Why Intentional Storytelling Matters in an Era of AI and Algorithm-Driven Content

These days, it’s easier than ever to write stories that look like stories. I’m talking about stories follow beat sheets, mimic bestselling formulas, and say all the “right” things. But more and more, I see authors tempted to make creative choices based on convenience rather than imagination or integrity. When that happens, we have to ask: are we saying anything real?

Intentional storytelling—the kind that grows from a writer’s unique vision and voice—is at risk of being quietly drowned out by franchise formulas, AI-generated content, and the pressure to produce faster than ever. If you’ve ever felt like you’re just going through the motions instead of creating something that truly matters, you’re not alone. Let’s explore what’s being lost, and what we can reclaim.

What Intentional Storytelling Is Not: Avoiding Formula and Empty Content

How Modern Media Incentivizes Unintentional Choices

These days, I think most people are at least somewhat dissatisfied with the general scope of popular media, particularly movies and TV. Of course, there are stellar exceptions and of course older generations (of which I am suddenly shocked to find I am one!) tend to look back on previous eras of entertainment with no small gloss of nostalgia. But for the past decade, I have looked out onto the entertainment landscape and been increasingly dissatisfied, on a personal level, with what I’m seeing. Although multiple factors play into this (including nothing more than my own evolving perspectives and tastes), I feel the growing trend and temptation away from intentionality is one of the prime culprits.

This is a trend that affects far more than just storytelling. Despite its many benefits—and perhaps its inevitability—the rise of automation, driven by the ever-accelerating pace of life, presents storytellers with ever-growing temptations to take shortcuts. We’ve now reached the point where the most obvious example is the ability to simply have AI write a whole book for you based on nothing more than a premise. But, really, this is just an extreme example at the end of a long line of such shortcuts.

In the interest of identifying what intentional storytelling is, let’s first examine what it is not.

Why “Just Following the Formula” Falls Short

Intentional Storytelling Is Not:

Copy/Paste Beat Sheets – Using structure as a paint-by-numbers formula rather than a flexible framework guided by theme and character. (This is not to say such beat sheets can’t be used for inspiration or troubleshooting, but by themselves, they’re dead forms.)

Formulaic Structures – Plugging characters into a pre-set pattern that forces them to act according to the plot rather than allowing plot to emerge organically from character development.

Soulless On-Demand Content – Prioritizing speed and quantity over resonance, originality, or emotional depth.

Writing to “What Sells” – Chasing trends instead of exploring your unique and authentic voice, interests, and truths.

Fan Service-Driven Plotting – Shaping stories purely to provoke views, applause, or box office returns, at the cost of coherence or meaning.

AI-Generated Brainstorming Replacements – Outsourcing vision, subtext, and originality, especially early in the creative process.

Template-Tweaked Tropes – Recycling familiar stereotypes or plot devices without interrogating their deeper archetypal relevance and resonance.

Focus-Grouped Characters or Themes – Designing stories to appeal broadly instead of deeply.

Although I hope the examples in this list are self-evident, they are also quite general. There will always be instances when some or even all of these things add desirable aspects to a story or offer an author guidance or assistance. However, taken by themselves or without calibration, they all point to the two deepest markers of unintentional writing.

Quite simply, unintentional storytelling is either lazy or fearful.

In the one case, the writer is “filling in the story’s blanks” in some way that fobs off the responsibility of making choices or discovering originality, thus eliminating the need to dig into the depths of one’s own truths. In the other, the writer may be fearful that not following certain trends or using certain tools may endanger relevance and, in some cases, livelihood.

Tools vs. Crutches: Knowing the Difference

This is not to say most of these tools can’t be used to simplify the storytelling process or to help the professional author keep up with the demands of the market. For example, structural beat sheets can be a tremendous learning tool. Producing content and writing “what sells” is, at least to some degree, just part of the devil’s bargain of profitable art. Writing tropes is, to some extent, unavoidable.

It’s less important that examples such as these be avoided altogether and much more important that they be used with intention. To the degree any tool or opportunity is used without intention, it risks weakening the whole. This has always been true for writers, even of something so small as unintentional word choices. But as the ability to craft whole stories with much greater speed and ease becomes more accessible and, frankly, more tempting, it is vital for authors to maintain artistic integrity in every choice they make for their stories—from the words to the tools to the characters to the plot.

