When I first began my journey as a journalist over a decade ago, the tools of the trade were gloriously analogue. Dictaphones, notebooks, and coffee-stained drafts were as much a part of the writing process as the words themselves. Fast-forward to 2025, and I’m no longer just writing. I’m co-existing with something far more advanced, something capable of stringing words into coherent, compelling narratives in a matter of seconds—artificial intelligence.

The question that has quietly haunted me lately is this: after 13 years of learning my craft, am I about to become redundant?

The Subtle Shift In The Creative Landscape

The integration of AI into creative industries has not been sudden. It crept in subtly, first offering grammar suggestions, then improving headlines, and eventually evolving into full-blown content creation engines. What once started as an enhancement tool is now being hailed by some as a potential replacement.

There’s a strange duality here. On one hand, AI tools have undeniably streamlined parts of my workflow. Transcriptions are faster. Editing is sharper. Idea generation is no longer confined to sleepless nights and overworked brain cells. On the other hand, the craft I spent years nurturing suddenly feels… replicable.

And that stings more than I care to admit.

Quantity Over Quality?

One of the more concerning developments is the sheer volume of AI-generated content flooding digital platforms. Articles that once took hours to research and compose can now be mass-produced in minutes. The speed is seductive—for both publishers and clients. It’s not uncommon to hear conversations in editorial meetings that start with, “Why don’t we just use ChatGPT for this?”

But here’s the rub: faster doesn’t always mean better.

There’s an intangible richness to human storytelling—a lived experience, a moment of vulnerability, a turn of phrase born from a place of emotion rather than algorithm. AI can mimic this, yes. But mimicry is not mastery. And readers, despite the race for faster content, still crave authenticity.

The Value Of A Human Voice

What I’ve come to realise is that writing was never just about putting words on a page. It’s about asking questions others are afraid to ask. It’s about sitting in silence until the right words reveal themselves. It’s about understanding nuance—not just of language, but of emotion, culture, and context.

I recently revisited one of my earlier pieces, “Navigating Work And Motherhood, And The Price Of Inclusivity In The Media Industry,” where I delved into the challenges of balancing a demanding freelance journalism career with the newfound responsibilities of motherhood. The article encapsulated the emotional and professional hurdles I faced, shedding light on the often-overlooked struggles of working mothers in the media landscape. Re-reading it reminded me of the resilience and adaptability that human experiences bring to storytelling—elements that AI, no matter how advanced, cannot genuinely replicate.

And that, I believe, is our edge.

Adapting Rather Than Resisting

If the last 13 years have taught me anything, it’s that evolution is inevitable. We’ve gone from print to digital, from long-form features to bite-sized reels. AI is simply the next wave. Fighting it might be futile, but learning to work alongside it—that’s where the opportunity lies.

Instead of fearing replacement, I’ve started asking how I can amplify my work using AI. Can it help me uncover new angles? Analyse reader trends more efficiently? Break through creative blocks when I feel stuck?

In embracing the tool rather than resisting it, I’ve found renewed purpose. The goal, after all, was never to compete with machines. It was to connect with people. That mission remains unchanged.

The Rebirth Of Intentional Storytelling

Interestingly, this AI revolution might just bring us back to basics. With the internet saturated with formulaic content, truly thoughtful writing is becoming rare—and therefore, more valuable.

Readers are starting to notice when something is ‘off’, when the prose feels soulless or recycled. And that’s where writers like us come in. We’re not just creating content; we’re curating meaning. The stories we tell, the empathy we bring, the cultural insight we embed—these cannot be auto-generated.

In many ways, this moment in time feels less like an ending and more like a recalibration. A gentle reminder that while technology evolves, the human heart remains the most powerful storyteller of all.

Final Thoughts: Still Worth Writing

So, am I going to be moot?

No. At least, not yet—and not if I keep evolving.

Being a writer today means wearing many hats: creator, strategist, sometimes even coder. But at its core, it’s still about making someone feel something through words. AI might be able to simulate that. But only humans can live it and write it from a place of truth.

Perhaps that’s the greatest reassurance of all. As long as there are stories that need heart, there will be writers who are needed to tell them. And I plan to keep telling mine.