Every week, I read texts from students and PhD candidates that I have to grade or give feedback on. Lately, my evaluations have unfortunately often not been very positive.
Entire paragraphs sound like polished, empty, and impersonal standard output. They contain words and sentence structures I’ve never heard that person use before.
Many students seem to think: as long as it sounds academic. As long as it sounds somehow smart. And what you get is a text that may sound impressive on the surface, but immediately creates this feeling when you read it: no one is writing here with their own voice. This is someone writing like a glossy bot with a reference list.
And that’s extremely frustrating for supervisors, because they read the same types of texts every day. They develop a sense for whether a sentence is actually trying to say something—or just pretending to.
That’s exactly why today I want to show you five typical AI phrases that are really terrible, why they’re so annoying to read, and how you can replace them so your text actually sounds like you again and stands out from the crowd.
The real problem is not AI. I use AI all day long. The real problem is poor writing style—or rather, a lack of awareness of how your writing comes across to others.
A supervisor doesn’t automatically hate a text because a tool may have helped. What’s annoying is sterile, polished, interchangeable writing that sounds like zero personal effort. And once you understand that, you’ll immediately write better than most others.
#1 A lot of fluff for nothing
Let’s start with the first category: “importance phrases.” Sentences like:
- “It is important to emphasize…”
- “It is crucial to note…”
- “It should be highlighted at this point…”
- Or: “In today’s fast-paced world…”
At first glance, these sound serious—but they have a problem: they announce importance instead of delivering it. They tell you: “Attention, this is important now.” But when you break the sentence down, there’s often nothing there.
Why is this annoying? Because it wastes space. Academic writing is not theatre fog. A good sentence delivers an observation, an interpretation, or an argument—ideally based on a source you’ve actually read.
A bad sentence just creates an atmosphere of importance.
If you write:
“It is important to emphasize that social media influences adolescents,”
a supervisor won’t think: “Wow, how nuanced.”
They’ll think: “Yes, thanks. And now?”
What exactly is your point? What kind of influence? Under what conditions? Why is it relevant to your research question?
Much better:
“Social media influences adolescents particularly when social comparison and the need for validation play a central role in their daily lives (source).”
Now there’s an actual idea—grounded in research. The sentence has substance.
#2 “Not only… but also”
“The method is not only efficient, but also flexible and practical.”
The problem isn’t that this structure is grammatically wrong. The problem is that it often sounds like a pre-built AI template. It feels clean, symmetrical, and polished—but when you read it 500 times, it becomes unbearable.
If you write:
“This theory is not only useful for analysis, but also relevant for practical application,”
it sounds academic—but what does that actually mean?
Which analysis? Which application? Why exactly?
Even worse:
“This finding does not mean X, but Y.”
If it doesn’t mean X, then just leave X out.
To avoid this, you can literally prompt your AI tool not to use such structures. It’s that simple.
The sad part? It takes about five minutes to set up a custom GPT so it doesn’t write like everyone else—but like you want it to.
If you want better outputs from AI, you need some basic prompt engineering skills—and you need to understand what good writing looks like. Otherwise, you can’t give the AI proper instructions.
#3 The triple list
Another classic: three-part lists.
Sentences like:
- “The topic is relevant, complex, and multifaceted.”
- “The results show opportunities, challenges, and potentials.”
- “Academic work requires structure, discipline, and reflection.”
This structure sounds smooth and complete—which is exactly why AI uses it all the time.
The problem: it often sounds generic. Three abstract terms, usually neutral, so broad they could fit anywhere.
Once? Totally fine.
Every second sentence? Your whole text starts sounding like it came from a generator.
This is another thing you can (and should) explicitly forbid in your AI meta-prompt.
#4 Synonyms
This one is tricky—because it looks like good style.
AI loves constantly switching terms to make a text sound “nicer”:
- “students” → learners, university attendees, academic trainees
- “interview” → conversation, survey, data collection
- “motivation” → drive, willingness, engagement, ambition
And this is the death of academic writing.
Why? Because academic writing isn’t about sounding pretty—it’s about conceptual precision.
If you define a term once, it has a fixed function in your paper. It’s a precise tool. And you don’t constantly swap out precise tools just to make a sentence sound more elegant.
Consistency matters more than variation.
Example:
You define “social support” at the beginning.
If you then constantly switch to “help,” “backing,” “support systems,” “assistance,” etc., your text becomes unclear.
These terms are not identical. They might overlap—or they might not. Either way, it creates confusion.
Unlike the other AI phrases (which are just annoying), this is actually wrong academically.
If I read a scientific paper full of unnecessary synonyms, it gets marked down. Significantly. That was true before AI—and it still is.
That’s why someone with experience + AI gets much better results than someone without experience using the same AI.
Better approach:
Define “social support” clearly once—and then stick with it. Even if it feels repetitive.
Academic writing doesn’t need to sound literary. It needs to be clear.
If a term is central, repetition is a strength—not a weakness.
Language models are trained to sound fluent, varied, and elegant.
Academic writing often requires the opposite: repetition, precision, and consistency.
If you let a default model write freely, you’re setting yourself up to fail.
You need to give it context, examples, detailed prompts—and ideally your own structure, even if it’s painful to start without AI.
#5 Punctuation overload
The last category isn’t about phrases, but punctuation patterns:
dashes, semicolons, colons.
AI texts often overuse them to extend sentences or make them sound more “elegant.”
None of these are wrong on their own. The problem is frequency.
Some academics who used to love dashes now avoid them—just to not sound like AI. Sad, but true.
I’ve even seen people (e.g., some of my Chinese PhD students) speak the way AI writes—including “not only… but also” structures. Also sad. Also true.
You don’t need to avoid these punctuation marks completely—but use them sparingly.
If every second sentence contains a dash, semicolon, or colon, something is usually off at the sentence level.
Instead of:
“There is one central problem: many students start too late,”
just write:
“The central problem is that many students start too late.”
Instead of:
“The theory is useful; it structures the analysis,”
write:
“The theory is useful because it structures the analysis.”
Suddenly, the text sounds more natural.
And that’s what makes the difference.
Don’t try to sound as polished as possible—write so that someone can clearly follow your actual thinking.





















