I write for television, both series and movies. Much of my work is historical or fact-based, and I have found that researching with ChatGPT makes Googling feel like driving to the library, combing the card catalog, ordering books and waiting weeks for them to arrive. This new tool has been a game changer. Then I began feeding ChatGPT my scripts and asking for feedback. The notes on consistency, clarity and narrative build were extremely helpful. Recently I went one step further: I asked it to write a couple of scenes. In seconds, they appeared — quick paced, emotional, funny, driven by a propulsive heartbeat, with dialogue that sounded like real people talking. With a few tweaks, I could drop them straight into a screenplay. So what ethical line would I be crossing? Would it be plagiarism? Theft? Misrepresentation? I wonder what you think. — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
“We’re done here.” Some years ago, sleepless in a hotel room, I flicked through TV channels and landed on three or four shows in which someone was making that declaration, maybe thunderously, maybe in an ominous hush. “We have nothing more to discuss.” “This conversation is over!” Do people really talk like that? Possibly, if they’ve watched enough television.
My point is that a good deal of scripted TV has long felt pretty algorithmic, an ecosystem of heavily recycled tropes. In a sitcom, the person others are discussing pipes up with “I’m right here!” After a meeting goes off the rails, someone must deadpan, “That went well.” In a drama, a furious character must sweep everything off the desk. And so on. For some, A.I. is another soulless contraption we should toss aside, like a politician in the movies who stops reading, crumples the pages and starts speaking from the heart. (How many times have we seen that one?) But human beings have been churning out prefab dialogue and scene structures for generations without artificial assistance. Few seem to mind.
When screenwriters I know talk about generative A.I., they’re not dismissive, though they’re clear about its limits. One writer says he brainstorms with a chatbot when he’s “breaking story,” sketching major plot points and turns. The bot doesn’t solve the problem, but in effect, it prompts him to go past the obvious. Another, an illustrious writer-director, used it to turn a finished screenplay into the “treatment” the studio wanted first, saving himself days of busywork. A third, hired to write a period feature, has found it helpful in coming up with cadences that felt true to a certain historical figure. These writers loathe cliché. But for those charged with creating “lean back” entertainment — second-screen viewing — the aim isn’t achieving originality so much as landing beats cleanly for a mass audience.
So why don’t the writers feel threatened? A big reason is that suspense, in some form, is what keeps people watching anything longer than a TikTok clip, and it’s where A.I. flounders. A writer, uniquely, can juggle the big picture and the small one, shift between the 30,000-foot view and the three-foot view, build an emotional arc across multiple acts, plant premonitory details that pay off only much later and track what the audience knows against what the characters know. A recent study found that large language models simply couldn’t tell how suspenseful readers would find a piece of writing.
That’s why I hear screenwriters talk about A.I. as a tool, not an understudy with ambitions. I realize you’ve got another perspective right now: “We’re not so different, you and I,” as the villain tells the hero in a zillion movies. But don’t sell yourself short. You fed the machine your writing before you asked it to draft a scene. You made it clear what dramatic work was to be done. And so long as you and the studio or production company are consenting parties on this score, you’ll be on the right side of the Writers Guild of America rules. Your employers wanted a script; you’ll be accountable for each page they read. And though generative A.I. was trained on the work of human creators, so were you: Every show you’ve watched, every script you’ve read, surely left its mark. You have no cause to apologize.
Does the entertainment industry? It was hooked on formula, as I’ve stressed, long before the L.L.M.s arrived. Some contrivances endure simply because they’re legible, efficient and easy to execute. Take the one where one character has news to share with another, but is interrupted by the other’s news, which gives the first character reason not to share her own news. Then comes the inevitable: “So what was it you wanted to tell me?” Ulp! Writers have flogged that one for decades; why wouldn’t a bot cough it up? The truth is that many viewers cherish familiarity and prefer shows, especially soaps and franchise fare, to deliver surprises in unsurprising ways. Still, there will always be an audience for work that spurns the template — for writers who, shall we say, think outside the bot.
