The AI Detection Paradox: Why "I Can Tell" Actually Tells on You
How claiming to detect AI writing reveals more about the detector than the detected
Recently, I came across a post from a popular writing promotions organizer who runs book promotion events. They announced that they would no longer accept submissions with AI-generated covers or AI-assisted writing, boldly declaring: "Don't bother submitting something that's AI and try to get it past me. I will know."
*blink* I’m sorry, what?
I've been working extensively with AI for three years now. I can prompt AI to write in virtually any style or format, and I can confidently say that no one can reliably tell when I'm using AI assistance versus when I'm not. But I’ve also learned I can often spot when other people are using AI poorly.
And therein lies the paradox that reveals everything.
The Logic That Doesn't Add Up
If you claim you can reliably detect AI writing, you're essentially admitting you know intimately what AI writing looks like. But how would you know that unless you've spent considerable time working with AI tools yourself?
You can't recognize patterns you've never encountered.
I've noticed this pattern repeatedly among prominent figures in the writing community. They adamantly claim they don't use AI, but they also insist they can "just tell" when others do. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
The reality is more nuanced: Most people using AI well are completely undetectable. The ones who get caught are typically those who haven't learned effective prompting techniques yet. (Or they accidentally leave a prompt in a book, oops!)
What AI Detection Actually Reveals
After three years of extensive AI collaboration, I've developed an eye for certain patterns that suggest poor prompting:
AI loves lists of four things when humans typically use two or three. It has an obsession with participial phrases. It defaults to describing scents more often than most human writers would. It adores words like "tapestry" and "cacophony."
In dialogue, AI tends to create echo responses instead of using natural conversational gaps or silence. It has predictable structural patterns that become recognizable once you've seen them enough times.
But here's the rub: I only recognize these patterns because I work with AI constantly. I know its default behaviors because I've spent years learning to prompt it away from them.
Someone who genuinely doesn't use AI wouldn't know what to look for. They wouldn't recognize these subtle tells because they'd have no framework for understanding them.
The Shame Game Needs to End
Let's address the elephant in the room: there's no reason authors should be ashamed of using AI tools.
Virtually every industry is embracing AI assistance. Doctors use AI for diagnostics. Lawyers use AI for research. Graphic designers use AI for ideation. Marketers use AI for content creation. Why should writers be different?
This obsession with keeping writing "pure" feels antiquated in a world where AI assistance is becoming standard across professional fields. We live in a capitalist society where efficiency and productivity are valued. Artificial barriers to useful tools serve no one.
The majority of authors are quietly using AI now, whether they admit it publicly or not. Survey data consistently shows adoption rates around 50% and climbing. When prominent figures protest too loudly about AI while claiming detection abilities, it raises obvious questions about their own practices.
The Art of Invisible AI Collaboration
For authors who want their AI-assisted work to sound authentically human, the solution isn't avoiding AI. It's learning to collaborate with it more skillfully.
My best advice is to use as many examples as possible of your own writing. As I've discussed in previous articles, AI mirrors what it's given. If you provide your own work and ask AI to match that style, it's far more likely to produce writing that sounds like you rather than a robot.
Once you identify what AI does that you don't like, you can explicitly instruct it to avoid those behaviors. I regularly prompt AI to avoid excessive participial phrases, lists of four items, and overly ornate vocabulary choices.
The authors getting "caught" are typically those who haven't invested time in learning effective prompting techniques. With proper guidance, AI can produce writing that's indistinguishable from human-authored text.
The Underground and the Exodus
This gatekeeping is having predictable effects on the author community.
Many AI-using authors have gone underground, hiding their tools to avoid being kicked out of writing groups or losing long-standing friendships. They're producing excellent work but can't discuss their actual process publicly.
Others, like me, have chosen transparency and faced the consequences. I've lost friendships, missed opportunities, and encountered gatekeeping from established authors who once celebrated breaking down traditional publishing barriers.
The irony there is especially profound. Self-published authors who entered the industry because traditional gatekeepers excluded them are now becoming gatekeepers themselves.
