I recently listened to a conversation between David Perell and Sam Altman, and it left me rethinking not just how I use AI, but how I approach writing itself. The episode wasn't about productivity hacks or the mechanics of building companies. It was about something much simpler—and much harder: how writing shapes our thinking.
Writing as a Mirror for Thought
One thing that struck me was Altman's description of writing as "externalized thinking." He said that whenever he feels confused about a problem, he sits down and forces himself to write it out. That resonated deeply with me. I've often opened a blank document hoping words would flow, only to realize that the act of writing exposes the gaps in my own logic. It's not that writing makes things harder—it makes things honest.
Hearing someone like Altman, who leads one of the world's most influential AI companies, admit that he still relies on this old-fashioned practice reminded me that clarity of thought doesn't come from speed or technology. It comes from wrestling with ideas until they make sense—on the page, not just in the mind.
Learning from Paul Graham
What also stood out to me was how much Altman credits Paul Graham (PG), the legendary co-founder of Y Combinator, for shaping his own approach to writing. Like many others, Altman said he was drawn into the startup world by PG's essays. The clarity, precision, and density of those writings were unlike anything else—no wasted words, no posturing, just ideas stated plainly.
Inspired by that, Altman started his own blog years ago, not because he expected to become a great writer, but because he wanted to practice. He saw how powerful PG's writing was in guiding founders and attracting talent, and he wanted to learn that skill for himself. Even if writing was never going to be his "gift," he believed that with practice he could get better. And more importantly, he discovered that writing was valuable for him personally: a way to clarify his own thinking and explain decisions to his team.
That part hit home for me. It reminded me that writing is not about being "literary" or chasing perfect prose. It's about sharpening thought. PG's example shows what's possible at the highest level; Altman's example shows that even if you're not naturally gifted, writing is still worth practicing.
AI as a Partner, Not a Replacement
Another moment that stayed with me was when Altman described ChatGPT as a "sparring partner." He doesn't use it to churn out essays. Instead, he tests his ideas against it, looking for where the model pushes back. That's when he knows he might be onto something interesting.
I've started to do this myself. Sometimes I'll ask ChatGPT to offer counterarguments to my assumptions, or suggest examples I hadn't considered. It's humbling, because it reveals blind spots in my thinking. But it's also energizing. Instead of fearing that AI will replace me as a writer, I'm learning to see it as a collaborator who expands the creative process rather than shortcuts it.
The Discipline of Clarity
Altman also spoke about how his internal planning documents at OpenAI have evolved—from sprawling 25-page essays to half-page memos. The trend isn't toward more detail, but toward sharper focus. That's a discipline I want to practice more intentionally: to strip my writing down until only the essence remains.
I've noticed that when I manage to do this, the writing feels more alive. It's not about the number of words—it's about whether the words reveal something true. And in an age where AI can generate paragraphs in seconds, perhaps the most human thing a writer can do is cut ruthlessly until only the core idea remains.
What I'm Taking Forward
After listening to the conversation, I left with both reassurance and challenge. Reassurance that writing still matters, even in an AI world. Challenge in realizing that the responsibility of choosing the right ideas—the ones worth amplifying—rests on me.
Altman reminded me that writing isn't just a way to communicate with others. It's a way to think more clearly, to uncover fragile but powerful ideas, and to decide what truly matters. AI may help me polish the sentences or brainstorm directions, but the deeper work—the act of choosing, clarifying, and believing in an idea—remains mine.
And maybe that's the future of writing with AI: less about generating words, more about discovering the ideas that are worth writing down in the first place.
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What's your relationship with writing in the age of AI? Have you found ways to use AI as a thinking partner rather than just a writing tool? I'd love to hear about your experiences and insights.