What Does Human Writing Look Like in the Age of AI?

Here’s how my “human touch” shines in my writing, lessons from Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott.

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Remember the last time a book felt like it sat down beside you and spoke to you directly?

I do. It was last year, on a random Thursday afternoon, and I was sobbing my eyes out, holding Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird like it was a lifeline. It wasn't even a sad book, not really. But there was something so raw, so startlingly human about her words that it cracked something inside me wide open, went in, and poked my heart with a sharp stick.

Some writing teaches you. Some writing touches you. And some — the rarest kind — manages to do both.

Bird by Bird was like that. And it’s something that I aspire to.

Today, in a world increasingly filled with polished, auto-generated words, we need that kind of magic more than ever -- the magic of visible, relatable humanity in writing. We need to remember what human writing looks like.

It’s difficult. Everyone says, “Add the human touch,” or, “Write with soul.” But what does humanity look like? How does soul shine?

That's one of the main missions of Write10x: to help writers write more, and write more human. This is the topic we’ll be diving into today.

Human writing in the age of AI

Why talk about humanity in writing? Because today, humanity isn't just a bonus — it's a survival trait.

In a sea of robotic outputs, your human touch is what will make your writing float and ride the storm.

But "humanity" isn't some abstract, mystical thing. It has real, tangible qualities. I call the core idea your Unpromptable Voice: those things that inexplicably make you human. And thus, this newsletter edition is an exercise in how this Unpromptable Voice manifests in writing.

Let's learn from one of the masters: Anne Lamott. Here's what she taught me — and what you can weave into your own writing, even when you use AI.

1. Tell tangled, rambling stories

Humanity isn’t efficient. It’s messy, chaotic, and endlessly fascinating.

So, tell tangled, rambling stories. Yes, you heard me -- ramble on. But why, you ask?

Because that's how we live. One messy, unfinished story bleeding into the next. Anne layers stories on top of stories, weaving them like your charming weird grandma knitting a patchwork quilt. Somehow, you never feel lost. You feel invited.

When you work with AI, it often defaults to perfect little compositions. Plus, it's tempting to tidy everything up as you go along. Resist that urge, sometimes. Allow a few tangents. Let a sudden memory sneak in and take center stage.

It’ll make your writing feel less like a spreadsheet, and more like a heartbeat.

Of course, there’s a line. Too much mess becomes just…mess. Find that line. Dance on it.

2. Break the rules of conciseness (sometimes)

Online writing worships short paragraphs and ruthless minimalism. And sure, it works — when you're writing listicles about best email subject lines.

But sometimes, a long, meandering paragraph is the whole experience. It's a slow walk through someone else's mind.

Anne does this beautifully. She gives you paragraphs that spiral and twist, and by the time you stumble out the other side, you feel like you got to know her a little bit better through the journey. Maybe you've even found a little piece of yourself you didn't know you lost.

When editing your AI-generated drafts, don't be afraid to let a paragraph breathe, stretch, and run amok a little. Again: there's a difference between charming and chaotic. Find it.

3. Be boldly opinionated (without being overbearing)

AI defaults to neutrality when unprompted. Humans are not.

We have sharp, weird opinions. We have hills we're willing to die on. Anne never apologizes for her views; she plants her flag viciously, but with compassion and humor.

Your readers aren't looking for bland, say-nothing words. They're looking for someone to believe in, in subjects that they care about. So, inject your stances, especially when it ties into your mission.

Don't aim to please everyone. Aim to matter deeply to someone.

Just... be relevant. Don't become That Person ranting about their hot take on pineapple pizza or dogs vs cats or whatever, every opportunity they get.

Being boldly opinionated on things that matter is brave and admirable.

Being boldly opinionated on things that don’t really matter is just … annoying.

4. Reveal your cracks and vulnerabilities

AI outputs feel glossy because they are.

Real humans are cracked, patched up, and beautiful. We have cereal-sobbing sessions at 2 AM. We have doubts gnawing at our ankles. We second-guess our Substack Notes after posting them.

Anne talks about her fear, her insecurity, her mess-ups — and it makes her magnetic. Not because weakness is inherently attractive, but because honesty is. And we need more of that.

In your AI-assisted drafts, carve out spaces for your humanity. Share your fears. Share your real, unfiltered reactions.

But be wise: your clients might not need to know you're battling existential dread mid-project. But your peers might.

So, be tactful.

5. Make terrible, beautiful jokes

Humor is a secret handshake among humans.

Yep, even terrible jokes are an invitation. They say, "Hey, this is what I find funny! This is me!”

Anne's writing is full of strange, sideways jokes. Some make you snort. Some make you groan. All make you feel like she's right there beside you, elbowing you in the ribs.

Don't let AI strip the humor out of your work. Write a few jokes. Even if only one person smiles at it, you've built a bridge — a real one.

Trying too hard to be funny will make your readers cringe, though. In fact, I think trying too hard is worse than just not being funny at all.

So here's the trick: write what you find funny. Toss in something silly that makes you laugh. This way, you’re using humor not as a tactic, but as a means to connect with other people. You’re saying, “This is what I find funny, deal with it!”

Then, trust that your people will find you. Even if they don’t, you’ve still amused yourself.

6. Write like you're chatting with a friend

I’ve been an editor and writing course for some time. And from my experience, one of the biggest mistakes writers make is writing like they're submitting a term paper to a bored professor.

A term paper that no one wanted to read in the first place. Not even the professor.

Anne writes like she's sliding into the booth across from you at a school cafeteria. Like she's leaning in, pouring hot tea about your classmates, then laughing together with you. That's a big part of why she feels so real.

When you're writing (with or without AI), remember: you're not delivering a report. You're having a conversation.

Smile with your words. Nod. Make your reader feel seen.

One quick fix: Use "you" often. Not "the individual," not "one must." You.

Talk to them. They're listening.

Humanity is essential

AI will get smarter. Maybe someday it'll become sentient, and write essays that pass the Turing test while making you cry about your childhood dog.

But not today.

Today, your messy, brilliant humanity is still your best weapon. In a world drowning on gray, mediocre AI-generated sludge, your weirdness, your sadness, your stubbornness, your bad jokes — they’re a beacon.

The world doesn't need more perfect paragraphs.

It needs you.

Your imperfect, hilarious, heart-aching, gloriously alive voice.

And this essay gave you 6 ways to bring it out. I hope you use it.

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PS. Have you read Bird by Bird? I highly recommend it!

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PPS. If you loved this, you’re going to love my ebook, The Ultimate Guide to Authentic AI Writing. Buy Me A Coffee Donors will receive 50% off from the final price.