LLMs are like hyper-accelerators for cliches. It usually takes decades for writers to reuse the same tricks of language until they lose their freshness. There are a few big differences here: 1) AI generates language through probability, so it’s cliche by default, 2) millions of people are exposed to the same tropes of the current model, all at once, meaning it compresses semantic satiation down to weeks or even days, and 3) the cliches aren’t inventions, they’re mis-usages! “Needle in a haystack” was brilliant the first time, but most of our AI tropes come from misuse/overuse of a certain syntax without understanding how/why/when to use it. This becomes so annoying and so inescapable that we’re now bastardizing some of the basic devices that make our language rich.

Examples:

1. There are many ways to use an em-dash, but my favorite one is the parenthetical em-dash (an “innie,” a cousin of the parenthesis). These let you interject nuance—clarification, definition, elaboration, digression, etc.—into a sentence without destabilizing it. The sentence should be grammatically correct even if you were to omit everything within the em-dashes. When you use an em-dash right, I actually trust you more; it shows that you care to add an inner layer of detail so I get what you mean. AI commits two fouls with the em-dash: (a) they’re rarely parenthetical (AI uses it more like a semi-colon: to equate, not to elaborate); (b) it drowns us in them. Once per paragraph is a lot, once per sentence is suffocating (see next point).

2. “It’s not X, it’s Y.” This is a pretty standard way to compare two things, but AI does it in the cheesiest way: “it’s not just an app, it’s a revolution.” The second word is figurative, and usually, idiotically dramatic (especially if you use it, again, every sentence). Example: “You don’t pay Facebook in dollars—you pay in privacy, in time, in the surrender of agency. The platforms feed on asymmetry: they know you, but you don’t know them. This is not a free market; it is a digital serfdom hidden behind convenience.” (Italics added to enhance annoyingness). This is rhythmically and logically vacant, but the X/Y form has many variants. X can be a massive-run on, and Y can be a concise punchline. If done right, an X/Y can be the jewel of a paragraph.

3. “Delve” is a great word, but you never delve into a report. The etymology goes back to the 9th century and means “to dig” or “to rummage through.” It is not a synonym for “discuss.” It should be a word reserved for raccoonish or roach-like behavior. If you are delving, it better be disgusting: “I delved into my clogged sink drain with a bent hanger in one hand and a cup of draino in the other to fish out a centipede braid of hair that was longer than me.” This is how you delve.

4. A good metaphor is an idiosyncratic association. It’s unlikely, unexpected, and uncommon, which is why AI can’t do it well. If we wanted a metaphor for “unfortunate words,” AI would say something like “words are poison.” Poison is such an obvious fill-in for “bad,” but the word has all sorts of undertones that don’t work (it’s lethal, too dramatic). A better metaphor would be “words are slugs”; it’s unfamiliar and has multiple interpretations (Are these words slow? Slimy? Did you wish it didn’t exist?). AI is not considering the subtext, so it makes boneheaded associations that don’t have power, and often don’t make sense. Excessive AI metaphor slop is so uninspiring that it threatens to trivialize figurative language, but actually, inventing your own phrases might be the core joy of writing.

A consequence of EXTREME cliche saturation is that all us writers get paranoid about usage. As you read, you’ll catch yourself wondering if a cliche phrase is AI or not. As you write, you’ll become aware of the slugs in your own prose. This might be a good thing. While some will get infected by machine slang w/o realizing, it forces the writers doing actual writing to be more explicit about why and how they use language. What is your personal policy around semi-colon frequency? When are you allowed to curse? Do you know what “literally” means literally? If you pause and write through these linguistic dilemmas, you’ll end up with your own usage guide (which prevents you from being an em-dash denier or a parrot).