A Tanka Poem and Discussion on Authentic Versus AI-Generated Comments

Writers strive to connect through their words, much like a heartbeat that sustains life, contrasting sharply with the lifeless responses generated by AI. The artwork accompanying this piece was created by jules - Miz Mindful using Canva Pro, reflecting her interpretation of the draft.

My Tanka

Allow my highlights to speak words of praise for what moved me while I hope this comment resonates more with you than those from AI.

This tanka emerged from my reflections while commenting on one of Conni Walkup Hull's remarkable presentations. If you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend you do!

In crafting my poem, I felt uneasy about repeating "touched me" and "touches you" closely. I considered substituting “touched” with “impressed,” but it felt too detached. Ultimately, I revised “touches you more” to “means more to you” and replaced “and” with “while,” as I prefer to avoid conjunctions in syllable-constrained poetry unless they add significant meaning.

Many of us view AI-generated responses as disingenuous—often overly summarizing the original content. While some still express gratitude towards the "writer," I frequently disregard these automated replies. A recent comment on Conni’s work raised my suspicions, despite her appreciative response.

I sometimes respond to these soulless accounts with a mix of sarcasm and gratitude, indicating that I see through their facade. Their subsequent replies often reveal whether they genuinely engaged with my response or merely used AI to craft their reaction.

Readers, you don't need to impress us with how deeply you understand our work. Don't fret about your English skills, whether they're strong or lacking. Be authentic; share what moved you, how it made you feel, and how it impacted you.

“You are Leading a Worthwhile Life and It is an Honor to Know You :)”

Such heartfelt comments uplift many writers, a sentiment that AI cannot replicate, even when it produces seemingly emotional phrases.

This morning, I came across Ulf Wolf’s insightful post, Senses, An Element of Fiction, where he prompts writers to consider where they derive their details. The answer, he notes, is straightforward: through our senses.

Ulf supports this idea with quotes from renowned authors like Flannery O’Connor, Ursula K. Le Guin, and Stephen King, emphasizing the importance of sensory experience in writing.

I contributed this thought:

“I once advised a mentee to avoid telling readers that a character is scared. Instead, illustrate what observers would sense to convey that fear.”

Ulf also quoted Don DeLillo, who aptly stated:

“Taste and smell can safe crack memory in the shadow of an instant.”

This mirrors Conni’s captivating writing style. She opens her essay with:

“I once stood, mesmerized, at the edge of a high cliff overlooking an ocean so vast and glorious it took my breath away. I specifically tried to burn it in my memory so I would never forget the way the light reflected off the sea as it undulated out to the endless horizon; the way the wind with its salty tang felt rushing past my face and how I felt. I wanted to save forever in my heart the way the surf boomed against the lava rock, throwing up spray that sparkled like diamonds, sounding like the very voice of God.”

A true masterpiece, Conni’s work avoids passive voice entirely, steering clear of any conjugation of the verb “to be” in any form.

Examples of active versus passive voice illustrate this distinction:

Passive voice, not adverbs, fills the cemetery where good writing goes to die. King seems to agree with my stance on passive constructions, although we diverge on the use of adverbs.

Take, for instance, Toni The Talker’s engaging introductory line about a lesser-known female Black sculptor:

“Enraptured by a likeness of Benjamin Franklin on public display in 1864 awakened a dormant instinct. A spiritual spark would grow into a fire that lit artist Edmonia Lewis from within.”

This compelling opening drew me in, compelling me to read more of Toni’s work, Edmonia Lewis: Serendipitously Sculpting Her Story.

In closing, I also crafted a playful Shakespearean sonnet reflecting on the recent spamming issues faced by writers:

Catch Us If You Can!

A sonnet of scammers have Medium playing whack-a-mole

A Note on Tanka Poetry

While tanka poetry is traditionally recognized as having five lines with a 5/7/5/7/7 syllable structure, the most classic form consists of an unbroken line totaling 31 syllables. I typically write the five-line version or utilize it within a poem containing multiple tanka stanzas.

Fans of the Yellowstone prequel 1883 might enjoy my tanka series inspired by a scene in which characters prepare their wagons for a river crossing. Sam Elliot’s character advises the German immigrants to lighten their loads, confronting one wagon laden with musical instruments. The owner protests that leaving behind his life's work would reduce him to begging. Elliot's character insists they must shed their past identities to succeed as pioneers.

To conclude, here are two more of my unbroken line tankas:

In my creative journey, I harness the energy that propels me forward, fueling my passion and creativity.

Marcus (Gregory Maidman)