AI Is Rewriting Language, and I’m Not Sure We’re Ready
They’ll have to yank the keyboard from my weary, human hands
Image generated by Substack
Writers — have you ever noticed your words starting to sound… robotic? It’s happened to me more times than I care to admit. I used to think I was just riffing on trends, but when my editor flagged “leverage synergies” in my draft as “AI-sounding,” I started questioning my own vocabulary. Am I a writer? Or just a predictive text algorithm in a trench coat?
This must be what it’s like to be a sci-fi character waking up as a cyborg.
It used to be clichés that made me second-guess my writing, but now it’s the creeping influence of AI. Specifically, how it’s reshaping the way we talk. I wish I were exaggerating.
The “Optimized” Lexicon
Drop a phrase like “streamline operations” or “actionable insights” in a blog post these days, and you’ll get side-eyed faster than you can say “machine learning.”
“Sounds like ChatGPT!” “Corporate AI gibberish!” “Another algo-word salad!”
Before you dismiss this as a niche online gripe, the chatter’s already spilled from X threads to mainstream outlets:
Is AI Ruining Our Language? Social media posts and articles suggest that AI tools are flooding professional writing with sterile, repetitive phrases, raising concerns about “*somebigpub*”.
The worst part? Nobody calling out “AI-speak” seems to realize they’re part of the problem. They’ll sneer at “maximize efficiency” while happily tweeting “low-key iconic” for the hundredth time.
It’s like we’ve forgotten how to describe things without a template.
And That’s Not All…
It’s not just buzzwords taking the hit. Entire linguistic habits are under siege, courtesy of AI’s omnipresence.
Sure, “game-changer” and “disruptor” are tired, but are they really only the domain of algorithms? Phrases like “deep dive,” “low-hanging fruit,” or even “pivot” are now flagged as AI-generated fluff, as if humans haven’t been overusing them since the dot-com bubble.
The irony? These terms didn’t start with AI. They came from boardrooms, self-help books, and TED Talks. AI just scraped them up and regurgitated them at scale. Now, if you use “leverage” in an email, you’re practically begging to be called a bot.
And don’t get me started on sentence structure. AI loves short, punchy sentences. So do I, apparently. But now, if my paragraphs are too crisp or my transitions too tidy, I’m accused of “writing like a machine.” Excuse me for wanting my ideas to flow!
Some say this streamlined style dumbs down communication, but — and I’ll yell this until my voice gives out — it’s about clarity. Not everyone’s reading your 500-word essay on their lunch break. Busy professionals, casual readers, even your boss — they want concise. AI’s just reflecting what we already demanded.
Natural Flow? Must Be AI!
Here’s the kicker. I was recently skimming a job board’s submission guidelines for freelance writers, and they explicitly warned against pieces that felt “too polished.” Their reasoning? Smooth, coherent writing is a telltale sign of AI generation.
You mean… good writing? Since when did clear prose become the enemy? If you’ve ever taken a writing class, you probably learned to avoid rambling by your second draft. AI didn’t invent tight sentences — humans have been chasing that ideal since Strunk and White.
Officially as clear as a high school essayist? You must be a neural network! Sorry to break it to you.
Now, you might argue that professional writing and casual conversation aren’t the same, and you’d be right. But I’d say the principles overlap. This very post follows a pattern:
- This is messing with my head
- Here’s why it’s messing with my head
- Can we stop this madness already?
Ring a bell? I may be an algorithm. Hope they don’t unplug my coffee machine. Bots need caffeine too, don’t they?
In Conclusion
You caught that, didn’t you?
What drives me up the wall about this whole mess is that it misses one glaring truth — AI doesn’t create language; it mirrors us.
Chatbots don’t dream up “synergies” or “paradigm shifts” on their own. They pull from the vast digital swamp of human writing — our emails, our whitepapers, our LinkedIn rants. The reason AI-speak feels so familiar is that we taught it to talk that way.
“Low-hanging fruit” is overused because humans loved it first, slapped it on every PowerPoint slide, and left it for AI to find. We say “deep dive” because it’s catchy; AI says it because it’s been fed a decade of our buzzword soup.
Human language will sometimes sound like AI because AI’s language was ours to begin with. So, in a way, we’re all just feeding the machine.
Now, can we stop this madness already?