Shennong Altar Scenic Area in the Shennongjia Forestry District, Hubei Province. Photo: TUCHONG

---

In the era of media convergence and artificial intelligence (AI), writers face both unprecedented challenges and new creative opportunities. The explosion of information and the emergence of novel tools have made writing resources more accessible than ever, expanding the possibilities for literary expression. At the same time, these developments have raised expectations for originality and distinctiveness in literary works. In the author’s view, the key to producing exceptional literature today lies in “deep immersion”—rooting literary creation in lived experience to gain an authentic understanding of the people, the times, and society at large.

“Deep immersion” entails profound engagement with history, reality, and everyday life. Information overload is a prominent characteristic of the era of media convergence. By immersing themselves in a particular field or community, writers are better equipped to sift through massive flows of information, maintain clarity of purpose, and chart a coherent creative path—rather than becoming overwhelmed by the deluge of content. With the rapid rise of AI, the need for this kind of immersion becomes even more urgent. After all, AI still cannot replicate the richness of human experience or the emotional depth that gives literature its power to move and connect.

Some writers have embedded themselves in rural communities, gaining firsthand experience of the hardships farmers endure, their sincerity and warmth, and their deep bond with the land. These encounters breathe vitality and emotional resonance into literary works. Others have traveled into remote ethnic minority regions, weaving local culture and folk traditions into their writing and developing a distinct literary voice. These are qualities that AI-generated content, at least for now, cannot easily replicate.

One such example is Chen Yingsong, a contemporary Chinese ecological writer known for his Shennongjia novel series, such as Stories from Shennongjia, Why the Jays Cry, The Leopard’s Last Dance, and The Forest Is Silent. In an essay, Chen reflected on the role of “deep immersion” in his own creative process. In 2000, he volunteered to serve temporarily in the Shennongjia Forestry District of Hubei Province, seeking to explore a new way of life. He turned down an office and regular working hours, dressed like the local mountain villagers, and spent his days wandering through the deep forests. At night, he stayed in village homes, sharing meals and conversations with the people he met. Much of the material for his Shennongjia series came directly from the stories they told him.

“Going to the countryside” in the Shennongjia Forestry District was no easy task. Chen often had to climb mountains and cross rivers multiple times in a single trip, braving physical hardship and even life-threatening danger. On one occasion in December, after heavy snow had sealed off the mountains, he spent hours navigating icy roads just to reach a remote village for an interview. Yet the effort proved worthwhile: he developed a deep familiarity with the region’s terrain and wildlife, as well as its customs and cultural history, accumulating a rich trove of literary material and ecological insight. Reflecting on the experience, Chen describes Shennongjia as “symbolizing the awe and reverence I felt in search of a subject to write about. These unheard-of stories from remote mountains and forests have impacted and enriched contemporary literature, while also giving my writing a grounding—a small place to call its own.”

Engaging with different professions and sectors of society allows writers to connect more closely with lived realities and access a broader range of literary subjects. In this spirit, “amateur writing”—produced by non-professional authors who draw from their everyday experiences—has flourished in China in recent years, adding new texture to the literary landscape.

Hu Anyan, for example, documents his experience as a delivery worker in the nonfiction collection I Deliver Parcels in Beijing, offering a window into the conditions faced by this emerging labor force. Wang Jibing, known as the “food delivery poet,” finds lyrical inspiration in the scenes and encounters he witnesses on his rounds. Online novelist Zhuo Muxian, who previously served in the military and practiced law, came into close contact with primary-level police officers for work and later undertook additional field research—providing the raw material for his many police-themed novels. Through “deep immersion,” these writers are able to observe the finer details of life and adopt language shaped by authentic experience, rendering their works more compelling.

Ultimately, for literature to sustain its appeal in an age defined by media convergence and AI, writers must strive for individualized, creative expression and intellectual depth. While embracing new technologies, they should also immerse themselves in diverse walks of life and geographical regions, offering distinctive perspectives on the world and affirming the enduring humanistic spirit of literature.

Zhou Siming is a member of the Literary Criticism Committee of the Guangdong Provincial Writers Association, and an advisor to the Shenzhen Literary and Art Critics Association.

Edited by WANG YOURAN