What Is Intentional Storytelling? Defining Purposeful, Authentic Narrative Craft

At its simplest, intentional storytelling is paying attention to everything. It is about becoming aware of every choice you are making for your story—from plot, theme, and characters to the color of your protagonist’s dress or the name of her dog. It’s about choosing narrators on purpose and for a reason. It’s about vetting settings. It’s about honing word choice to perfection.

Why? Some of those things—like plot and theme—obviously matter, since they are your story. But why does something as inconsequential as a color or a random setting really matter?

What Makes Details Matter: Cohesion and Resonance

They matter for two reasons: cohesion and resonance.

Cohesion is about ensuring every piece of a story is part of a greater unified whole.
Resonance is about the effect of that whole: how every small piece sings together to create an effect bigger than itself—a note of magic that resonates to the audience as a feeling, a sense, something supra-linguistic communicated beyond words or images.

How Subtext Reflects the Integrity of a Story

Ultimately, what we’re talking about is the creation of subtext. Stories are subtext. The stories that truly work—the stories that stay with you long after you finish them—are stories in which the subtext worked. And the subtext only works when the context is contrived of intentional choices.

It’s important not to confuse “intentional” with “conscious.” Although consciousness always brings intention, intention exists beyond consciousness. Although we often speak of brainstorming stories, stories are always first and foremost an act of dreaming—an act of the subconscious, the imaginal self, the symbolic mind.

What AI Can’t Do for You (Unless You Know Yourself First)

When it comes to AI, the subject is certainly complex. As someone who makes a living from creative work, I understand firsthand why AI feels threatening. The landscape of my own livelihood has been impacted significantly these past few years, raising many anxieties about an unknown future. In the spirit of learning about something before forming opinions about it, this year I’ve been experimenting with it in many different ways, particularly looking into how it can help me on the business end of things (i.e., left-brain pursuits such as SEO, research, business brainstorming, and marketing copy) and have often found it helpful. However, my chief concern with its advent is that in relying on it for right-brain activities, it may easily interrupt our dreaming selves and, indeed, do too much of our dreaming for us.

To know the difference requires, first, a keen attention to one’s own imaginal workings and, second, a perhaps even keener attention on the intention of the choices we make for our stories, the origins of those choices, and above all their resonance with ourselves—or what I have always called our “story sense.” This is that deep and true part of ourselves—intuition, sixth sense, gut feeling, subconscious—that knows when something is ours or not—when something is true for us or not.

As you seek intentional storytelling, you can move beyond vigilance and awareness to a deeper intimacy with your own personal truths and symbols. Although left-brained, logic-based brainstorming remains a helpful process for most of us, it cannot replace the right-brained raw creativity of simply imagining. I use a process called dreamzoning to intentionally shut off my logical brain and go deep into my imagination. I’ve rather come to feel that this act of dreamzoning is one of the most subversive approaches an author can take in these times. (Although I offer guided meditations to help with this process, you need nothing more than a little time alone to stare into space.)

Archetypal Character Guided Meditations

Ultimately, storytelling with intention is nothing more than storytelling with honesty, integrity, discipline, and bravery. It begins when we first look deeply into ourselves and write with honesty what is there—no matter how unformed, ill-formed, frighteningly personal, vulnerable, or imperfect—rather than simply mirroring back what we see in others’ stories.

We follow that with the integrity—the wholeness, the cohesion—of making choices that align with those depths, with what feels right for us, with what serves to produce a story that has its own integrity, its own wholeness.

Then comes the discipline of staying with it, even when it’s hard, even when it seems there must be an easier way, a more fun way, a more profitable way, a less scary way. Staying in service to our own integrity is the surest path to any of these things. But even when it seems anything but, we must keep asking the questions that tell if we are indeed staying true to ourselves, our visions, and our stories—not our egos’ stories, but our deepest stories.

And then we face it all with courage—because there is no other way. Storytelling—real, true storytelling (okay, honestly some fake storytelling too) is the most frightening thing in the world. To write with truth requires the incredible vulnerability of feeling deeply into our most primordial selves. To then write well requires the supreme and often painful effort of teaching our brains new pathways, organizing our unruly and chthonic dreams into the straight line of language and communication.

