
Artificial intelligence is intended to facilitate creative work. It can write summaries, generate ideas, and even design images. That’s the theory, at least. But when it comes to my brand of dark fiction—psychological thrillers that linger in uncomfortable places—AI loses it.
Whenever I ask it to write a chapter brief, it scans it and either denies my request outright or dilutes the material. I’ll describe a scene that’s raw, unsettling, or morally complex, and instead of leaning into it, the system takes a polite detour. It swaps passion for politeness. It sanitises it, rounding off edges that were meant to be angular and cutting.
It’s almost as if AI fears darkness itself.
For instance, when I describe a chapter involving betrayal, jealousy, or manipulation, the AI highlights “Can’t Process” and conveniently skips over the moral decay that gives my story its pulse. When a relationship collapses into obsession, it says “Unable to Continue”. When a character crosses an unforgivable line, it is referred to as “Unacceptable Themes”. The machine appears desperate to shield readers from discomfort, even when discomfort is the very point.
The same happens with images. Ask for something gritty, noir, or psychologically charged, and it panics. The output is refused, softened, stylised, or metaphorical—anything to avoid confronting the darker themes head-on. When I request an image that hints at danger or erotic tension, it replaces it with symbolism: candles, shadows, rain-streaked windows. The result is abstract, not honest.
That’s why many of the blog briefs and visuals you see attached to my posts aren’t written by AI. They’re mine—handcrafted because I had to write what the machine refused to touch. I’ve learned that if you want authenticity in the dark corners of human experience, you can’t rely on artificial intelligence to go there. You have to walk that corridor alone.

This doesn’t mean AI is useless. It can correct grammar and suggest layout improvements. It’s just not built to sit comfortably with or support sinful activities. Its code of ethics stops it from exploring the same themes that define my genre — lust, control, betrayal, guilt, and the secret lives people lead behind respected doors.
Dark fiction requires empathy, not censorship. It needs an artist to look at humanity without flinching—to hold up a mirror and say, this is what we are when no one’s watching. Machines can’t do that. They’re programmed to avoid pain, controversy, and moral ambiguity, but that’s exactly where the richest stories live.
So I’ve made peace with AI’s limitations. I’ll keep using it for the technical work—the tidying, the scheduling, the SEO—but when it comes to creative depth, that’s my territory. The darkness is where I think, write, and feel most alive.
AI can watch from the lit side. I’ll remain in the shadows, doing what I’ve always done—writing about the things that polite algorithms are too afraid to say.
–Michael (Dark fiction. Author of SEETHINGS (the first book), free for a limited time)
SEETHINGS promises a gripping psychological thriller that blends murder, passion, and secrets of a sexless marriage. Forman’s vivid prose draws readers into a world where lightning illuminates the skies and hidden truths. As the storm clouds gather, Mitchell’s journey promises to unravel more than just the mystery of the murders.

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