by Rina Brundu Eustace.

Professor Marsonet asked me to be more present on the site. He’s not entirely wrong; after all, this historic site bears my name. The problem, as always, is mainly about having the time to be here… which can’t be found.

In Italy—where censorship is wielded against individuals, where the system incarcerates the innocent, and where a profound democratic deficit arises from the absence of a genuinely free press—there is certainly no shortage of subjects demanding attention. The reality is that our site has addressed these matters extensively, even repetitively, throughout more than two decades of online presence. And not only that. We have already articulated everything that required articulation, and we were not mistaken when, many years ago, we forecast the current catastrophe.

Since these are fundamental societal problems characteristic of the Orwell 3.0 world we now inhabit, we will naturally revisit them. We will once more lend our voice to those attempting some type of resistance, particularly in the digital sphere. In truth, the sole aspect worth emphasizing immediately concerning these themes is how, especially in Italy and in recent years, digital journalism has qualitatively eclipsed the work of the so-called “legacy media”—that is, the journalism produced by those newspapers and publications that have, in various guises, dominated the landscape since William Randolph Hearst’s era, constructing a polished parallel reality and exerting substantial cultural influence over the overwhelming majority of the population, professionals included.

But these are now old stories. And this is not the subject I intended to examine in this article. Rather, today I found myself reflecting on how we of the Goldrake Generation have been extraordinarily fortunate. We have had the privilege of traversing a completely singular epoch in human history: we have witnessed the twilight of the old age, experienced the digital revolution, and today we also possess the opportunity to perceive how the world of tomorrow might take form—the world that will be governed by so-called Artificial Intelligence (AI). A gift, therefore. A gift granted neither to our predecessors nor to those who will follow.

The masses may not have even registered it, but AI already governs our daily existence, our professional lives, the sphere of entertainment, and beyond. Within approximately a decade, most old professions will be executed by AI, and allow me to state this: especially concerning certain sectors, this constitutes unequivocally good news. All those professions demanding immediate and readily accessible expertise, or those trades requiring exceptional precision, stand to benefit enormously from AI deployment. Consider, for instance, medicine and the far more accurate diagnoses that a physician “on steroids,” as AI might be characterized, would be capable of rendering, and how many lives it could preserve. Consider also the precision that a surgeon augmented by AI could attain. AI applications, however, are potentially limitless and concern virtually all professions, not to mention the public sector, where AI could finally help eradicate the bureaucratic quagmire while simultaneously ending the squandering of taxpayers’ resources within those very departments.

Paradoxically, the AI question becomes far more complex when it pertains to the realm of art, any form of art—from painting to writing, to any form of expression requiring genuine creative spirit. I have no doubt that the status quo will evolve, but at present there remains much to be accomplished. From this vantage point, distinctions must also be drawn. There is no question that in the future there will be artistic forms entirely orchestrated by AI. And in truth, certain demonstrations of this emerging reality can already be observed online, for example, in particular videos posted on YouTube, where we can admire striking futuristic creations. Conceived and imagined worlds that manifest themselves in truly extraordinary configurations. Naturally, even here the question persists: is it AI’s achievement, or is this outcome attained through the conceptual architecture devised and distilled in the human prompt that instructed AI to create? For the moment, I believe the distinction is still determined by human contribution, but there is no doubt that, in the near future, AI will be capable of producing authentic art in a wholly autonomous manner. In itself this is not necessarily detrimental because such creations will expand our own creative horizons.

The matter is different in the domain of writing. This occurs because writing represents a more circumscribed expression of our essence, our sensibility, and our mode of thinking; for this reason, AI’s intrusion might not be perceived as assistance, but as interference. Unlike other fields, indeed, here the value resides not solely in the final product, but in the creative process itself, which is profoundly human and personal. I, for instance, become thoroughly incensed at anyone who presumes to create in my stead. Moreover, AIs have not yet been developed that can rival my imagination. Our style is singular, in short, and merging it with that of an external collaborator is no simple matter; on the contrary, the “conflict” can result in squandering more time than anything else. Nevertheless, as with all things in life, one must not discard the baby with the bathwater.

