Handwriting, Typewriters, and AI: What We Talk About When We Talk About “Original”

When I was 13, I locked myself in my bedroom with an Olivetti typewriter, a spiral-bound how-to manual, and sheer determination to teach myself to touch-type.

For a few days, it was nothing but repetetive drills: fjfjfj, dkdkdk, asdf, jkl; … until I finally reached the milestone of typing “the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog” without looking at the keyboard. 

Learning to touch type has been one of the most valuable skills I’ve carried with me. It’s helped me as a communicator, a marketer, a content creator, and now as an author. Most of all, it allowed my ideas to flow faster and clearer - and to be shared more widely than handwriting ever could. 

It’s not lost on me that every leap - from handwriting to typewriters, from typewriters to computers - was met with resistance. People worried something human would be lost. And yet, each tool simply gave us more reach, more clarity, more ways to get our ideas into the world. 

Which brings me to AI. 

There’s been a lot of talk lately about whether using AI to write or refine your content is somehow less authentic. As if the moment a machine touches the words, the soul of the message disappears. 

But here’s a thought that’s been simmering for me (Nina), one I haven’t seen discussed clearly yet: 

Using AI to shape your copy (caveat there!) is no more “inauthentic” than typing your thoughts instead of handwriting them.

Let me explain. 

We’ve been using machines to express ourselves for over a century.  

When typewriters first came along, I’m sure some people thought we were losing something essential. After all, handwriting was personal full of flair, emotion, nuance.  

Every person’s lettering was different. Typing made it all look the same. When we stopped writing by hand, did we lose our uniqueness? 

Not when the intent was to turn an original idea into written form.  
 
And when computers replaced typewriters, we took another leap  - the ability to edit, copy, paste, and reshape our ideas fluidly in real-time. 
 
Suddenly our ideas could travel further, faster. We could share them with more people. We didn’t have to painstakingly rewrite everything (at that time it was mostly assignments!)  from scratch.  

Did that make our thinking less real? 
Of course not. It just changed how we shaped and shared it. 

Just like typed prescriptions replaced messy doctor handwriting for the sake of safety and clarity - we’ve learned that communication has to be fit for purpose.
(And let’s be honest - no one misses trying to decode a medical scribble.) 

Many of us vividly remember the old days of pharmacists trying to decipher a doctor’s handwriting, squinting at the page, sighing, and wondering what on earth was actually written.

Meanwhile, you’re holding your breath, hoping it’s clear enough for them to hand over the right medication, without a delay… or worse, the wrong dosage or product. (Thankfully, script QR codes are the next iteration of that story - and you won’t hear me grumbling about that technology either.) 

The same shift has happened in how we communicate more broadly: every new tool has historically made things clearer, faster, and more reliable - even if it changes the form. 

We don’t judge someone today for writing an email instead of sending a handwritten letter. We judge what they say. 
 
And if a handwritten note does show up it’s special, because it’s rare. Not because it’s inherently communicating a deeper or “more original” thoughtful message. 

The legacy of handwriting isn’t erased by technology. It’s made more meaningful by contrast. It becomes a choice - an intentional gesture, not a default.

The same is true with AI.

If you use it thoughtfully (very big "IF" there, of course,) AI doesn’t replace your voice any more than a keyboard replaces your mind.

It’s simply a tool that can help you shape what you think and get it into the world more clearly, more quickly, and often more powerfully. 

But....but....but.....but....
it only works if what you’re thinking in the first place is actually worth saying.

The Gravity Lives in the Thought, Not the Font 

No one reads a powerful essay and thinks, “This would be more meaningful if it were in their handwriting.”  We read for the insight. The clarity. The originality. 

The brilliance of the thought doesn’t come from how raw or untouched it is, it comes from whether it has cut-through. Whether it matters. And ultimately, whether it moves people.  

AI can help shape. Edit. Clarify. 
But it can’t substitute for gravity. It can’t invent lived experience. Or your unique perspectives or insights.  

But having access to keyboards and voice transcription doesn’t mean we should stop teaching kids to write by hand.  

It doesn’t mean we no longer value handwriting as a form of self-expression or cognition. It simply means we use the right tool for the right moment.

It’s Not Either-Or. It’s Purpose-Aligned 

Some moments call for full automation.
Some call for voice notes. 
Others call for the rawness of a scribbled journal entry. 
Or the precision of a carefully honed article. 

Or in some cases (like this one), the power of a typed post refined by a digital assistant. 
 
This post originated from a seemingly-random-yet-somehow-connected shower thought train, into something you can absorb, reflect on, and apply to your own brand or business. 

And in a world that’s changing fast - where attention is fractured, and noise is everywhere – without the use of a digital assistant, quite honestly, this thought wouldn’t have made it to you.  

Your original thinking is more valuable than ever. So use whatever tools you need to shape it. Don’t apologise for that. Just make sure the thinking is yours. 

That’s what makes the difference.