatory material. Typically, there will be a space both before and after the dash.

John was worried about his shoes -- they often slipped off his feet while he walked -- so he secured them with duct tape.

Apparently, ChatGPT uses em-dashes to excess, and does not put spaces around them.

The words excited him--he was easily excited by words--and he began to hum. His wife--always attuned to his vocalizations--told him to calm down.

Do writers have to stop using dashes? No. If dashes are a natural part of the writer's style, they can stay, but it's best (even in a world without AI) to avoid going overboard with them.

Overuse of certain words. It seems that some "buzzwords" will surge in popularity with bots and begin appearing in texts more frequently than usual. Some of these words found in recent studies are delve, empower, elevate, and grounded. There are lists available that identify suspect words. Does this mean writers must stop using these words? No, we should feel free to use any appropriate word at any time. Even so, it is probably wise to be aware of these words and avoid over-using them.

Clichés. This should come as no suprise. Since AI is trained on existing work, it will inevitably absorb cliché phrases. If someone is "inexorably drawn into a web of deceit" and finds herself "shouting into the void," it could be AI, or it could just be an unimaginative human writer.

Formulaic structures. AI systems like to follow patterns. They will repeatedly show contrast by saying, "It isn't just X. It's also Y." or "Not A. Not B. Just C." Apparently, they also like the "rule of three," whereby lists must always contain three elements. This is unfortunate, because to many human writers, a list of three just "sounds" better than two or four.

Dishonesty. Bots have been caught writing about newsworthy events that never actually happened. They have cited fake sources, including imaginary studies and articles or books that don't exist. They have used incorrectly attributed quotations and have referred to writers and experts who do not exist, or whose expertise is in a different field. They use made-up statistics without attribution.

Studies show that 87% of novels on the New York Times best-seller list are 100% AI-written. As microbiologist Joan Didion once said, "I have seen the future of literature, and it is bot."

Sadly, humans sometimes do these things, too.

Bad Writing. AI writing frequently just seems "bad," however one might define that. It is often unimaginative, lacking rhythm, dependent on exaggeration and cliches, and repetetive. There may be nonsense sentences, full of words, apparently grammatically correct, but devoid of meaningful information. Of course, bad writing is often produced by humans, whose creativity makes it possible to exceed AI in unreadability.

Even without referring to a checklist, experienced readers can identify AI writing with a high degree of certainty.

It is hard to imagine that anyone using AI to generate texts could call themselves an "author" without a twinge of guilt. Do the purveyors of these word collections (based on plagiarism) actually feel creative? Is it possible to take pride in having accomplished nothing beyond distributing mediocre word slop?

Aside from poor quality, there are many practical reasons to not use AI, especially for those who hope to have a professional writing career.

 

Where is my story?!

Dear authors, If your story was scheduled for a particular day, there is an excellent chance that it actually will be published that day.

Stories appear, one by one, between 10:00am and 11:00am (Pacific time) every Wednesday. The story at the "top" of the page is the one most recently posted. To see earlier stories, scroll through the page.

If you can't find your story, please try scrolling again. Make sure you have gone all the way to the bottom of the page. Sometimes we have more than a pageful of stories, so you may need to click on "Older Posts" (bottom right). If you still can't see your story, you might want to try using the "search" box (on the right-hand side of the page) to look for the title or your name. Check the time. If you are in any time zone other than ours, you may be too early. Check the time in Seattle.

Please don't panic. Don't assume we cancelled or forgot your story. So far, we have never missed publishing a story as scheduled. Of course, glitches and mistakes can happen. If we have erred, we will do our best to correct the problem.

Also, please be aware that we have an account at BlueSky. We post links to all stories there, trickled out gradually from Wednesday through Saturday.