Also by virtue of such considerations—and given that in recent decades I’ve written “Ten Rules for...” on virtually everything, from mystery stories to online journalism and every other topic conceivable within the known universe (moreover, having ventured into quantum physics and philosophy, I believe I’ve transcended the mere spacetime horizon)—I’ve decided to create a concise handbook applicable to the world of artificial intelligence and its intersection with professional writing. The objective is to provide practical guidelines that enable writers to harness AI’s potential without compromising their style, identity, and authorship.

So here are Ten Rules for Integrating ChatGPT and Other Chatbots into the World of Writing that can facilitate harmonious coexistence between humans and bots while safeguarding both our mental sanity and our creative flair.

1. You will have other computers besides the one connected to the Internet.

Having entered the world of AI for professional reasons, I understand well the dynamics—which are not particularly complex, incidentally—that enable these technologies. Generally, however, few people discuss so-called shadow-AI: namely, the fact that every time you connect to sites like ChatGPT and similar platforms, these programs metabolize your entire digital ecosystem, attempting to incorporate it into a single data stream. Theirs. Upon closer examination, this intrusion into our digital privacy began well before AI’s advent (ChatGPT, for instance, only launched in 2022); consequently, I imagine most of us have realized that the only way to manage our data with genuine protection of our private sphere involves using computers not connected to the Internet and storing information on external media. Easy enough. Common knowledge. This yields a fundamental consequence: all your projects—editorial, professional, or otherwise—must be externally safeguarded. And, ideally, externally created as well.

2. If you’re a poet, forget about AI!

Poetry is the only art form where achieving meaningful integration with artificial intelligence proves extremely difficult; not coincidentally, no truly valuable poem has ever been co-authored. It’s undeniable that in the future much “poetry” will be generated by poetic AI. However, poetry—our poetry—is born as a movement of the soul, of our soul. Precisely for this reason, it remains something profoundly private, intimate, irreducible to mere production. It should therefore be preserved as it is: in its fragility, in its truth, without forcing or mediation, allowing it the right to exist in whatever form it spontaneously assumes.

3. If you’re a journalist, it’s time to show some guts!

If twenty years ago the digital revolution dealt a substantial blow to journalism, AI is now delivering the coup de grâce. Consider, for example, a bare-bones, essential news item (exactly as a true news item should be): nowadays, you simply enter the key points into a targeted prompt and AI produces the article ready-made. Does this mean AI has killed journalism? No. Journalism—as I came to understand clearly after publishing an essay I dedicated to it nearly a decade ago—was killed by so-called journalists themselves. That said, even in the world of artificial and augmented reality, there would still be room for this profession. All one would need to be a good journalist is guts, but… as we well know, that’s the real sore point, so… ora pro eis.

4. Do you want to be a creative writer? Then make sure you actually are one.

For years I’ve cultivated an authentic disinterest, if not outright aversion, to writing stories, tales, or novellas: it’s not my métier, and I had the good fortune to realize this fairly early. However, many “writers” still love and practice this type of composition. In this regard, AI can offer substantial contributions, serving as an attentive, active, and constantly present editor. In my opinion, though, AI should never create the story or the plot itself—I would go so far as to say: in that case, the story would no longer be ours. And so, cui prodest? It follows that if a story were actually created by artificial intelligence, this should be openly declared somewhere. Intellectual honesty is, after all, the first and indispensable quality of a true writer.

5. Diary and autobiographical writing: remember that your memories are yours and yours alone.

This is an area where, without careful vigilance, artificial intelligence can only cause damage. To understand what I mean, try having AI modify an old photograph: it’s not uncommon for a completely new image to result, with the faces of the protagonists transformed beyond recognition. The same risk applies to your memories and your feelings. The advice, therefore, is to use AI only as an editor for this type of writing, but always with extreme attention to preserving the actual meaning within the final text.

