No place for shrinking violets
Ken Grace, Director of Department of Writing, speaks about why being a great bid writer is no longer enough.
I was talking with a business contact the other day whose team is using AI more and more as an aid to creating important reports for their clients.
He’s long been an advocate of developing his people’s writing skills. What makes him unusual is that, despite all that AI can do, he regards such development as more important than ever.
Why? Because with the rise of AI, he’s seeing something new. People are outsourcing not only the writing function, but a good part of the thinking function too.
That seems inevitable to me. Most people who write for a living learned long ago that writing and thinking are linked activities. We need to write in order to discover what we think. Or, if not to discover, at least to test and refine our thinking.
It got me thinking about AI and our profession. I doubt there’s a bid writer who doesn’t use AI in some capacity, and – equally – I doubt there’s a bid writer who doesn’t feel at least mildly threatened by what it can do.
Organisations are also moving from cautious adoption to planned integration across the whole bid lifecycle. Not all, and not all at the same pace, but the trend is clear.
For good reason. To quote Leonie Thomas, Chair of the APMP UK Bid Writing Focus Group, “AI can now analyse tender documents, extract requirements, recommend structure, generate compliant drafts, and check alignment against evaluation criteria.”
She goes on to say – accurately, in my view – that AI is nonetheless limited. For example, it can’t “decide what matters most, what is credible or what is strategically risky”.
On the face of it, that’s a comforting statement, isn’t it? It means that at least for now, bid writers are still needed to do the real thinking, impressive as AI might be at the donkey work.
But I don’t think it’s comforting at all. If anything, it puts a spotlight on our work, inviting those who pay our bills to ask what value we’re providing that AI doesn’t. If an inexpensive piece of software can turn out a compliant bid response, you’d naturally want to know what a far more expensive piece of hardware called a bid writer is providing beyond the merely compliant.
Of course, the best writers have always gone well beyond compliance, and quality writers abound in our profession. So here’s another question: given that bid writing is a collaborative process that includes subject matter experts, bid strategists, bid planners and others, how obvious is it to those who pay our bills that the value beyond mere compliance isn’t being generated by someone in the team who’s not the actual bid writer?
The entrepreneurs among us will see an opportunity here. Whenever rapid change occurs, doors open as others close. Those who are good writers, smart thinkers, and strong self-promoters will make it obvious that their skills are as critical as ever.
That’s not to say anyone should be complacent. However, I think there are two types of writer who will need to adjust more than most. The first are the quiet achievers. If the culture questions the real value of writing skills, if writing is being viewed as something of a commodity, being quiet about what you bring to the table is an invitation to be dismissed as no longer essential. Simply being a writer, no matter how capable and no matter how varied your skills, may not be enough. You also need to be your own greatest advocate.
The second is those whose thinking skills are limited. By this, I don’t mean those who struggle to keep up during strategic discussions, of whom I expect there are few, if any, in our profession. I mean those who do have something to contribute but for whatever reason tend to hang back. Shyness, deference and second guessing oneself are all recipes for disappearing into the shadows and becoming irrelevant.
The future belongs to writers who can think well, share their thoughts in public forums, challenge ideas while also taking robust (and public) criticism, articulate agreed-upon ideas and approaches in ways that are clear, simple and compelling, and speak articulately – and loudly – of the difference they make.
I don’t underestimate what that takes. While a lucky few are naturally gifted in those areas, writers – at least in my experience – tend to be a little introverted, modest, and more likely to be drawn to observation than the rough and tumble of animated debate.
That’s never been enough for full-blown success. With the rise of AI and its ability to perform many of our most basic tasks quickly, cheaply and effectively, it’s now an impediment.
AI is not our enemy, but neither is it a friend. It is an emotionless machine, indifferent to its impact on anyone or anything. The onus is on us, then, to ensure we’re equipped to deliver obvious value in a world where AI is inching its way closer and closer to centre stage.