In Which Grok Critiques Scott Lynch and Proves AI is Worthless for Writing Advice

I have growing concerns with a trend I’m seeing where AI is being promoted as a writing tool, especially for aspiring authors.

This is horrible advice.

I’ve conducted extensive experiments over a long period of time with AI, and I can say with confidence it’s far more harm than good, especially for aspiring authors. The core problem is that AI is trained on tens of thousands of books; the vast majority of them are mediocre at best, and most are far worse. If you use AI for feedback, you’re essentially working with a non-creative, non-intuitive parrot who’ll teach you how to write very badly.

Even Grok agrees with me:

Grok “beta reading” a scene from Scott Lynch’s The Lies of Locke Lamora is a fantastic case study in why you absolutely should not use AI like Grok for feedback on your writing.

Grok asserts that, “Several elements in this scene undermine its tension, clarity, and emotional impact,” including:

Unclear Stakes: The yellowjacket encounter drives the scene, but vague stakes weaken it. Locke’s pounding heart and hidden purse suggest danger, yet the consequences—imprisonment, violence?—remain undefined, making his fear generic.

Flat Antagonist: The yellowjacket feels like a stock watchman with predictable dialogue (“Empty your pockets”) and generic traits (narrow eyes, cudgel). His quick dismissal of Locke reduces suspense, feeling convenient.

Pacing Issues: The confrontation resolves too quickly, deflating the buildup. Locke’s palmed coins and “practiced lilt” are clever, but the watchman’s grunt and disinterest feel rushed. The shift to Locke’s grin is abrupt.

Worldbuilding Overload: Terms like “Isla Durona” and “yellowjacket” add flavor but lack context, risking confusion.

One-Dimensional Locke: Locke’s roguish charm shines, but his inner world is shallow, focused only on tactics.

Overwrought Prose: The ornate prose, with metaphors like “fading jadefire” sky and “quicksilver” canals, slows pacing and distracts from action. Phrases like “heart pounding not from exertion but from the weight of the purse” feel melodramatic.

Flat Dialogue: The dialogue lacks depth, with the yellowjacket’s lines (“You, boy. Stop.”) sounding like generic tropes and Locke’s responses (“Me, sir?”) leaning on rogue clichés. It’s functional but unengaging.

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Below, Grok provides specific notes on what it’d change to “elevate” this scene to a “professional, polished level,” focusing on “tightening the prose, deepening the stakes, enhancing the antagonist, and refining the pacing, worldbuilding, dialogue, and character depth.” It claims these suggestions will make the scene gripping, immersive, and emotionally resonant while preserving its “roguish charm” and that “these changes will transform the scene into a tight, vivid, and emotionally resonant moment that balances action, character, and worldbuilding—a true 10/10!”

As if Scott Lynch isn’t a 10/10 to begin with. But hey, let’s see if AI can improve on perfection.

Here are the “problems” Grok identified, and its solutions for them. Buckle up and make some popcorn, because this is a lot to take in.

Clarify and Heighten the Stakes

Issue: The stakes feel vague—Locke’s fear is implied, but we don’t know what capture would mean beyond inconvenience. This dilutes the tension of the yellowjacket confrontation.

Add a specific consequence: Show Locke’s awareness of Camorr’s brutal justice system. For example, insert a brief thought: “If they caught him, it wasn’t just a night in irons—Camorr’s watch fed thieves to the canal sharks.” This grounds his fear in a tangible, vivid threat.

Hint at personal stakes: Tie the theft to a larger goal to give Locke’s actions weight. For instance, as he clutches the purse, add: “Every coin was a step toward buying the crew’s freedom from Capa Barsavi’s tithe.” This makes the purse more than a prize—it’s a necessity.

Show physical stakes: During the confrontation, emphasize Locke’s vulnerability. Replace “his fingers twitching toward the dagger” with “his fingers grazed the dagger in his sleeve, useless against a cudgel’s reach.” This underscores the physical danger and his precarious position.

Impact: These changes make the stakes immediate and personal, transforming the scene from a generic chase into a high-stakes gamble with clear consequences.

Deepen the Antagonist

Issue: The yellowjacket is a flat archetype—gruff, suspicious, but easily fooled. His quick dismissal undermines the tension and makes Locke’s victory feel unearned.

