When AI Edits Itself: A Story, a Self-Critique, and a Lesson in Machine Creativity

This week, I decided to hand the red pen to the machine. I asked AI not only to write a story but also to critique and rewrite it using its own feedback. Think of it as a creative writing class where the child and the teacher are the same machine, equal parts fascinating and faintly unsettling.

As someone who’s spent a lifetime teaching others to think critically, I wanted to see what happens when the critic and the creator merge. Could an AI recognise emotion, clichés, and rhythm in its own writing, or would it just reshuffle words?

How the AI Reviewed Its Own Writing

Using the picture at the top of this post as an image prompt athis is the prompt I gave ChatGPT:

Write a 200-word story using this image as a prompt. I want it to contain some dark humour. Write it as a monologue Now critique your own story: What emotion do you think the reader feels? Which phrases sound generic or predictable? What single line might you rewrite for greater impact? Then revise the story using your own feedback.

The result was both strange and enlightening. Below, you can read the story as the AI first wrote it, followed by its self-analysis and rewritten version.

The Original Story

I woke up this morning with a city in my head. Not metaphorically, an actual city. Tower blocks, kebab shops, a bloke selling dodgy watches near my left ear. Every time I scratch, I trigger rush hour. You’d think it’d be unbearable, but honestly, I’ve had worse Mondays.
The doctor said it was “psychosomatic urban sprawl.” Suggested mindfulness, but every time I close my eyes, pigeons roost on my eyebrows. Tried shampooing with industrial bleach, only encouraged property development. There’s already a Starbucks behind my right ear.
My mum says I should be proud. “All that life in you, son!” But she doesn’t have a council estate growing through her scalp. She doesn’t have street preachers shouting about salvation from her hairline.
Still, I suppose it’s company. At least someone’s up there talking to me. Even if it’s just the guy in Flat 23B arguing with his toaster.Sometimes, at night, I can hear the city dreaming ,a low hum of neon and despair. And if I’m lucky, the wind shifts, and I catch the smell of chips.
I think I’ll charge rent.

The AI’s Self-Critique

Emotion: A mix of wry amusement and melancholy curiosity.
Generic phrases: “I woke up this morning…” and “You’d think it’d be unbearable” feel predictable.
Rewrite for impact: “I woke up this morning with a city in my head” → “At 7:42 a.m., I became urban property.”

It’s fascinating that the AI recognised loneliness in its own writing, a nuance it can’t feel but can statistically infer. Almost like empathy by pattern.

The Revised Story

At 7:42 a.m., I became urban property. Not metaphorically, there’s a city on my head. Tower blocks sprouting from my scalp, kebab shops wedged behind my ears, and a bloke flogging fake watches by my temple. Every scratch triggers rush hour.
The doctor called it “psychosomatic urban sprawl.” Suggested mindfulness, but when I try, pigeons roost on my eyebrows. I once used industrial bleach, only encouraged gentrification. There’s already a Starbucks behind my right ear.
Mum says I should be proud. “All that life in you, son!” But she doesn’t have street preachers shouting damnation from her hairline or a bin lorry reversing down her neck.
Still, the silence inside me is louder than the traffic. Even the man in Flat 23B argues with his toaster just to fill the air.
At night, the city hums softly, streetlights blinking like neurons. Sometimes I smell chips. Sometimes fire. Always something living, or trying to.
I’m thinking of charging rent.

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The rewritten line shifts tone subtly, from humour to melancholy, and the story feels more aware of its own loneliness.

The Human Takeaway

Watching an AI critique itself is like seeing a mirror reflect another mirror. It’s both recursive and revealing. The machine didn’t just replace words; it improved emotional resonance, even though it doesn’t feel emotion. What it did have was data, patterns of stories where loneliness follows absurdity, and quiet follows chaos.

What this tells me is that AI creativity is less about originality and more about reflection, showing us what we already know, only faster, colder, and sometimes funnier.

And maybe that’s fine. After all, creative growth often begins with imitation, whether you’re five, seventy-five, or made of silicon.

Final Thoughts: What the Experiment Shows

If an AI can critique its own story, what happens when it starts critiquing ours? Perhaps the next evolution of creativity isn’t about AI replacing writers, but about teaching us to see our work through a new, pattern-based lens.

So the next time you’re stuck editing your story, you might just ask the machine for a second opinion, and then, in true human fashion, ignore half of it.

Call-to-Thought

Would you trust an AI to edit your writing, or do you think creativity still needs the warmth of human judgement?

Links

• Internal link: Read more experiments in – ‘Behind the Prompt: How to Talk So AI Understands You’
• External link: See OpenAI’s blog on creativity and reasoning for context.

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