How to De-AI Your Writing (And Why It Matters)
Let’s be clear: we all know what’s happening.
AI is being used in the college application process—extensively. Not just by students looking to plagiarize, but by those simply hoping to structure a paragraph, reword a sentence, or shake themselves loose from the judgmental blinking eye of the cursor.
But what happens next is crucial.
Because as soon as AI touches your writing, you are faced with a choice: polish it into something that sounds like you, or risk sending in something that sounds unmistakably like everyone else.
This post is about how to do the former. And it begins by noticing what machines do far too often.
The “Fluorescent Hum” and Other AI Tics
Let’s start with a small but telling pattern.
The phrase “fluorescent hum” has become a kind of literary timestamp—a remnant of GPT’s training data that appears, with uncanny frequency, in opening paragraphs. Why?
Because it’s poetic. It’s sensory. It implies tension or monotony or self-awareness in a way that’s hard to pin down, and therefore broadly applicable. Which, in AI logic, makes it a useful trick.
Unfortunately, it’s also everywhere. And readers—especially experienced ones poring over admissions essays—are seeing these phrases pop up stochastically, evoking a hmm for very “hum” they see.
The Rule of Three (And Its Overuse)
AI writing loves tricolons—that is, a list of three phrases for rhetorical rhythm. For example:
“My English class was a revelation, a turning point, a second home.”
It sounds good. But AI sounds good too often. The rhythm becomes predictable, the emotion formulaic. The technique that was once persuasive becomes a fingerprint of artificiality.
The problem isn’t the rule of three itself. The problem is AI’s inability to play with it. Let’s take a look at a recent short story by Joyce Carol Oates, “The Frenzy,” which was published in the New Yorker in March 2025.
What Joyce Carol Oates Can Teach Us About Writing Like a Human
Here are a few lines from JCO that I found were particularly beautiful or characteristic of a human writer’s touch:
“An abrupt loathing of the ocean itself swept over Cassidy, the very sight, smell.”
Here we begin with a formal clause, which Oates pulls with the sensations of sight and smell. But notice how she does it.
JCO here is using asyndeton: the omission of connectors like and or or or but. It creates immediacy. But in AI writing, asyndeton tends to be over-applied and underthought. Oates uses it with deliberate control.
Here’s another:
“Scrolling through e-mails. Or Instagram, TikTok.”
This is a masterclass in syncopated rhythm. First, a neutral task—“e-mails.” Then, a downward spiral into distraction. “Instagram, TikTok.” The structure reflects the mental slippage. The asyndeton works because of the psychological progression.
Or take this:
“Also, ‘mistress’ is a comical word. Outdated, quaint.”
Here, Oates takes what could’ve been a flat adjective string and fractures it across two sentences. “Outdated, quaint” could have easily been part of the first sentence. But she withholds them, expressing the rule of three in a creative and disjointed way, like a jazz musician playing with the harmonics of a melody.
Here is a variation on this theme, one of my absolute favorites from the story:
“Planning an outing together, slipping away on a weekday, spontaneous, brazen: cool.”
Note the colon. It violates the typical rhythm of a rule-of-three structure and replaces the expected climax with a single, sly judgment: “cool.” The sentence mirrors spontaneity in its form as well as its content.
Finally:
“Squid ink released in the water to blind, confound predators.”
AI can imitate these patterns. It can learn to avoid conjunctions. But it rarely captures the subtleties—the way Oates wields punctuation to suggest a mood or echo the instability of the characters she writes.
The Em Dash Isn’t the Problem
Some students avoid the em dash because they’ve heard it’s a red flag—one more telltale sign of AI-generated writing.
But again, it’s not the mark itself. It’s how you use it.
Joyce Carol Oates uses em dashes constantly—often within the same sentence, sometimes twice or more. Clearly, JCO didn’t receive the em dash memo.
Per JCO, we shouldn’t refrain from using the em dash. However, we should know why it’s there.
Also: take the time to learn the difference between em dashes (—), en dashes (–), and hyphens (-). It won’t just make your writing cleaner. It will make you sound like someone who actually cares about the tools of the trade.
What AI Can’t Do
AI can give you structure. But it rarely gives you friction. It doesn’t surprise. It doesn’t second-guess. It doesn’t contradict itself in a way that feels human.
It doesn’t pause in the middle of a line because you’re not sure how you feel. It doesn’t riff, spiral, meander. It doesn’t know how to say something wrong just right.
That’s your job.
If you’re going to use AI, use it like scaffolding. Then take it apart, beam by beam, and build something of your own.
And if you want help with that—if you want to elevate your writing beyond the formula and find what’s true in your voice—I can help.
