When My Creative Writing Professor Accused Me of Using A.I., What Happened Next Changed Everything
Ever sat down with your trusty notebook — you know, the one battered with stickers and bursting at the seams with scribbles — and wondered if your next scrappy little story would actually see the light of day? Yeah, me too. There’s something wildly thrilling (and nerve-wracking) about funneling your heart’s raw rhythm onto paper, then nervously sending it off to be dissected by someone who holds the power to either ignite your creative fire or leave you utterly heartbroken. But here’s a little kicker: what if that feedback, instead of crushing your spirit, becomes the very thing that challenges you to grow—not just as a writer, but as a person? If you’ve ever been caught in that maddening swirl of anticipation and despair during assessment season, this story’s for you. Dive into the rollercoaster of one writer’s journey through hope, criticism, and the bittersweet sting of artistic vulnerability.
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I was absolutely heartbroken
Every Wednesday, I’d come into class equipped with two things: a hardcover notebook and a sticker-clad laptop. I’ve always preferred to take notes on paper, so more often than not, the laptop would serve as little more than a metal placemat. Amidst the lessons and lectures, I’d write down anything and everything inspiring. Craft tips, creative prompts, and story starters galore.
When I’d get really excited, I’d begin setting the framework for a piece worthy of submission. Assessment season is a harrowing time for all students, but for me, it’s always come with an adrenaline shot of exhilaration. During assessment, my writing — my heart’s rhythm transcribed in words — is to be given love, attention, and a healthy helping of criticism. It is a time where I am to be challenged to find and mind my weak points. To grow as an artist, a collaborator, and as a human being.
Some notes can be taken with a grain of salt, this I know. Art is subjective, and every artist has their own personal preferences. There are some genres I simply can’t stand, and despite seeing their inherent value, nothing in me yearns to read them. It would be unfair to make me the sole source of criticism and creative direction for a piece in a genre I am biased against. I’m not equipped with enough passion, interest, and expertise to respond to it constructively.
Apologies, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself.
After a semester of lectures, discussions, and work within and without the classroom, my professor surprised us. Prior to official assessment, she offered to review our pieces-in-progress and provide one-on-one feedback. I felt aglow. In my trusty hardcover notebook, I’d begun a story I couldn’t wait to share with her. My laptop housed the world building, as I like having photo references when I’m dreaming up vast sci-fi or fantasy landscapes. However, the words, the characters, and the actual story had come alive on paper pages. I had to decipher my sleepy mid-morning cursive to transfer the short piece to Times New Roman 12.
I submitted my piece a few days before the deadline. My professor had informed us she’d be traveling, and as I like getting work done on planes, I figured I’d give…
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