QuillBot’s Lie: My Ink’s No AI Pawn

Algorithms Can’t Claim My Ink: QuillBot’s False Flag on My Poetic Soul

QuillBot’s AI detector dared call my ink “AI refined,” slandering 15 years of poetic craft with a lie that stings deeper than any critic’s pen. One sentence, born from my heart — “You attacked me, ripped open my chest, shat on my heart, and drove in a stake with your unwarranted, extremely loud, and obnoxious foul language” — was branded as algorithm-touched. Worse, it flagged gibberish I typed with eyes closed, a chaotic string of nonsense like “fgljfaglagr,fspog;..sspojsfjsgkljsfv.” This isn’t just my fight; it’s every writer’s fight. QuillBot’s failure exposes a threat to our craft: AI detectors that misjudge our souls, are demanding we dilute our voices to appease their flaws. I’ve got proof — seven detectors that vindicate my ink — and a demand: we must reject these AI tools and fight for authenticity.

As a Word Thief,

Thief of Words   (13+) If you want to know me, here’s the open door. Read this Poetic Memoir. #2339668 by Noisy Wren

I am constantly policing my descriptive writing to try and not have AI detectors flag me for phrases I have collected (stolen), over a lifetime of dreams of becoming a writer, from humans and the machines. After learning that QuillBot is a detector that some here on Writing.com use to test work before agreeing to review our work, I decided to devise a test for QuillBot to prove my suspicions about that particular tool. The test was a simple one, born of my frustrations. I wrote that sentence in Apple Pages, raw and unassisted, a fragment of a personal letter forged in the crucible of my 15-year journey. To test QuillBot’s gall, I paired it with some gibberish, random keystrokes no AI could dream of crafting. Yet QuillBot’s verdict was “Human written but AI refined,” a patently false claim that insults every poet who’s ever bled for their words. No metadata tainted my plain text — no tags, no markers — just my ink and blind nonsense. QuillBot’s algorithm, blind to creativity, saw patterns where only chaos and my soul existed.


I didn’t stop there. I ran the same text through seven trusted AI detectors, and their results expose QuillBot’s lie:

GPTZero: 94% human-written, gibberish unclassifiable as non-text.

Copyleaks: 99% human-written, gibberish rejected as incoherent.

Scribbr: 92% human-written, gibberish ignored as non-linguistic.

Grammarly: 100% human, gibberish skipped as nonsense.

Sapling: 91% human-written, gibberish flagged as non-text.

Undetectable AI: 95% human-written, gibberish non-analyzable.

Originality.ai: 97% human-written, gibberish invalid for analysis.


These detectors, battle-tested in academia and publishing, all saw my sentence for what it is: human, vivid, and mine. They saw the gibberish for what it isn’t: text, let alone AI-touched. QuillBot stands alone, an outlier with a broken algorithm that misreads poetry’s pulse and chaos’s void. Its error isn’t technical — it’s existential, a failure to grasp the human spark that drives our craft.

This isn’t about one poet’s pride; it’s about our collective soul. AI detectors, meant to catch soulless algorithms, now threaten the very creativity they claim to protect. My sentence, with its raw imagery, echoes the poetry we pour onto Writing.Com — work that defies formulas, work that bleeds life, and soul. Yet QuillBot’s lens, clouded by overzealous code, sees only patterns, not passion. It flagged gibberish, for God’s sake — random keystrokes no AI would mimic. If it can’t distinguish nonsense from art, how can it judge our sonnets, our stories, our screams, the blood of our dreams? These tools risk forcing us to dull our edges, to write safer, to sound less human, just to pass their tests. I refuse. My ink drips truth, and I’ll not dilute it for a machine.

Writers, this is our stand. QuillBot’s failure is a warning: AI detectors can betray us, but we can fight back. Test your work across many tools — GPTZero, Copyleaks, Scribbr, and more proved my truth. Save your drafts, timestamp your soul, and let no algorithm question your authenticity. Demand better from companies like QuillBot, whose errors slander our craft. Share your stories on Writing.Com, where our voices thrive, unbowed. My sentence, my gibberish, my 15 years — they’re mine, not AI’s. Your words are yours, too.

I’ve sent QuillBot a demand for answers, armed with seven detectors’ verdicts. But this editorial isn’t just a complaint; it’s a call to arms. We writers are poets, novelists, and dreamers — not data points for algorithms to misjudge. Let’s flood these pages with our ink, untamed and unafraid. Let’s prove that no detector can claim what we’ve earned. My heart’s still staked, but my magnesium pen’s still sharp. What’s yours?