Who is the greater writer: the one who creates narrative, theme, and symbolism from nothing, or the one whose prose is richer, whose imagery more vivid—but who had endless inspiration to draw from?

The easier answer is to say the former—but who really is the former? Shakespeare drew from history, Homer from myth, and Dante from the church. So who did the first poet draw from?

The first known poet in recorded history is Enheduanna, a Sumerian high priestess who wrote hymns and poems dedicated to the goddess Inanna and the moon god Nanna. So even she drew from her faith.

So what was the first original thought in human history?

If we take "thought" to mean a self-generated mental abstraction rather than an instinct or imitation, then common sentiment is that it was probably the invention of symbolic representation, when humans first decided that one thing could stand for another (a wall carving representing an animal). Another one might've been awareness of time and death: the first time a human realized "I will die", or "this happened before".

Was everything that followed just a cascading effect of that?

Many people argue that generative AI deprives humans of creativity, but what even is creativity? If every idea builds on what came before, then our notion of originality is already flawed. What we statically define as creativity should instead be thought of as a constantly evolving thesis defined by the context of what already exists in that given moment.

It's an unsettling thought—that we may have never truly been original, only iterative—but it might be true. AI is just a really good way of consolidating all the creativity that we as humans have captured throughout history into one vast, searchable entity.

What I know for certain is that I'm writing better now than I was three years ago. I'm also thinking more clearly, and I'm solving problems more intelligently. You can argue that just because my output has improved doesn't necessarily mean I have, but maybe even that very distinction keeps evolving. There was a time in history when Mark Twain's submission of a typewritten manuscript was perceived by many as a betrayal of the writer's craft.

Long before that, our ancestors memorized entire epics because paper didn't exist, and they lost that skill when writing made it unnecessary—but they gained permanence. We too are engaged in the same exchange. The story of human progress is one of continual substitution, where each new medium reshapes our capacities even as it redefines what it means to be capable.

And so I try to approach this question with optimism and curiosity: what ability do we have now that our kids might not—but what will they gain in return?

11/09/25