Part 6 – The Danger of Outsourcing Judgment
This is Part 6 of a series by B.A. Bellec on using AI to edit his novel Cobalt Lungs. Start with the [Series Introduction].
Why the writer has to stay the final authority. B.A. Bellec on the danger of letting AI make the calls that judgment should.

This is not an AI lesson. This is a creator lesson applied to AI.
This article was going to start with “GPT sometimes gives bad feedback.” That’s too small. That’s not the lesson. The lesson is that the creator must remain the final authority. That’s true whether the feedback comes from GPT, an editor, a beta reader, a writing group, a spouse, or reviews.
Early in the project, I noticed GPT sometimes overstated the quality of the work. AI will sometimes present information with more confidence than it deserves. I didn’t bring it up yet in these articles because I wanted people to better understand my process before I showed them this, as it is a very advanced analytical skill. When I started thinking about this problem deeper, I realized it is not really a flaw in GPT. It is far more complex than that. Humans do this, too, all the time.
AI often tries to be helpful, encouraging, and cooperative. Not necessarily dishonest, but agreeable. If you ask whether an idea works, there is a decent chance AI will spend more time explaining why it works than why it fails. People are just as guilty of doing this same thing. Most people naturally soften criticism, especially when they are trying to be helpful or encouraging, or maybe it’s the prospect of more work together in the future. There are lots of different reasons, but this is where experience matters. I caught several moments where GPT was giving me more credit than I felt I deserved. The manuscript was improving, but it wasn’t as polished as some of the feedback implied. I knew it, and I didn’t view this as malicious. If anything, it reminded me of feedback I have received from beta readers, editors, coworkers, and friends during preproduction on my prior novels. People often lead with encouragement before criticism or give you five good things and then a single bad thing.
The danger is that an inexperienced creator may mistake encouragement for validation. They are not the same thing. One of the most valuable skills I brought into this project was the ability to challenge the feedback. Experience allowed me to separate signal from noise. I rarely accept praise at face value. I immediately stress-test it in my mind. If GPT told me something was working, I still asked why, which is something I did with my editors, too. If it told me a chapter was strong, I looked for weaknesses anyway. A beta reader who knows you personally may soften criticism. An editor may lead with strengths before weaknesses. A spouse may tell you a scene works because they know how much effort you put into it. People constantly adjust feedback based on social context. AI does something similar, although for different reasons.
An experienced creator hears: “This is strong,” and thinks: “Okay, but what’s wrong with it?”
An inexperienced creator hears: “This is strong,” and thinks: “I’m done.”
That’s not an AI problem. That’s a judgment problem. It’s the same reason a new employee, a new investor, or a first-time author can misinterpret feedback. They don’t yet have the experience to separate encouragement, praise, validation, and actual completion. AI can help you identify problems, but it can also make you feel comfortable too early. Sometimes the most important question is not “What is working?” but rather “What am I still missing?”
ChatGPT probably told me Cobalt Lungs was in good shape dozens of times, and dozens of times I came back with big questions to tighten characters, fix the bloating page count, improve callbacks, rewrite scenes I thought I had already finished, adjust pacing, change and grow motifs, and cut lines. I never treated positive feedback as a stopping point. Feedback is always just a checkpoint, regardless of where it comes from. That’s a subtle but huge distinction. A lot of people use AI to look for permission. I used AI looking for pressure. That’s a completely different mindset. I would almost immediately toss aside the good feedback and focus on the negatives, and if there were no negatives, I would find them myself.
AI can accelerate your process, but it cannot replace your standards. That’s the job of the creator. AI users, non-AI users, writers, musicians, artists, entrepreneurs. Everyone receives feedback. Everyone must decide what to do with it. Never outsource your standards. It is your project. Your name. You set the bar.
Read the Full Series: AI and the Indie Author
Series Introduction
Part 1 – The Moral and Legal Grey Area
Part 2 – Before You Begin: KSA – Knowledge, Skills, and Abilities
Part 3 – Building the Bones: Brainstorming and 1st Drafts
Part 4 – AI’s Greatest Weaknesses
Part 5 – Refining Your Ideas: Moving to 2nd Draft
Part 6 – The Danger of Outsourcing Judgment
Part 7 – The Revision Process: Modulation
Part 8 – Building a Marketing Ecosystem
Part 9 – The Parts AI Could Never Write
Part 10 – Looking Back: Ethics, Creativity, and the Future
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
B.A. Bellec is an award-winning Canadian novelist, songwriter, and music video producer whose work blends cinematic storytelling, emotional atmosphere, and deeply human science fiction. Drawing from an education in film and a multidisciplinary creative process that merges music, prose, and visual symbolism, his stories explore themes of survival, memory, grief, identity, and the search for meaning inside collapsing systems.
Known for emotionally immersive worlds, recurring symbolic imagery, and a style that balances intimate character work with large-scale thematic ambition, Bellec creates stories that feel less like traditional narratives and more like lived emotional experiences. His current project, Cobalt Lungs, expands beyond the page into a companion concept album, combining literary fiction, atmospheric worldbuilding, and music into a unified creative universe.
COBALT LUNGS
Station Eleven meets The Road with the psychological containment and systems tension of Silo.
A deadly airborne spore has transformed the world into a collapsing maze of quarantines, sealed cities, and desperate survivors struggling to adapt. In the ruins of Vancouver, musician Maddy fights to hold onto her humanity inside an overcrowded refugee shelter while scientist Ethan isolates himself nearby, deep underground in a self-sustaining silo where routine has replaced emotion. As society fractures and survival becomes increasingly brutal, the two are pulled toward each other in ways neither of them fully understands. Atmospheric, intimate, and emotionally charged, Cobalt Lungs is a post-apocalyptic story about isolation, survival, and the dangerous hope that can still burn at the end of the world.



