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I’ve been thinking a lot lately about voice. Not just brand voice or writing style, but the actual sound of a human being behind the words.

A few years ago, if you wanted something written, you hired a writer. Now, many simply open a browser tab and type a prompt.

I say that as someone who has built a career writing. I started in comedy, selling jokes from my dorm room and doing stand-up in rooms where the audience was mostly other comedians waiting for their turn. I moved into screenwriting and speechwriting, then advertising and brand strategy. Over the past fifteen years I’ve worked with consumer brands, B2B companies, public figures, athletes, entertainers, production studios, and Fortune 50 executives.

Today, as founder of Campfire, I spend most of my time helping leaders clarify their positioning and tell clearer stories about what they’re building.

I’ve spent my adult life thinking about voice. Sometimes professionally, sometimes obsessively, sometimes while rewriting jokes at 2 a.m.

And lately I’ve noticed something that goes beyond business.

We’re outsourcing it.

Not because we’re lazy. Because we’re busy.

AI tools are fast, helpful, and often very good. They can draft a memo, outline a speech, generate website copy, and clean up your thinking in seconds. For anyone juggling work, family, and roughly 47 browser tabs, that feels like relief.

But here’s the tradeoff. The more we rely on generated language, the more we start to sound the same.

In comedy, if your voice isn’t distinct, you disappear. You can have perfect structure and still lose the room. If your script lacks a point of view, it gets passed on. Specificity is what people remember. Perspective is what earns attention. No one connects emotionally to a template.

That principle isn’t limited to stage or screen. It applies to how we show up at work, online, and in public life. When our language becomes interchangeable, something more subtle gets lost. It becomes harder to tell what someone actually believes. Harder to sense conviction. Harder to know who we’re really hearing from.

I’ve sat with founders who built meaningful companies and raised real capital. Their products were strong. Their teams were sharp. Still, their messaging could have been swapped with three competitors and no one would notice. The language was polished and technically correct. It was also interchangeable.

That’s not just a branding issue. It’s a cultural one.

When voice becomes generic, identity starts to blur. Judgment feels harder to read. Convictions soften around the edges. We blend into the feed.

The most valuable work I do has very little to do with word choice. It starts with clarity. What do you actually believe? What are you willing to say publicly? What tradeoffs are you comfortable making? Where are you different, even if that difference narrows your audience?

In comedy writing, trying to appeal to everyone is the fastest way to lose everyone. The same principle applies far beyond entertainment. Clarity can feel risky. Vague language feels safe. Safe language is forgettable.

There’s urgency here. AI has flattened access to competent writing. When everyone can produce polished language instantly, the real differentiation shifts elsewhere. It shifts to taste, conviction, lived experience, and human voice, imperfections included.

Those qualities cannot be automated. Part of the confusion right now is that access to a tool can feel like mastery of a craft. A camera doesn’t automatically make someone a photographer. A prompt doesn’t automatically make someone a writer. Tools can support craft. They don’t replace judgment and skill.

At some level, this is really about trust. It’s about how we relate to each other in a world where so much of what we read may not come directly from someone’s lived experience.

When language becomes easy, we have to work harder to signal that there’s a real human behind it.

If you’re committed to using AI in your workflow, use it to support your thinking, not replace it. And never publish something you wouldn’t say out loud in a room full of people who know you well. That simple test reveals more than most prompts ever will.

Years ago, after a rough set, a veteran comic pulled me aside and said, “Stop trying to sound impressive. Just sound like yourself.”

That advice has aged well.

The people who stand out won’t be the ones who generate the most content. They’ll be the ones who remain clear about who they are and what they believe.

Your voice should be the last thing you outsource. It’s where your beliefs, values, and personality live.

Polish is easy now. Being real takes work.

And in a world flooded with polished language, that might become the most valuable advantage any of us have.

. . .

Jon Savitt is a comedy writer and messaging strategist based in Minnesota. His work has appeared in The New York Times, Vulture, Funny or Die, The Washington Post, and USA Today. He is the founder of Campfire, a storytelling and positioning studio.