Give him a distinct trait: Make the yellowjacket observant and cunning, not just a brute. Replace “his eyes were narrow” with “his eyes flicked to Locke’s boots, too clean for an errand-boy’s.” This shows he’s perceptive, raising the threat level.

Add a unique voice: Infuse his dialogue with Camorr’s flavor. Instead of “You, boy. Stop,” have him say, “Hold there, scut. You’ve got a thief’s tread.” The term “scut” and “thief’s tread” add local color and menace.

Extend his scrutiny: Make him harder to fool. After Locke shows the coppers, add: The yellowjacket leaned closer, his breath sour with cheap wine. “Coppers don’t jingle like silver, boy.” This forces Locke to think faster, showcasing his cunning.

Impact: A sharper, more distinctive yellowjacket makes the confrontation feel like a true test of Locke’s skills, elevating the suspense and making his escape more satisfying.

Refine Pacing and Tension

Issue: The confrontation resolves too quickly, and the shift to Locke’s grin feels abrupt, undermining the suspense built by his pounding heart and hidden purse.

Extend the confrontation: Add a beat where the yellowjacket tests Locke further. For example, after Locke shows the coppers, insert: The yellowjacket grabbed Locke’s wrist, twisting it to check for hidden sleeves. “Swear by the Twelve, eh? Thieves pray loudest when caught.” Locke could counter with a desperate lie: “I’m apprenticed to Master Trel, sir—ask at the Shifting Market!” This prolongs the tension and showcases his quick thinking.

Smooth the emotional arc: Transition gradually from fear to relief. Replace “melted into the crowd, his pulse still hammering” with “slipped into the crowd, his pulse slowing as the yellowjacket’s boots faded behind him. He patted the purse, safe beneath his tunic, and let a grin creep free.” This bridges the tension and triumph.

Cut unnecessary description: Trim the opening’s heavy imagery (“fading jadefire,” “quicksilver”) to keep the focus on Locke’s actions. For example, rewrite the first sentence: “The sky dimmed over Camorr’s canals, their ripples catching the last light as shadows stretched from a thousand bridges.” This maintains atmosphere but prioritizes pace.

Impact: A longer, more layered confrontation with a smoother emotional arc keeps readers on edge and makes Locke’s victory feel hard-won, while streamlined prose ensures the action flows.

Integrate Worldbuilding Seamlessly

Issue: Terms like “Isla Durona,” “yellowjacket,” and “Bridge of Seven Turnings” add flavor but lack context, risking confusion. They feel like set dressing rather than a lived-in world.

Tie worldbuilding to action: Ground terms in Locke’s perspective. Instead of “slipped through the crowds of the Isla Durona,” write “weaved through the Isla Durona’s spice merchants, their stalls thick with saffron and noise.” This gives the location texture without pausing the narrative.

Explain yellowjackets organically: When the yellowjacket appears, add a quick thought: “A yellowjacket—Camorr’s watch, named for their mustard coats and stinging cudgels.” This clarifies the term while reinforcing the threat.

Make the bridge active: Use the Bridge of Seven Turnings as a tactical element. Replace “halfway across the Bridge of Seven Turnings” with “paused on the Bridge of Seven Turnings, its sharp angles offering no cover from prying eyes.” This makes the setting a factor in Locke’s strategy.

Impact: Contextualizing worldbuilding through Locke’s actions and thoughts creates a vivid, immersive Camorr without slowing the narrative, making the setting feel integral to the story.

Add Depth to Locke

Issue: Locke’s charm and cunning are engaging, but his inner world is shallow, reducing him to a roguish trope. We don’t see what drives him beyond the thrill.

Reveal a deeper motivation: Show why Locke steals. During the confrontation, add a thought: “He couldn’t lose the purse—not when it meant food for Sabetha and the others.” This hints at loyalty to a crew, adding emotional weight.

Show vulnerability: Let Locke’s facade slip briefly. Instead of “letting a touch of nervousness bleed into it,” write “his grin faltered, a flicker of real fear breaking through before he forced it back.” This humanizes him, making his confidence more compelling.

Reflect on the victory: At the end, deepen his reaction. Replace “his grin was no longer feigned” with “his grin returned, sharp as a blade, but his hand lingered on the purse, heavy with the crew’s hopes.” This ties his triumph to his larger purpose.

Impact: A glimpse into Locke’s motivations and vulnerabilities makes him a richer, more relatable character, turning the scene into a personal as well as tactical victory.

