40 AI Writing Phrases to Avoid (and What to Use Instead)

I read manuscripts for a living, and I can now spot a machine-drafted chapter in about a paragraph.

AI is good at producing content and lousy at the thing that makes content worth reading, so it leans on the same small set of impressive-sounding phrases over and over. Words that used to mean something are now the tell. Who decided that sounding professional meant saying nothing? Readers dismiss anything that feels too polished or robotic, and they don’t give you a second paragraph to win them back. The skill worth building is catching these phrases before a reader does and swapping in words a person would say out loud.

What bothers me about these phrases is what they cost the writer.

A reader who hits three of them in one paragraph stops believing a person is talking, and after that even your good sentences get read with suspicion. One of these words on its own rarely gives you away. Stack several abstractions together and the passage reads like a machine reaching for professional-sounding filler. AI loves the word compelling. One use proves nothing, but when I see it again and again in somebody’s writing, they probably wrote it with AI.

Think of these phrases as packing peanuts. They fill space. They look like content. They protect you from the harder work of saying something specific, and that’s the only reason they’re there. Nobody wants them, and the moment a reader digs in expecting substance, all they find is Styrofoam. The fix throughout this list is the same: replace the packing peanuts with the real thing. Every vague phrase below has a concrete alternative, and the concrete version is always shorter, clearer, and unmistakably human.

I blame the writers who ship this more than the software. The machine does what it was built to do. The person who read the draft, saw “in today’s fast-paced world” in the opening line, and published it anyway made a choice about how much their reader’s time is worth.

What are the 40 phrases that make writing look AI-generated?

You’ve seen every one of these, and each looks harmless on its own. Stacked three to a paragraph they’re a signature, and I cut them out of client manuscripts every week. All those machine drafts rub off, too. I’ve picked up the em dash habit myself, and I’m going to have to drop it, because it’s annoying.

How deep does the problem with AI writing phrases go?

At the surface. Every phrase in the table above is a word-level problem, and word-level is the layer that’s easiest to see and easiest to fix. Swap the phrase, move on.

I don’t want anyone thinking a find-and-replace pass makes a book safe. Swapping the words is the easy part, and I’ve got no patience for tools and services that sell it as the whole cure, because the author who trusts them publishes a book that still reads hollow.

There are four layers below it. Sentences that all run the same shape. Paragraphs that arrive at the same rhythm. Scenes that resolve when they should complicate. And underneath all of it, the spine, where a machine picks the safe structure over the interesting one and no amount of editing reaches the decision.

A passage can contain none of these forty phrases and still read as machine-written, because the tells go deeper than vocabulary. I worked through all five layers in The Five Layers of AI Writing Tells, starting with the same territory this article covers in the word-level piece and descending to the spine, which is where the main problem is.

What is the pattern behind AI writing phrases?

Notice what they share: they’re vague, they sound impressive without saying anything specific, and they could apply to almost any situation. That’s why AI defaults to them.

A language model has no experiences to draw from, so it grabs language that sounds professional without committing to a single detail. The result glides along and says nothing at all.

I think leaning on these phrases is a quiet kind of disrespect. A reader picked up the book to learn something from somebody who knows it. Hand that reader “a rich tapestry of experiences” and you’ve spent their attention and given them nothing to keep.

Getting specific is the fix, and swapping one empty phrase for another fixes nothing. Don’t call something a trans​formative experience; say what changed. Don’t claim unprece​dented growth; give the numbers. Specifics come from lived experience, and machines don’t have any, so specificity is the most reliable line between human writing and bot output.

Being mistaken for AI isn’t going away. Knowing these phrases, and having a concrete replacement ready for each one, keeps your writing yours. You bring shading, emotion, and personality a model can’t fake, and that’s what separates you from the bots. The goal is to sound like a specific person who was there.

This connects to the wider problem of writing that reads as soulless, the fixes when your book sounds like AI, and knowing what AI is good at. The AI writing hub covers the rest, and if you want a book that uses AI the right way while the voice stays yours, that’s the work I do. Cut the packing peanuts. Ship the real thing.

I’m tired of reading books by smart people that sound like everyone else’s. Every one of those authors had something specific to say, and they let a pile of borrowed phrases talk over them. Take the phrases out and give readers the person they bought the book to hear from.

From the author

The Death of Thinking
Phrases like these show up when a writer stops doing the thinking. The Death of Thinking covers what outsourcing judgment costs and how the loss builds up one reasonable decision at a time.

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