Epistles
The voice test
Would they believe you wrote it? Strip the tells until the answer is yes.
The eleventh law gets sharpest exactly where a real person you know will read the words. The test is simple and brutal: would they believe you wrote it? Machine drafts fail that test two ways, by texture, the tells every reader is learning, and by tone, the flattering, over-eager register that reads as either insincere or foreign to how you actually talk. Both are fixable; both must actually be fixed.
Sometimes the correct amount of machine in a message is none. For the notes where your unpolished voice is the value, an apology, a condolence, an inside joke, drafting in the machine only launders out the humanity. Know which messages those are before asking for a draft, and for everything else, edit until the voice test passes with someone who knows exactly how you sound.
How to practice it
Run the voice test.
Read it as the recipient who knows you. Any sentence they'd doubt you wrote gets rewritten in your own words.
Kill the flattery first.
Machine drafts over-praise and over-hedge. The warm-up paragraph is usually the first thing your voice would never say.
Match your register.
If you are terse, the message is terse. A suddenly eloquent you is a tell all by itself.
Know the no-draft messages.
Some words must be yours from the first keystroke. Decide before opening the machine, not after.