Should AI Write your Content?

The other day, I stumbled on a GPT prompt so meticulously crafted it almost felt like software. It had neatly labeled sections and clear instructions. You drop it into ChatGPT or Claude or whatever else you like, and it asks for a topic. Feed it something — say, “B2B SaaS onboarding” — and within minutes, it spits out a 1000-word blog that actually reads like someone gave a damn.

Trim a few lines, tighten the flow, and you’ve got something publishable in half an hour. Which made me wonder: should this be the way?

You might argue, “But it doesn’t sound like me.” Fair. But it’s also easy to reverse-engineer your style into a reusable prompt. Give AI some samples of your writing, and it’ll mirror it — tone, rhythm, quirks and all. You could feed in the raw blog and get it back sounding like something you’d write on a good day.

Now you have content that reads like you. And if you’re a subject matter expert, you can churn out two decent blogs in an afternoon.

Compare that to traditional content workflows. I’ve worked with writers who spend days on a single post. And even then, you still have to go in and tune it before it’s ready. With a tool like this, you’ve reduced a multi-day effort to an hour. If you’re in marketing, where output is measured — that’s not just helpful, it’s gold. You hit your targets faster. Which is all anyone really wants.

But here’s the catch. What if there were no targets? No KPIs breathing down your neck. Just a vague directive to “make something great.” Would you still use the prompt? Or would you sit there, chasing the kind of writing people want to reread? The kind they send to friends with a “This is so true”?

That’s the real tension. Because what these tools offer is efficiency. But what we claim to value is craft.

The funny thing is, you can actually have both. You can give GPT a piece of writing you love — yours or someone else’s — and ask it to build a prompt in that style. So instead of spinning fluff, it’s generating content that feel like yours. And they’re good. Sometimes, great.

But how do we know? That’s the hard part. Maybe you could write something better. Maybe not. But the point is, you couldn’t do it in an hour. And if the version you got from the machine drives traffic, conversions, or compliments, what then? Hasn’t it done its job?

This reminds me of developers. Before GPTs, they lived on Stack Overflow. You’d hit a bug, Google it, and Frankenstein a solution from ten different threads. That was just how coding worked. You learned by doing, mostly after breaking something.

Now? You paste the error into ChatGPT and it tells you what to do. No digging. No tabs. Just output.

Some coding courses still warn beginners not to rely on AI. The logic is that if you don’t struggle through problems, you won’t learn how to solve them yourself. And maybe that’s true. But in the wild, I see developers using GPT constantly. Debugging. Refactoring. Even writing entire chunks of logic. And companies love it. Code ships faster.

So why should writing be different?

If GPT can help devs, designers, and PMs move faster, why not writers? What if that song you’ve been looping all month was ghostwritten by a model? Would it matter? Not really. If it hits, it hits.

Tech exists to extend us. Think of the early days of computing. People were afraid they’d lose their jobs to machines. And many did. But computers also created jobs we couldn’t have imagined. AI is the same. It’s a multiplier. The smart ones will use it.

This doesn’t mean you give up on writing. There are moments when an idea grabs you by the throat and demands to be written. You’re not optimizing for efficiency then. You’re thinking aloud. Writing isn’t a task anymore — it’s how you find the thought. No machine can take that from you.

But even there, AI can help with the cleanup. You do the sketching. It handles the scaffolding. The soul stays yours. You just get to skip the part where you wrestle with grammar or transitions.

Which means content marketers need to evolve. If the writing part is increasingly automated, the value moves upstream, to thinking. To deciding what to write, and why. And thinking, it turns out, is harder than writing. It always was. That’s why there’s so much copycat content.

The source of value is shifting. Not from who can write the most words, but from who can say something worth reading. Something that earns attention. And maybe that’s a good thing.

So if a blog helps someone, does it matter if a machine wrote it? Probably not. Its utility isn’t diminished by its origin. The only question is: do you want to spend three days making it, or one hour?

We don’t live in an ideal world. We live in a competitive one. A capitalistic one. Where leverage is everything. And in that world, the smart play is not to grind — it’s to compound. Use every tool you can. Because survival isn’t about purity. It’s about staying in the game.