6. Non-fiction and research: ask yourself what type of researcher you are.

Regarding non-fiction writing, integration with artificial intelligence can take different forms depending on the type of essay one wishes to produce and the investigation undertaken. In the case of purely technical-scientific non-fiction, AI can become the determining element of the writing itself. Consider, for example, the numerous discoveries being made across various fields thanks to artificial intelligence applications: in these cases, it’s the discovery itself that guides the text’s drafting—the content is a consequence of processes. The essayist’s role is often reduced to that of messenger, while the actual content is the fruit of the algorithm’s capacity. Here the integration with artificial intelligence is necessarily total. That said, I’ve also tested AI’s scientific acumen in terms of its capacity for out-of-the-box thinking—that is, to reason logically and thereby construct new scenarios, particularly regarding problems posed by new physics—and frankly, I was anything but impressed.

The case of field research, like the kind I personally pursue, is different: it remains the fruit of our capacity for understanding, analysis, and investigation. In this context, AI can be useful only as an editor, a support for clarity and form. Even in these cases, however, the material requires careful final re-editing, because the risk is that AI will substantially alter research results, modifying what is the fruit of our work and our reflection.

7. Publishing: finally some joy!

Publishing, and particularly small publishers, can derive genuine advantages from the judicious use of artificial intelligence, especially when optimizing financial resources dedicated to editing and translation. In both cases, however, completely replacing the work of human editors and translators is inadvisable: the results would risk being disappointing or even disastrous. Ipazia Books, for example, will soon begin employing such AI services substantially for translations, and this will be clearly indicated in the paratextual context. This represents an important step, as it will make previously published essays and research accessible in other languages. Nevertheless, human linguistic expertise remains fundamental: without it, automatic translation can seriously compromise the quality and integrity of the original content.

8. The work of editing and editors remains precious.

I have already emphasized that, although the primary contribution artificial intelligence can offer the world of writing concerns editing and translation services, entrusting these tasks entirely to AI is absolutely inadvisable. Editing means understanding a text’s style, perceiving its rhythm, and knowing how to convey it to readers in a clear, natural, and engaging way. In other words, it requires a soul—that same soul which, however sophisticated it may be, a machine does not possess (or does not yet fully possess). It follows that the editor’s work has not only survived the advent of AI but has acquired even greater value. Human care, sensitivity, and judgment remain irreplaceable, becoming more precious than ever.

9. Study languages: every language you know gives you a new soul.

The concepts outlined in point 8 regarding editing apply equally to translation. To this we must add a significant element: knowledge of a new language always constitutes added value, unique and difficult to quantify. Translation is not merely about transferring words from one language to another, but about understanding cultural, idiomatic, and stylistic nuances that profoundly enrich both text and communication. Possessing this skill opens professional and personal horizons that extend well beyond mere technical exercise, making the translator not only a linguistic intermediary but also an irreplaceable cultural bridge.

10. Beware of mental atrophy!

One undeniable advantage offered by artificial intelligence is the possibility of saving considerable time on tasks that previously required substantial effort. However, this very benefit carries a risk: the ease and speed with which such tasks are now performed can encourage a kind of “mental atrophy.” We should avoid this. Naturally, this is the perspective of someone who, like me, belongs to an older generation. Logic suggests that, in the future, the time saved through these tools will be devoted to more productive and stimulating activities; in this way, the mind will continue to receive increasingly complex stimulation, a necessary condition for remaining intellectually attuned to AI—to avoid, in short, becoming mere background bio-presences in a world animated by machines.

To recap: use AI as a tool. Proceed no differently than when we transitioned from handwriting to typewriting, or from such machines to computerized systems. Remember that the real risk you face with AI is becoming mentally lazy, intellectual couch potatoes incapable of creativity. For these reasons, it would be advisable to learn first how to write and edit, and only then to integrate AI, not vice versa. Even in this sense, we of the Goldrake Generation have certainly been fortunate. In fact, it is we who, through our online writing of the last twenty years, have enabled AI to exist. We are therefore the father and mother of AI; our children and grandchildren, by contrast, will be its native inhabitants.