Just when I thought artificial intelligence couldn't possibly get worse for authors and illustrators, a new issue is on its way to the Australian courts that has me fired up, and writers and illustrators should be too. Many have recently learned that their books and artwork may have been copied and used to teach powerful computer programs how to write stories and create pictures. Not a single creator was sent a letter asking for permission or offered compensation for the use of their work. They found out after seeing reports that huge collections of books had been gathered to train these systems. Some searched online lists connected to those collections and recognized their own titles. When you discover your work may have been taken to build a machine, it's really hard to shrug that off and move on.

What That Means in Plain English

AI programs learn by “studying” large numbers of books and images. They look at how sentences are formed and how stories are structured. They examine how illustrations are drawn and how scenes are arranged. Then they use what they learned to create new material. The crux of the dispute isn't about fear of technology; it is about consent and compensation. If copyrighted work was included in that learning process without permission, the creators had no control over that use. 

Why This Hits So Hard

We all know how much time, effort, hair-pulling, and rending of garments went into the craft of creation. We revise drafts at the speed of a racing turtle while burning the midnight oil. We develop styles and voices that are uniquely human and stand out entirely as our own. When our very voices are used by a system to train it to sound like we do, it stinks. What we want to know is: why the heck wasn't I asked first?
 

What Can Be Done Now

There are a handful of practical steps that can be taken right away, but it's pretty limited to those who are traditionally published. Creators should read their publishing contracts carefully and look for any language about new technology or artificial intelligence. If that language is missing, it's prudent to start asking direct questions. The best place to start is with the literary agent. They are not representing creators out of the kindness of their hearts. This is a business, and they pay their bills, just like us. If we are not earning, neither are they. If what transpired before is done and dusted, at least we know what to look for before signing any future agreements. Another avenue is to follow professional organizations that are pressing for stronger protections and clearer rules. Join them, if possible, as those are the folks who can collectively consult lawyers who understand copyright law and discuss possible options. The good news is, they are already working on it. Pitchforks: activated.

While we can't undo what may already have happened overnight, we certainly can demand transparency, insist on clear permission for future uses, and support efforts that seek fair payment where our work is involved. This is about ownership, accountability, and respect for the people who actually create the books and art that fuel these systems—and we're all in this fight together.