That Book You Read on the TTC and Couldn’t Shake for Days? Yeah… Some of It Was AI

You know the moment. You’re packed into Line 2, headphones on, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, but your nose is buried in this book that’s doing something to your chest. You read a line and pause. It hits. Like it knows something about you you haven’t said out loud. You dog-ear the page, close the book when your stop comes, and carry that sentence around the rest of the day like a secret.

And then someone tells you a chunk of that book was written using AI.

I know. Same. But here’s the thing—it’s happening. Quietly. In cafes across Queen West, condos in Liberty Village, libraries in Scarborough, basements in Etobicoke. AI-written books are landing in our laps, and most of us don’t even flinch.

Toronto Writers Are Just Trying to Survive the Hustle

Writing a book in this city? Ha. Between rent, commutes, side gigs, and never-ending construction noise, it’s a miracle we even have brain cells left to form coherent sentences. But somehow, people still do it—still try. They carve out time between bartending shifts or daycare pickups. They write in the Notes app during streetcar rides. They scribble down half-sentences in journals while waiting for laundry.

And that’s where AI tools like ChatGPT, Claude, or Sudowrite slide in—not as a threat, but as relief.

I know a guy in Parkdale who said, “It’s like having a second pair of hands when mine are too tired to type.” That line stuck with me. Because that’s the energy in this city: tired, but still going.

People Are Cautious. And Rightfully So.

This is a city with edge and depth. With stories that are earned, not manufactured. So yeah, when people hear about AI in publishing, there’s some pushback. Some “that’s not real writing” energy. Some eye-rolls and some “of course tech bros are ruining books now” muttering.

But in quieter corners, there’s something else happening—curiosity. A shrug of if it helps me tell my truth, who cares how I got there? And honestly? That kind of honesty is so Toronto it hurts.

AI Doesn’t Know the Struggle—But It Can Help Shape the Words

Let’s be clear. AI doesn’t know what it’s like to grow up in Rexdale or to fall in love during Nuit Blanche. It doesn’t know the ache of missing someone across snowbanks or the way the city hums at 3 a.m. But it can help shape the stuff you already know. It can turn a mess of half-formed thoughts into something you can finally show someone.

And when it works—really works? You can feel it.

How Toronto Writers Are Actually Using AI

It’s not glamorous. No one’s sipping oat milk lattes and feeding prompts like they’re literary royalty. Most writers I know use AI because they’re exhausted and overwhelmed. Here’s how:

• Plotting out a messy idea that’s been stuck for months
• Polishing dialogue that sounds too stiff
• Getting through writer’s block that feels like cement
• Cleaning up drafts for self-publishing with AI
• Testing out endings to figure out what feels the most honest

It’s not about replacing the soul. It’s about finishing the damn thing.

So Is It Still Your Story?

That question gets asked a lot. Especially here. In a city where identity is layered and messy and beautiful. Where stories are rooted in language, loss, resilience.

And the answer?

If the story came from your life, your pain, your weird little brain—then yes. It’s yours. No matter how many tools you used to help shape it. AI didn’t live it. You did. AI didn’t cry while writing it. You did. That counts. That matters.

Toronto Has Always Been a City of Stories

We’re a city of first drafts written in laundromats. Of novels whispered into phones during 3 a.m. streetcar rides. Of poetry scrawled between shifts. Our stories don’t ask permission. They just show up—complicated and real and full of that quiet electricity that only Toronto knows how to hold.

So maybe AI’s part of that now. Maybe it’s not the enemy. Maybe it’s just a new pencil in the drawer.

Then honestly, I’m for it. Because Toronto doesn’t stop. And neither do our stories.