 

The Unseen Echo: How Micro-Moments Shape Our Grand Narratives

essay
by Israel Temmie

The alarm clock shrilled, a tinny, insistent sound that shattered the predawn quiet. Most would swat it into submission, but for Sarah, it was different. That familiar buzz wasn't just a nuisance; it was the echo of a forgotten promise, a tiny tremor that would ultimately reshape her meticulously planned life. This is the essence of the micro-moment: a seemingly insignificant fraction of time, an unnoticed detail, a fleeting thought, that holds the unseen power to ripple outwards and redefine our grand narratives.

In a world saturated with information, where sprawling epics dominate, it's easy to overlook brevity's profound influence. Yet, history, art, and even our personal lives are replete with instances where a mere flicker of an event, a pithy remark, or a singular image, proved to be the catalyst for monumental change. "Sudden Flash," a publication dedicated to the potent art of short-form storytelling, champions the drabble and the dribble, the flash fiction and the concise non-fiction, not as mere exercises in brevity, but as powerful vehicles for profound human experience.

Consider the classic example of a single, unexpected kindness. A hurried commuter drops their wallet, and a stranger, without hesitation, stoops to pick it up, hands it back with a small smile, and continues on their way. For the recipient, a minor inconvenience averted. But for the giver, perhaps it was the first selfless act in months, a tiny crack in a wall of cynicism. Or for an observer, the spark of an idea, a reminder of humanity's grace. This micro-moment, almost imperceptible in a city morning, holds within it the seed of connection, empathy, or even a nascent shift in perspective. It's the unseen echo that reverberates long after the action is over.

The Art of Compression: More Than Just Word Count

The beauty of micro-moments in literature lies in their ability to imply vastness without explicit detail. A perfectly crafted piece of flash fiction doesn’t tell you everything; it shows you just enough to ignite your imagination, allowing your mind to fill in the expansive gaps. It's an economy of language that doesn't sacrifice depth, but rather achieves depth through precision. This isn't about shortening a longer story; it's about identifying the absolute core, the critical hinge point, and then amplifying its resonance.

Think of a photograph. It captures a single instant, freezing time. Yet, a truly impactful photograph tells a story that stretches far beyond the frame. Microfiction operates similarly. A drabble about a forgotten teacup on a windowsill might, to the perceptive reader, evoke an entire life of routine, solitude, loss, or quiet contentment. The reader becomes an active participant, piecing together the larger narrative from the fragments provided.

This art of compression extends beyond fiction. In nonfiction, a brief anecdote or a pointed observation can crystallize a complex idea with far greater impact than pages of exposition. A single line from a pivotal speech, a brief diary entry, or a short, defiant letter can become condensed narratives, echoing the hopes, fears, and struggles of an entire era. Their brevity makes them memorable, quotable, and ultimately, more powerful. They become the "sudden flashes" that illuminate much larger historical currents.

Finding the Echo in the Everyday

So, how do we, as writers and as individuals, learn to recognize and harness the power of these micro-moments? It begins with heightened observation and a willingness to question the obvious. The mundane is often fertile ground for the profound. Look for the anomalies: a perfectly manicured garden with a single wilting rose. Listen to the silences: the pause before an answer, the held breath. Embrace the sensory: a specific scent triggering memories. Identify the tipping points: the exact moment everything shifted, a whispered word or a sudden realization.

The discipline of crafting micro-moments sharpens a writer's skills, forcing ruthless editing, mastering subtext, and understanding implication. These are skills that transfer to any form of writing. For readers, "Sudden Flash" offers unique value: a testament that profundity isn't measured in pages, but in impact. Each Wednesday, they release echoes, carefully curated moments designed to resonate and inspire. They are a reminder that the loudest truths are often whispered, the brightest flashes appear in the dark, and the most enduring stories begin with an unseen echo.

━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
Israel Kolawole, writing as Temmie, is a travel and nature writer dedicated to illuminating the world’s lesser-known destinations and the splendour of the natural environment. Blending adventure with environmental insight, exploring the intersections of attention, time, and meaning. Find more of his work at mymainportfolio.carrd.co.

 

Is your tense consistent?

