Sometimes they come in through the website, other times they have just lifted my email from somewhere. A fulsome message, from a literary agent, from an editor at a Big Five publishing company, from an organizer of a Big Serious book club. They loved, were moved by, were fascinated with, admired, etc. my [insert the title of one my self-published novels here]. They would like to discuss it with me, to pursue their interest in getting it “out there” to the public, to help bring it to readers who are waiting with bated breath to get it into their eager hands. They breathlessly describe in detail the themes, the characters, the concepts of the novel.
Yeah, right. The book club doesn’t exist. The editor’s return email is “senoir.editor@gmail.com.” My novel appears as an e-book on a couple of platforms, including those subscribed by public libraries, so it’s easy to lift the text and run it through whatever diabolical AI chute they use to generate their comments. Maybe they scrape reviews on Goodreads, I don’t know. But my antennae are tuned in enough to recognize a scam when I see one. Some bloggers have responded to these approaches to see where they go, and they are obviously (so obviously) angling for a consulting fee, a paid editing gig, upfront investment, whatever. So these messages go directly to Trash.
But this one had a slightly new twist. It came through the website contact link today, from someone named Annie Ernaux. I thought the name sounded familiar… maybe I’d met her somewhere? Or saw one of her books in the library? She wrote that she “wanted to reach out to express my appreciation for the emotional complexity and social awareness woven into this compelling young adult novel.” (She was referring to Scratched.) She “was especially drawn to the metaphor of the racetrack,” admired my “particular sensitivity to lives shaped by circumstance,” and “would be very interested to learn what first inspired Luis and the world of horse racing.” She closed by saying she “would be glad to stay in touch if you’re open to it.”
No solicitations of any particular kind. Just basically saying she was a writer, really liked my book, and would like to discuss it with me. Now, I’ve written more than one “fan letter” in my life to writers whose work grabbed me, touched me, delighted me. I complimented them on the things I loved, thanked them, and signed off. Sometimes they’ve written me back, and that pleases me immensely. And hey, when we write, isn’t there a part of us that would love to have our work affect some reader, somewhere, like that? So, you know… maybe this could possibly be something like that? She said she was a writer, so of course I googled her.
And oh, yes, she is a writer. Annie Ernaux is an 86-year-old French novelist who lives outside Paris… and won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2022. So that’s where I must have heard her name… Imagine. An octogenarian Nobel prizewinner who just happened to stumble on my little self-published novella about immigrant workers on a midwestern American horse track, and was just swept away by it.
Not.
For further follow-up, I checked Facebook. The first hit was another writer, posting about an email she had received from Annie Ernaux just today (Mme Ernaux has been busy today). Almost exactly the same letter, about a totally different book. The poster’s friends were sending congratulatory comments: Wonderful! Congratulations! You deserve it! I felt bad for her, but I briefly said I had gotten a nearly identical letter today, so no, this was fraudulent.
So, just another scam. Maybe a step up in its eloquent admiration of the book you worked on so diligently with hope and devotion, and – especially – its notable lack of an initial “come on.” But even when I recognized this was a fake, it still left me feeling a little sick, a little sad, a little disappointed. And angry besides. I guess the fraudsters are getting better at this, and one has to be wary. Very wary. And hit the Trash button.
