Lately, I’ve been wondering whether there is still a place for human writing in a world increasingly shaped by AI.

I write this as I am about to publish a collection of my poetry. A project that should fill me with excitement and anticipation. Instead, I find myself wrestling with doubt.

Publishing my poetry has become something of a difficult feeling lately. It seems that poetry can now be generated instantly, in endless quantities, by machines. Sometimes I wonder whether anyone will be able to tell the difference anymore. Sometimes I wonder whether it matters.

I find myself questioning whether I should continue sharing my words on platforms like this, on social media, and across the digital landscape. There is so much content, so much noise, and now so much of it can be generated in seconds. It makes me pause and ask: What is the value of adding my own voice to the mix?

The truth is, I don’t have an answer.

I am navigating uncertain terrain, trying to understand what feels authentic, meaningful, and worthwhile. Some days I feel inspired to keep writing, believing that human experiences, observations, and stories still matter. Other days I wonder whether my energy would be better spent elsewhere.

Perhaps this uncertainty is part of the journey. Every technological shift has challenged creators to redefine their place in the world. Maybe this moment is asking us to do the same.

For now, I am sitting with the questions rather than rushing toward conclusions.

Why do we write?

Who are we writing for?

What makes a human voice valuable?

If anyone finds the time to respond, I’d genuinely appreciate hearing your thoughts. How are you navigating creativity, expression, and connection in these AI times? Are you asking yourself similar questions, or have you found clarity that I haven’t yet?

I’d love to know.

Warmly,

-T.Winther

PS: And if by chance you would like to read my poetry collection… It will be out this summer.

Now. Or Never - FUCK IT!