But this is creating an inevitable bifurcation in the industry. AI-positive authors are beginning to band together, creating their own opportunities, networks, and promotional systems. They will not be stuck out in the cold. What goes around comes around.
The Hypocrisy of New Gatekeepers
What disappoints me most is seeing independent authors who fought against exclusion now practicing their own form of exclusion.
These are authors who self-published because traditional publishers rejected them or because they saw greater opportunities in being independent, who built communities around supporting fellow "outsiders," who understood what it felt like to be dismissed by established industry players.
Now they're doing the same thing to authors who use different tools.
This isn't about protecting literary integrity. It's about maintaining artificial hierarchies and excluding people whose processes differ from the “approved” methods.
Building Our Own Opportunities
For authors facing this discrimination, I have one primary recommendation: create your own opportunities.
Instead of begging for inclusion in spaces that don't want us, build better spaces. Organize promotions for AI-using authors. Create communities that embrace technological innovation. Support each other when traditional gatekeepers close their doors.
I no longer work with vehemently anti-AI authors or organizers. Instead, I focus my energy on building opportunities for authors who are embracing the tools that enhance their creativity and productivity.
The future belongs to authors who adapt, experiment, and support each other through technological change. Let the gatekeepers maintain their increasingly irrelevant standards while we build something better.
The Real Test of Quality
Here's what actually matters: do readers enjoy your stories? Do your books entertain, inform, or move people? Do you consistently produce work that serves your audience?
The tools you use to create that work are secondary to the value you deliver. Readers don't care whether you used AI assistance any more than they care whether you used spell-check or a grammar tool.
Quality is determined by the final product and its impact on readers, not by the purity of the process used to create it.
The Detection Delusion
The uncomfortable truth for self-appointed AI detectors is this: the best AI-assisted writing is completely undetectable.
Authors who've mastered AI collaboration are producing work that sounds entirely human because they've learned to guide AI toward their authentic voice rather than accepting generic output.
The only AI writing that gets detected is poor AI writing. And recognizing poor AI writing requires extensive familiarity with AI's default patterns — familiarity that can only come from personal use.
So when someone claims they can "just tell" when writing is AI-assisted while simultaneously insisting they never use these tools themselves, they're revealing far more than they intend.
The emperor has no clothes, and the community is starting to notice.
Moving Forward
The AI detection game is ultimately unsustainable. As tools improve and authors become more skilled at collaboration, the supposed "tells" will disappear entirely.
Meanwhile, the authors who are openly experimenting, learning, and improving their AI collaboration skills are building valuable expertise that will serve them well as the industry continues evolving.
The choice is clear: spend your energy trying to detect and exclude, or spend it creating and improving.
I know which side of that divide I want to be on. The question is: which side do you choose?
Have you encountered AI discrimination in writing communities? Are you finding ways to connect with other AI-positive authors? Share your experiences in the comments below — building these connections is how we create better opportunities for everyone.
If you're interested in learning more about effective AI collaboration that produces authentically human-sounding writing, check out our courses at Future Fiction Academy. We teach practical techniques for AI assistance that enhance rather than replace your unique creative voice.
Another Substacker was "highlighting" that most indie authors produce "crap". That was true before AI. My response was that the deciding factor was sales. It doesn't matter if the "quality" doesn't pass a particular author's checklist. I've regularly pointed out that there are AI "written" books on the Top 100 sales chart, so their outrage doesn't matter.
The anti-AI folks have way too many bullies in their group. I refuse to support bullies and hateful people.
I’ve been working with AI in my writing for a while now, and one thing I’ve noticed is that the reaction really depends on the genre. In some areas, particularly historical romance, suspicion alone can be enough to end your career in a group or community. People will cut your throat at the faintest whiff of AI involvement, and once you’ve got that “mark” against you, you’re done. By contrast, in more modern niches like small-town contemporary or romantasy, authors are often more open or at least pragmatic about it. The difference in tolerance is stark.
For me, AI is just another tool, like spellcheck or Grammarly. It helps me shape the words, but the final story is still mine—my voice, my choices. And readers? They don’t care what program I used, they care if the book makes them laugh, cry, or stay up too late turning pages. That’s the only thing that really matters.