Using a consistent verb tense in your writing is important, because it establishes when the story takes place and how the events relate to each other.

Nevertheless, it is not necessarily true that you can't - or shouldn't - use more than one tense in the same sentence. For example:

I hand the detective a photograph of the man who went missing last year.

The action (handing the photograph) takes place in the present, but it makes reference to something in the past (when the man went missing). The reader is unlikely to be confused by this; in fact, this avoids confusion by clarifying the sequence of events from past to present.

On the other hand:

Nancy perches on a bar stool and orders a margarita. When the drink arrives, she sips it cautiously while the bartender watches. "I'm leaving my husband," she said.

This is confusing. Here is Nancy enjoying a drink in the present, and suddenly we hear about something she said in the past. Did she talk about leaving her husband before or after coming to the bar? Who did she speak to?

Automated grammar checkers do not always find errors like this. A good way to detect confusing content in your writing is to read it aloud or have a critical friend read it aloud to you.

 

Past or Present?

Dear authors,

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, decide whether your story is past tense or present tense, and stick to it.

Is it ever correct to switch between past and present? Sure, if your story is in present tense but includes flashbacks or memories of a previous time, the flashbacks will be in the past tense. Less common, but possible: Your story is in the past tense but includes a flash forward to the present day.

Here's an article on choosing tense from The Write Practice.

Here's another article on tense consistency from Grammarly.

Here's a video from PBS.

 

We Love You, And...

Dear Authors,

Please remember to read and understand our submission guidelines.

While it is always a pleasure and an honor to receive new stories in our email, we are saddened when a really nice piece of writing is just not right for us.

Remember, we are looking for very short flash fiction and "micro" fiction, 600 words and under. You are destined for disappointment if you send a longer story, a novelette or a collection of sonnets.

You can use Duotrope to find publishers suited to your work.

As always, we wish you the best of luck with your writing.

 

Our Name is "Sudden Flash"

For the record, we are Sudden Flash.

There is some confusion because of the "your" prefixed to our email address and URL. The reason is simple: suddenflash was already taken as a Google account name. We added "your" because that seemed friendlier than appending some random numbers.

That's it.

 

Aarggh!

by Wynter Stone

I used to be annoyed by editors whose submission guidelines included long lists of stern warnings.

After being an editor for only a few months, I now empathize with them.

First, too many authors fail to read and comprehend the submission guidelines. As a writer, I sometimes feel frustrated because it seems that every publication has a different set of basic requirements. Even so, most are not particularly difficult. They are generally designed to make things a little easier for the editors, who are likely overwhelmed by the flood of submissions that arrive every day. They just want every piece to be in a predictable and manageable format, one that will help simplify the process of getting an item published.

Next, it seems that many authors just submit the first draft of whatever they happened to write that morning. No matter how talented you are -- even if you are Margaret Atwood or Stephen King -- first drafts are rarely finished works. Editing and rewriting are nearly always necessary. Some writers don't even bother to proofread their work for spelling, punctuation, and grammar. If you don't care about your story, why should I? Yes, I know how hard it can be to proof one's own work. The brain tends to see what we meant to write rather than what we actually wrote. One simple rule that really helps, both for proofreading and for the overall quality of a story, is to read it aloud. Better yet, get someone else to read it to you.

Some other common problems: changing a character's name halfway through the story; too many different characters crowded into a very short piece; flipping between past and present tense; confusing dialog that does not make clear who is speaking to whom; stories that stop suddenly without an ending; author bio is longer than the story.

Having said all that, I want to tell you that I am always grateful for all the authors, whether well-established or just starting out, who send us their work. We receive a lot of really good material, and we are proud of the stories and essays we publish every week. Any gripes we have are balanced by our appreciation for what these writers have accomplished.

━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
Wynter Stone is a co-editor of Sudden Flash.

 

Flash Challenges

In the past, we've written about "Gimmicks" among publishers of flash fiction. These are special challenges to the author, such as writing a story with a specific word count, or embedding certain words in the story.