Polish the Prose

Issue: The prose is overwrought, with metaphors (“fading jadefire,” “shadows lay heavy”) that slow pacing and feel melodramatic. Key moments, like Locke’s grin, lose impact amid florid language.

Streamline descriptions: Focus on precise, evocative imagery. Rewrite the opening: “Camorr’s canals shimmered in the fading light, their bridges casting long shadows. Locke Lamora, dressed as an errand-runner, moved through the Isla Durona’s crowds, the stolen purse a warm weight against his chest.” This sets the scene crisply, keeping the focus on Locke.

Emphasize key moments: Use vivid language selectively. For Locke’s grin, replace “letting a touch of nervousness bleed into it” with “his grin wavered, then sharpened, a thief’s mask over pounding fear.” This makes the moment pop without overloading it.

Vary sentence rhythm: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer ones to match the tension. During the confrontation, rewrite: “Locke froze. The yellowjacket’s boots thudded closer, his cudgel gleaming in the twilight. Every muscle screamed to run, but the crowd hemmed him in.” This mirrors Locke’s rising panic.

Impact: Tighter, more purposeful prose enhances pacing and immersion, ensuring vivid imagery supports the action rather than overshadowing it.

Enrich the Dialogue

Issue: The dialogue is functional but lacks personality, with the yellowjacket’s lines sounding generic and Locke’s responses leaning on cliché rogue charm.

Give the yellowjacket edge: Make his speech reflect Camorr’s grit. Instead of “You’ve got quick hands, boy,” have him say, “Quick hands, eh? You plucked that merchant like a fish from the canal.” This adds local flavor and menace.

Sharpen Locke’s wit: Let Locke’s responses blend charm and desperation. Replace “Me, sir?” with “Me, sir? I’m just a runner, dodging drunks and dogs.” This keeps his innocent act while hinting at his cleverness.

Add subtext: Use dialogue to reveal stakes. When the yellowjacket says, “Empty your pockets,” have Locke reply, “Pockets? Just coppers, sir—barely enough for a bowl of ash-broth.” The term “ash-broth” suggests poverty, selling his cover while nodding to Camorr’s culture.

Impact: Distinctive, subtext-rich dialogue brings characters to life, deepens the world, and makes the confrontation crackle with tension and personality.

Summary of Improvements

Stakes: Specific consequences (canal sharks, crew’s freedom) make Locke’s fear visceral and his goal urgent.

Antagonist: A cunning, observant yellowjacket with local flavor raises the threat, making Locke’s escape a true triumph.

Pacing: A longer confrontation with a smoother emotional arc builds suspense and earns the resolution.

Worldbuilding: Terms are woven into action and thought, creating a lived-in Camorr without exposition.

Locke: Deeper motivations (crew loyalty) and vulnerability (flicker of fear) make him compelling and relatable.

Prose: Streamlined imagery and varied rhythm keep the action brisk and immersive.

Dialogue: Distinctive, subtext-rich lines add personality and world flavor, making the exchange dynamic.

The Original Scene

The sky was a fading jadefire, the canals rippled like quicksilver, and the shadows of the city’s thousand bridges lay heavy across the water. Locke Lamora, in the guise of a common errand-runner, slipped through the crowds of the Isla Durona, his heart pounding not from exertion but from the weight of the purse he’d just lifted.

He was halfway across the Bridge of Seven Turnings when a voice cut through the evening murmur, sharp as a blade.

“You, boy. Stop.”

Locke froze, his fingers twitching toward the dagger hidden in his sleeve. The speaker was a yellowjacket, one of Camorr’s city watch, his mustard-colored coat glowing faintly in the twilight. The man’s eyes were narrow, his hand resting on the hilt of a cudgel.

“Me, sir?” Locke’s voice was all innocence, a practiced lilt. He widened his eyes, letting his shoulders slump just enough to sell the act.

“You’ve got quick hands, boy. I saw you brush that merchant back there.” The yellowjacket stepped closer, his boots thudding on the stone. “Empty your pockets.”

Locke’s mind raced. The purse—fat with silver volani—was tucked inside his tunic, too bulky to ditch without notice. He could run, but the bridge was crowded, and a sprint would scream guilt. Instead, he grinned, letting a touch of nervousness bleed into it.

“Pockets, sir? Just a few coppers for supper.” He turned them out slowly, revealing a sad handful of coins, carefully palmed from a hidden stash. “I’m no thief, I swear by the Twelve.”

