I had lunch with a dear friend recently—a lovely person who discovered that writing is, in fact, a business. Yes, a business. Like selling hot dogs or running a laundromat, except with more existential dread and fewer health inspections. Over sandwiches, we discussed the latest in literary absurdity: AI-driven software that can crank out an entire book faster than you can say, “What the actual fuck?” Apparently (and I can’t confirm this, but it sounds stupid enough to be true), Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) now limits authors to uploading no more than three books a day. Three. A. Day. Because, you know, that’s a totally normal output for a human being and not at all a sign that Skynet is moonlighting as a romance novelist.

Let’s talk about writing a book the way most authors do—or at least the way we used to before AI started pooping out novels like a malfunctioning vending machine. Writing a book used to be a deeply personal, soul-crushing process that required creativity, discipline, and the kind of stubbornness usually reserved for toddlers refusing to eat broccoli. Here’s how it went down in the pre-AI era:

1. Generating Ideas

Back in the day, authors had to rely on their own brains to come up with ideas. No ChatGPT, no Bard, no “AI Muse 3000.” Just raw, unfiltered human creativity. Inspiration came from life experiences, dreams, or that one weird conversation you overheard at Starbucks where someone said, “I don’t care if it’s illegal, I’m marrying the ferret.” Writers carried notebooks everywhere, jotting down ideas like lunatics scribbling manifestos.

For example, when I wrote a book about sailing, I didn’t just Google “how to sail” and call it a day. No, I lived it. I chartered a sailboat, had the crew walk me through the process, and spent the day pretending I was Captain Jack Sparrow (minus the eyeliner and rum). That night, when I lay down in my hotel bed, the room was still swaying. That’s the kind of detail you can’t fake. That’s world-building, baby.

2. Outlining the Story

Once you had an idea, you had to outline it. This was where the real masochism began. You’d map out the plot, develop characters with backstories more complicated than your family drama, and, if you were writing sci-fi or fantasy, create entire worlds with their own rules, languages, and economies. It was like playing God, except no one worshipped you, and you didn’t get a day off.

Some writers “pantsed” their way through the story (a.k.a. winging it like a drunk pilot), while others meticulously planned every chapter. I personally use a beat sheet from Save the Cat, because apparently, I enjoy turning my creative process into a spreadsheet. Nothing says “art” like Excel.

3. Writing the First Draft

Ah, the first draft. The part where you sit down, stare at a blank page, and think, “Why the hell did I decide to do this?” Writing was slow, painful, and required the kind of discipline usually associated with monks or Navy SEALs. You’d aim for a specific word count each day, and if you hit it, you’d reward yourself with chocolate or alcohol—or both.

Writer’s block was a constant companion. Without AI to suggest ideas, you had to push through it on your own. Some people went for walks. Others screamed into the void. I personally found inspiration in coffee, wine, and the occasional existential crisis.

4. Revising and Editing

Once the first draft was done, the real torture began: revising. You’d read your manuscript over and over, catching typos, fixing plot holes, and wondering why your protagonist sounded like a cardboard cutout. Beta readers would give you feedback like, “I didn’t connect with the characters,” or “This part was boring,” and you’d resist the urge to reply, “Well, Karen, maybe you’re boring.”

If you could afford it, you’d hire a professional editor. If not, you’d edit it yourself, which was like performing surgery on your own child. Painful, messy, and guaranteed to leave scars.

5. Research

Research is the necessary evil of writing, especially for non-fiction or historically accurate fiction. It’s the part of the process where you willingly dive headfirst into a rabbit hole of facts, only to emerge hours later wondering why you now know the mating habits of 18th-century pigeons but still haven’t figured out what your protagonist’s name is. Research is both a blessing and a curse—it gives your work depth and believability, but it also makes you question your life choices when you’re Googling things like, “How long does it take for a body to decompose in a swamp?” and praying your internet provider isn’t judging you.

For example, if you’re writing sci-fi, you might find yourself studying quantum physics or emerging technologies, which sounds impressive until you realize you’re just trying to figure out how to explain time travel without sounding like a lunatic. Or, if you’re me, you might Google “how to sabotage an airplane” and then spend the next week convinced that the FBI is about to kick down your door. I mean, imagine it: covert agents taping over your outdoor cameras, RF jamming your phone so you can’t call for help, cutting the power to your house, shooting your dogs (RIP, Fido), and snipers perched in trees a mile away, just waiting for you to answer the door in your pajamas—or, let’s be honest, nude—so they can interrogate you about your questionable search history.

Wait. I never Googled that. Nope. Never happened. But damn, wouldn’t that make a killer chapter in a thriller? Picture it: the protagonist is a writer who accidentally stumbles onto some classified government conspiracy while researching their next book. Suddenly, their innocent Google searches turn into a one-way ticket to paranoia-ville, complete with black SUVs tailing them and mysterious men in suits showing up at their local coffee shop. Someone call Netflix—I think I just wrote their next hit series.

But seriously, research is the backbone of good writing. Whether you’re crafting a historical epic or a sci-fi adventure, you need to know your shit. As Patricia Leslie points out, research is essential for both fiction and non-fiction writers. It helps develop characters, make settings believable, and weave fact and fiction together so seamlessly that readers can’t tell where one ends and the other begins

For non-fiction, accuracy is king. For fiction, it’s more like a benevolent dictator—you can bend the rules a little, but you still need to know what you’re doing.

The trick is to use research as a tool, not a crutch. Sure, you could spend weeks poring over vintage newspapers or interviewing experts, but at some point, you have to stop researching and start writing. Otherwise, you’ll end up with a head full of useless trivia and no book to show for it. And let’s be honest, no one’s going to be impressed that you know the exact dimensions of a 16th-century guillotine unless you actually use that knowledge in your story.

So, to all the writers out there: research responsibly. And maybe clear your browser history every now and then, just in case. You never know when the FBI might decide to pay you a visit.

6. Finding a Publisher

Before self-publishing, authors had to grovel at the feet of literary agents and publishers. You’d write query letters, pitch your book, and wait months for a response, only to get a rejection that said, “Not for us, but good luck!” It was like online dating, except instead of ghosting you, they sent a polite “no.”

7. Marketing and Promotion

Even after all that, the work wasn’t done. Authors had to promote their books like used car salesmen. Book tours, media appearances, social media campaigns—you name it. You’d beg people to buy your book, and they’d say, “I’ll wait for the movie.” Thanks, Aunt Linda.

The AI Problem

Now, thanks to AI, anyone can “write” a book in minutes. But let’s be honest: these programs aren’t writing books; they’re shitting them out. And the result? A flood of mediocre, soulless content clogging up the literary world like a fatberg in a sewer.

I’m all for technology as a tool. Word, Grammarly, ProWritingAid—these are great. But AI-generated books? That’s where I draw the line. I’m pushing for legislation that requires AI-generated books to wear a big, ugly label that says, “This was written by a robot.” Readers deserve to know if the “author” of their favorite romance novel is a human or a glorified toaster.

Final Thoughts

Writing is a job. A hard, thankless, occasionally soul-sucking job. There are days when I stare at my manuscript and think, “Why am I doing this?” But then I remember: because I love it. Because it’s who I am. And because the world needs more books written by real people with real stories to tell.

My book, Stupid Shit, is coming soon. Subscribe today so you can grab a copy when it drops. Trust me, it’ll be worth it. Or don’t. I’m not your mom.

-Best