We have put together another list of sites that use restrictions and requirements to bring challenge and discipline to the craft of microprose.

Gooseberry Pie publishes pieces of exactly six sentences and no more than 400 words.

Five Minutes explores five minutes of a life in one hundred words

The Last Line is the companion to The First Line. There, all stories start with the same sentence. Here, they all end the same. Story length is 300-5000 words.

100 Word Story publishes stories of exactly 100 words.

A Story in 100 Words - guess what?

Flash Flood accepts submissions (up to 300 words) one week per year and then publishes a flood of stories on National Flash Fiction Day in June.

50 Word Stories are really short, but sometimes that's all it takes.

Backwards Trajectory publishes poetry and prose, up to 200 words.

Blink-Ink has been publishing stories of approximately 50 words since 2009.

Aster Lit publishes stories from writers aged 13-25. They publish prose up to 3,000 words.

Bloom publishes pieces of no more than 2,500 words by authors age 40 and older.

Persimmon Tree includes prose pieces under 3,500 words, and "short takes" of 250-500 words, all written by women over sixty.

Centaur publishes a small number of stories, up to 400 words, in quarterly issues.

The Citron Review publishes short prose, up to 1000 words, and micros, up to 100 words.

Paranoid Tree publishes pieces up to 400 words, online and on paper.

Prime Number Magazine has a monthly contest for 53-word stories.

Your Ad-Free Experience

Following the recent incident that caused subscribers to see unfortunate ads (not chosen by us), we "upgraded" to a "premium plan" with follow.it, to spare our subscribers from being spammed.

Now, more than ever, we hope flash fiction fans will take advantage of the opportunity to support is by making a small voluntary donation through Ko-Fi. Thanks!

 

Flash Gimmicks

"You Gotta Get a Gimmick" is a song from the 1959 musical comedy Gypsy. In the song three experienced burlesque performers explain to a newcomer that, in order to be successful, it's important to have a "gimmick," some special attention-getting device that stands out from what everyone else is doing.

I think of that song sometimes when I'm exploring the venues for flash fiction. Many of them have very specific requirements for the pieces they publish, rules that might be seen as "gimmicks," that present writers with special challenges.

Often the challenge is one of length: a precise word count, or a number of sentences.

For example, Six Sentences asks for pieces of exactly six sentences. Since 2006, the editor has posted these pieces with varying frequency, sometimes daily, sometimes several per day, sometimes less than daily. There are writers who manage to tell surprisingly complex stories, while others offer terse comments. Overall, these are great examples of what can be done by applying a little imagination to sentence structure and punctuation.

Paragraph Planet publishes a 75-word paragraph every day. This has been going on since 2008.

Complete Sentence publishes single-sentence prose. There is no minimum or maximum length, but it seems as though most of the authors are trying to set a record. There are some very entertaining pieces here, and it wouldn't be much of a surprise to find that someone has managed to compose an entire single-sentence novel.

The First Line publishes stories between 300 and 5,000 words, but length is not the focus. Every story starts with the same first line, chosen by the editors months in advance. While this might sound repetitive, every writer takes that first line in a completely different direction.

Another publication with prescribed content is 3Elements. The editors provide three "elements" - words or short phrases - that must be included in every short (under 3500 words) prose piece.

101 Words began in 2005, posting flash stories of exactly 101 words. They publish seven stories per week.

The Dribble Drabble Review publishes "dribbles" (50 words) and "drabbles" (100 words). Once again, it is fascinating to see the creativity of writers who are able to convey entire plots and memorable characters within those limits.

Any publication featuring flash prose and poetry will have a word limit, since it is brevity that defines the flash genre. There is no universal agreement on how long or short a piece must be to be considered flash. Some say it can be up to 5000 words, but most go lower. A maximum of 1000-1500 words seems typical. Oddly, some require a minimum, often as high as 500 words. Most flash publications do not impose strict limits. The "gimmick" publishers challenge their authors to apply extra discipline to the craft.