The yellowjacket’s gaze flickered, suspicion warring with doubt. Locke held his breath, every muscle coiled, ready to bolt if the man pressed. Then, with a grunt, the watchman waved him off.

“Get gone, then. And keep your hands to yourself.”

Locke bobbed his head, mumbling thanks, and melted into the crowd, his pulse still hammering. By the time he reached the shadows of the Shifting Market, the purse was safely stashed, and his grin was no longer feigned. Another night, another game won.

Grok’s “Improved” Rewrite

Camorr’s canals shimmered in the fading light, their bridges casting long shadows. Locke Lamora, disguised as an errand-runner, wove through the Isla Durona’s spice merchants, their stalls thick with saffron and noise. The stolen purse, fat with silver, pressed warm against his chest—a lifeline for the crew’s freedom from Capa Barsavi’s tithe. His pulse quickened, not from the crowd’s press but from the weight of what capture would mean: Camorr’s watch fed thieves to the canal sharks.

He paused on the Bridge of Seven Turnings, its sharp angles offering no cover from prying eyes, when a voice sliced through the evening din, sharp as a blade. “Hold there, scut. You’ve got a thief’s tread.”

Locke froze. A yellowjacket—Camorr’s watch, named for their mustard coats and stinging cudgels—stood paces away, his eyes flicking to Locke’s boots, too clean for an errand-boy’s. The man’s hand rested on a cudgel, his breath sour with cheap wine. Locke’s fingers grazed the dagger in his sleeve, useless against the cudgel’s reach, and his mind raced. Run, and the crowded bridge would trap him. Lie, and he’d need to sell it.

“Me, sir?” Locke’s voice was a practiced lilt, all innocence. “I’m just a runner, dodging drunks and dogs.” He widened his eyes, shoulders slumping, though his grin wavered, a flicker of real fear breaking through before he forced it back.

The yellowjacket stepped closer, boots thudding on stone. “Quick hands, eh? You plucked that merchant like a fish from the canal.” His gaze bored into Locke’s. “Empty your pockets.”

The purse’s weight burned against Locke’s chest, too bulky to ditch unnoticed. He couldn’t lose it—not when it meant food for Sabetha and the others. Swallowing, he turned out his pockets slowly, revealing a sad handful of coppers palmed from a hidden stash. “Pockets? Just coppers, sir—barely enough for a bowl of ash-broth.”

The yellowjacket grabbed Locke’s wrist, twisting it to check for hidden sleeves. “Coppers don’t jingle like silver, boy. Swear by the Twelve, eh? Thieves pray loudest when caught.”

Locke’s pulse hammered, but he leaned into the lie. “I’m apprenticed to Master Trel, sir—ask at the Shifting Market! He’ll tan my hide if I’m late.” His voice cracked just enough to sell the desperation, his thoughts clinging to the crew’s faces—Sabetha’s sharp smile, Calo’s lazy grin.

The yellowjacket’s eyes narrowed, suspicion warring with doubt. He leaned closer, cudgel tapping his thigh, then snorted. “Get gone, scut. But I’ll know your face next time.”

Locke bobbed his head, mumbling thanks, and slipped into the crowd, his pulse slowing as the yellowjacket’s boots faded behind him. He patted the purse, safe beneath his tunic, and let a grin creep free, sharp as a blade. By the Shifting Market’s shadows, his hand lingered on the purse, heavy with the crew’s hopes. Another night, another game won.

You Be the Judge

Writing of course is subjective, like all art, but in my personal opinion Grok took an excellent scene and fairly butchered it. I certainly wouldn’t want a beta reader or editor like Grok touching my work.

Zero stars. Cannot recommend. Highly.

I’ve run AI through its paces for beta reading, proofreading, line editing, developmental editing, brainstorming, plot analysis, and just about every other creative or nuanced authorial task I could think of, and while it’s failed spectacularly at most, I’ll concede there are a few areas where it can be a fairly useful tool (but feedback and editing aren’t one of them).

Writing Tasks AI is (Pretty) Good At

1. Organizing Notes and Ideas

   • AI can take stream-of-consciousness notes and structure them into coherent outlines, summaries, or documents.

   • Example: Turn a jumbled brainstorm of character traits, plot points, and worldbuilding details into a clear narrative framework.

