That Poignant Scene You Loved? Might’ve Had a Little Digital Help

You ever read something that hits so close it makes you stop and stare out the window for a minute? Like, the words just burrow in and don’t leave? Maybe you were curled up in a creaky old chair on your porch in Roanoke, maybe parked at a cafe in Charlottesville with your headphones in, blocking out the world. And somewhere along the way, the story got to you.

Now imagine someone tells you part of that book—maybe even the best part—was written by artificial intelligence.

Kind of weird, right? But it’s happening. All over Virginia.

Between the Mountains and the Bay, Writers Are Figuring Things Out

Let’s be honest—life’s a lot these days. Jobs, kids, bills, burnout, laundry that never quits. And for a whole lot of writers here in Virginia, the dream of finishing a book has always felt just barely out of reach.

That’s why more folks are turning to AI tools like Sudowrite and ChatGPT. Not to hand over the story, but to help hang onto it.

There’s a woman in Norfolk who writes historical fiction between nursing shifts. She uses AI to help structure scenes she doesn’t have time to rewrite ten times. A teacher in Blacksburg uses it to spark ideas when the lesson plans have drained every ounce of creativity. It’s not about taking shortcuts—it’s about staying in the game.

Of Course There’s Pushback—This Is Virginia After All

We’re proud of our words here. From the poetry of Edgar Allan Poe to the gritty novels written in dimly lit apartments in Arlington, writing means something.

So yeah, folks have feelings about AI in publishing. Some say it’s cheap. That it lacks soul. Others say, “If it helps me finish the book I’ve been carrying in my head for ten years, then why not?”

One writer in Richmond said it best: “It’s like asking for directions when you’re lost. You still do the driving. You just get where you’re going a little faster.”

It’s Not Perfect—But Sometimes It Nails It

Give AI a prompt like small-town romance with a twist of grief or family secrets buried in the Appalachian woods, and somehow, it starts to piece together something… hauntingly close. It’s not always polished. But sometimes? It’s exactly the push a writer needs to keep going.

I know a guy in Staunton who used AI to write the last chapter of a novel he’d abandoned years ago. When he read it back, he cried. Not because the words were perfect, but because they got him unstuck.

How Virginia Writers Are Actually Using AI

We’re not handing the reins over. We’re collaborating. Here’s what most folks are using AI for:

• Outlining complex plots when everything feels tangled
• Tightening up dialogue so it doesn’t sound flat
• Brainstorming conflict without scrapping whole scenes
• Rewriting messy first drafts after long days
• Prepping books for self-publishing with AI support

It’s not about laziness. It’s about longevity. About finishing what you started.

Voice, Ownership, and All the Questions We Don’t Have Answers To

There’s no clear line yet. Who owns what if a bot helped shape the story? What if it sounds a little too much like someone else’s work? How do we keep our voices—our Virginia voices—from getting lost in the machine?

We don’t have all the answers. But we’re asking the questions. And that matters.

The Heart of the Story Is Still Ours

Virginia’s built on stories. They live in the hills, the rivers, the quiet corners of historic towns. We whisper them in kitchens, sing them on porches, write them late at night when the house is finally quiet.

Maybe AI is part of that now. A strange, futuristic part. But as long as the people writing those stories still have their hands on the wheel—their roots deep in this place—the stories will still sound like us.

And if a tired parent in Richmond or a lonely poet in Lynchburg finds a way to keep writing, to get the words out of their head and onto a page? That’s not a threat to storytelling.

That’s a lifeline.