That’s the bigger story. In the day-to-day life of a working writer, the question is less abstract. If people press you about your A.I. policy, point to the guild’s rules. Tell them that every page you submit reads the way you want it to. Then announce: We’re done here.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from a letter writer who was concerned about her daughter’s steady weight gain and curious about how to talk to her about it without coming across as “body shaming.” She wrote:
“I have a 26-year-old daughter who from a very early age studied dance. For a while, we thought she might pursue it professionally, but by the time she was applying for colleges it was clear that she had decided not to. Once she made that decision, she stopped taking dance classes. We were disappointed — she was a beautiful dancer — but we were supportive of her choice. She found a major she loved and is doing very well. We couldn’t be happier about that. I’ve noticed, however, that since she stopped dancing she has steadily gained weight. Lately, every time her dad and I see her, she has put on more weight. We want to have a conversation with her about it, but we’re concerned that she will think that we’re body-shaming her. She can get defensive about things. I am particularly concerned about the things she loves to eat. She gravitates toward sugar and fatty foods, and isn’t very active. We have lots of diabetes on both sides of our family, and I’ve subtly tried to mention this family risk. I don’t think she has taken this in, however. She may be headed for a serious weight problem. How can we raise this with her without making her feel self-conscious or judged, and without pushing her away from us? We love and respect her and want to see her live a healthy life. Please advise! — Name Withheld”
In his response, the Ethicist noted:
“You seem worried that raising the subject at all would amount to body-shaming. But if your concern is genuinely about her health rather than her appearance, there is nothing inherently wrong with speaking up. The real problem with body-shaming is the shaming part. It often leaves people feeling worse about themselves, studies have found, sometimes even driving the very behaviors, like overeating, that you’d like to prevent.
So think carefully about what you want to say as well as how you want to say it. The way you describe your daughter’s history suggests you still see her through the lens of who she was as a young dancer — slim, graceful and intensely active. If the undertone of your concern is nostalgia for the lean dancer she used to be, she will hear it, no matter what words you choose, and you’ll only push her away.”
(Reread the full question and answer here.)
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As a former collegiate athlete, I used to work out up to eight hours per day. With all those hours of physical activity comes a much higher calorie diet than one might ordinarily have. Post graduation, two things happened: I was no longer putting in so many physical hours, and I had a bit of an aversion to planned “workouts” after so many years of required activity. I wish someone had talked to me about how to adjust my diet. . The fact that the letter writer’s daughter (maybe) is still in college — college food service is high calorie and often unlimited, a terrible combination for someone who’s mind and body aren’t on the same page yet. If it is feasible for her, things that helped me were guided help: a personal trainer or access to finesses classes that made workout sessions fun; a nutritionist or a tailored meal plan. The letter writer should know that the daughter is well aware that she’s not in the same physical condition as when she was actively dancing, and she probably knows it is not feasible to expect to get back there. — KRC
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As someone who has dealt with weight issues my entire life, I can confidently say that the appropriate thing to say to someone struggling with their weight is: “I’m so glad to see you. I really value our time together and hope you are doing well.” Beyond that, someone else’s body isn’t any of your business. Anyone who gains weight is acutely aware of that fact and doesn’t need someone else’s commentary. They do need to hear that they are valued. And from a loved one, this should be unconditional. — Chris
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The letter writer says this is about her daughter’s health, and that is frequently the way this is worded. But would she feel the same way if her daughter was slim but not working out several times a week? Our society has decided it is OK to treat weight issues as a choice. It may take you a while to get used to her new size, but you will. You may even be embarrassed about it. However, that is coming from our societal views on size. Your daughter needs to feel good about her body; valuing herself and her body is crucial if there is any likelihood of change. — Kay
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Given the fat-phobic society we live in, it’s likely that the daughter already feels unnecessarily bad about her weight. Unhelpful suggestions from her mother who fondly remembers her as a skinny ballerina will only hurt. There is no such thing as a well-meaning comment about someone else’s body. She should keep her hurtful and outdated opinions to herself. — Deborah
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The Ethicist’s response rightfully tells the parent not to shame the daughter, but then concedes that there is a health concern with the daughter gaining weight. While weight gain and weighing more can be correlated with increased health risks, so can weight loss and weighing less in different instances. Being fat does not necessarily make you less healthy, and gaining weight after leaving a sport/activity known for the prevalence of eating disorders among its members (like dance) may actually show a more positive relationship with food. Either way, the parent should encourage the daughter to make sure she has access to health care, make sure she knows all relevant family health history, and then leave it alone. — Evelyn
Kwame Anthony Appiah is The New York Times Magazine’s Ethicist columnist and teaches philosophy at N.Y.U. To submit a query, send an email to [email protected].
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