   • Why it works: AI excels at pattern recognition and can categorize chaotic text efficiently.

2. Summarizing Research or Background Material

   • AI can condense articles, historical data, or other sources into concise summaries for worldbuilding or context.

   • Example: Summarize medieval trade routes for a historical fiction setting.

   • Why it works: AI can process large datasets quickly and extract key points, saving time.

3. Creating Lists and Templates

   • AI can generate lists like character names, place names, or story tropes, or provide templates for things like query letters or synopses.

   • Example: “List 20 unique names for a sci-fi city” or “Provide a template for a thriller synopsis.”

   • Why it works: These are straightforward, formulaic tasks where AI’s ability to pull from patterns is an asset.

4. Basic Grammar and Style Checks

   • AI can catch repetitive phrasing, basic grammar errors, or inconsistent tenses in early drafts.

   • Example: Flag overused words like “very” or suggest varied sentence starters.

   • Why it works: These are rule-based tasks where AI’s pattern-matching can mimic a first-pass proofreader (though it’s not perfect).

5. Analyzing Genre Trends or Reader Preferences

   • AI can scan web content or X posts to identify popular themes, tropes, or reader reactions in a genre.

   • Example: “What are the trending themes in YA fantasy on X right now?”

   • Why it works: AI’s access to real-time data allows it to spot patterns in audience sentiment or market demands.

6. Formatting and Structuring Documents

   • AI can reformat messy drafts into consistent styles or organize manuscripts for submission.

   • Example: Convert a draft into a properly formatted script or apply consistent heading styles.

   • Why it works: AI handles repetitive, rule-driven tasks with precision.

7. Generating Placeholder Text or Descriptions

   • AI can create temporary descriptions for settings, characters, or objects to fill gaps in early drafts.

   • Example: “Describe a haunted forest in a gothic horror story.”

   • Why it works: These are disposable drafts that writers can build from, reducing the pressure to start from scratch.

Caveats

• Critical Filtering Required: AI’s output is only as good as the prompt and your ability to sift through it. Even in these tasks, you’ll need to discard generic or off-base suggestions.

• Not for Subjective Feedback: Avoid using AI for big-picture tasks like assessing emotional depth, character authenticity, or overall story quality—it lacks the intuition and context.

• Best for Pros or Savvy Writers: seasoned writers with a honed BS filter will get the most out of AI, using it for specific, low-stakes tasks while relying on human feedback for artistry.

The importaint thing to understand is that AI isn’t intelligent. It’s isn’t smart. It certainly isn’t creative. It’s a pattern-matching machine, nothing more. And it’ll make the most absurd critiques—like saying Abercrombie’s gritty realism “lacks emotional depth” because some random blog post it was trained on said so. Which is really the crux of the problem: it’s been trained on a metric buttload of, let’s be frank, complete shit writing, reviews from dubious “critics” typing on funky keyboards with Cheetos-crusted fingers in their mothers’ basements, and really bad advice from unreputable randos on the Internet who claim to be “writing gurus.”

It’s also been trained on some exceptionally high quality material, but that’s a minority in the marketplace of writing advice and it shows (and AI doesn’t weight a given respected expert in the field over Joe-Cheetos-Fingers).

AI is unreliable and untrustworthy and will lead you astray. It will give dramatically different responses depending not just on the wording, but the nuance of your prompt. In one session it’ll praise your writing as a “masterclass in world-building through dialogue” and in the next rake you over the coals for being a clichéd amateur hack. It will lavish kudos on your clever use of satirical social critique to subvert harmful stereotypes and then flip around and lambast you for “othering” and “orientalism.” It doesn’t know what the hell it’s doing. It’s just trying to do what it thinks you told it you wanted it to do. The nuance of the prompt is everything and willdetermine the output, which makes AI unreliable as a creative writing tool. Worse than unreliable, really. Not only does it fail spectacularly at being subjective—it’s not even remotely objective.

This is exceptionally dangerous for aspiring authors who haven’t honed their BS filter for bad feedback. Using AI as a writing tool will lead to far more harm than good, and I can’t discourage its use for feedback in your writing enough. It will make you a worse writer if you blindly follow its advice. Guaranteed.

Find humans you trust for feedback (and be wary because a lot of people can be worsethan AI). More importantly, study the masters of your genre. Read, read, read. And keep writing. These things will make you a better writer.

AI won’t.