If we fail from time to time in our intentionality with every piece and moment of our stories, it is little wonder. In the end, the only thing that matters is that we keep coming back to the deepest and most honest parts of what we are trying to create and share.

Why Intentional Storytelling Matters More Than Ever in an AI-Driven Content World

Intentional storytelling has always mattered. But I write this post now because I feel it is more important than ever. Storytelling is the soul of culture, and perhaps as writers some of us have lost our souls a bit lately. The demands of content creation can make it easy to lose touch with the inner muse. Tools like AI can make this slide even more tempting. However, any assistance automated tools render us (in any aspect of life) can rob us of intentionality only insofar as we are out of touch with our own deep knowing and imagining.

How the Creative Landscape Is Changing

Many authors these days are asking themselves the hard questions. As the landscape of the artistic world—to say nothing of the world at large—changes so dizzyingly around us, it becomes ever more important for us to ask these questions. All humans are innately storytellers. But those of us who purport to shape and share our stories through the life-changing portals that are books and movies—perhaps bear a somewhat greater responsibility.

This is not a challenge to step away from the workings of modern life, but rather a challenge to experiment with every moment, to test and try and see and respond—to evolve when evolution is the truest and to stand fast when standing is truest—to allow ourselves the spontenaiety of each moment rather than the dogma of easy answers or quick fixes.

Why the Story Still Starts With You

Intentionality is not, nor ever will be, the easiest path for writers to take. But, truly, storytelling was never meant to be easy. As writers, it is our special sleight of hand that allows us to open portals into the depths of life under the guise of adventure and romance and mystery. There’s no such thing as “just” a story. That’s the trick. That’s the magic. But it only works when we, as storytellers and magicians, are in deep service to the integrity of the story itself.

Two Questions to Guide Every Writing Decision

All you have to do is keep asking yourself these two questions:

Why? Why did I make this choice? Why did I put this in my story? Is it the easiest answer—or is it deep and true?
How can I go deeper? How can I write something that is more honest, more real, more of my dreaming self?

However you answer those questions—whether with certainty or with more questions—they are the beginning of a deeper relationship with your craft. Intentional storytelling isn’t a destination; it’s a continual practice of listening inward, trusting your creative instincts, and honoring the story that wants to be told through you. The path may not always be easy, but it is always worth walking one meaningful, intentional choice at a time.

In Summary

Intentional storytelling isn’t about rejecting tools or structure. It’s about using them with awareness, discernment, and, above all, honesty. In a time when it’s never been easier to churn out content that looks like a story, the real work of writing lies in remembering why we create in the first place. Every story worth telling begins not with trends or formulae, but with the deep, sometimes uncomfortable truths we carry inside ourselves.

To write with intention is to choose meaning over ease, depth over noise, and wholeness over quick results. It’s an act of quiet rebellion in a culture of speed and automation. We honor the sacred nature of story by treating it, not as a product to be packaged, but as a portal to something true, resonant, and lasting.

Key Takeaways on Intentional Storytelling:

Intentional storytelling means making every creative choice with honesty, integrity, discipline, and courage.
Tools like beat sheets and AI must be used with discernment and integrity.
The rise of algorithm-driven content makes it more important than ever to return to the source: your own imagination, values, and story sense.
Asking “Why?” and “How can I go deeper?” can reconnect you to authentic, resonant storytelling.

Want More?

If you’re feeling the pull to reconnect with your deeper creative self—to get out of your head and back into your story’s heart—my Archetypal Character Guided Meditations can help. I designed these immersive sessions to support you in finding the “dreamzone”: that quiet, intentional space where imagination flows freely, unshaped by algorithms or outside noise. In these times when technology offers us faster answers, my idea is for these meditations offer a return to deep, slow creativity. You can find them in my shop!

Go on the journey with your characters! Check out the Archetypal Character Guided Meditations.

Wordplayers, tell me your opinions! What does intentional storytelling mean to you—and where in your own writing process do you sometimes feel most tempted to trade depth for ease? Tell me in the comments!

Click the “Play” button to Listen to Audio Version (or subscribe to the Helping Writers Become Authors podcast in Apple Podcast, Amazon Music, or Spotify).

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Author: K.M. Weiland | @KMWeiland

Date:

July 7, 2025