The advent of chatbots such as ChatGPT was supposed to be a boon to writers. Overnight, for a small fee (or free, in some cases) you had the services of a digital assistant who could perform research, generate ideas, suggest better sentences, proof-read, create illustrations from text or voice instructions, or even write your article, story or novel, based on prompts, while you lazed away on a Caribbean beach, dreaming of the millions you would make as a prolific author. However, you did not factor in the Dream Merchants, the slick bad guys who would use the same chatbots to fake identities, inveigle themselves into your corner, and suck you dry.
It started about two months ago when I began receiving e-mails via the “Contact Me” link on my website that shields my e-mail address from outsiders. The letters were beautifully and flatteringly written, highlighting one of my books, diving deep into its plot and characters, and saying how brilliant the book was. While I pondered how to respond, this same person would go to Goodreads—that universal online platform for books, authors, and reviews—and give my book a 5-star rating, even write a glowing review. Then I would get a friend request from this person on Goodreads, followed by an e-mail through that forum, continuing to inflate my ego. At this point, lest I be considered rude, I would reply and make the connection. Then came the pitch: marketing offers at differing price levels for different services that went something like this:
Starter Package: 20 Book Ratings and Reviews on Amazon, 20 on Goodreads – $100
Basic Package: 50 of all the above – $200
Growth Package: 100 of all the above – $350
Pro Package: 200 of all the above – $650
Ultimate Package: 500 of all the above – $1250
*Add reviews on Google, Waterstones, and other platforms for just 20% extra each.
Note to reader: I do not pay for reviews, nor have I been paid for the 850-plus reviews I have written for Goodreads and other magazines.
When I asked to speak to this particular marketer, they seemed reluctant, saying they did not use the phone to transact business, but did everything via e-mail. When I told them to go stuff it, they relented and gave me a North American phone number, but asked me to use WhatsApp. This rat was starting to stink, bigly. These scammers have Western names with “literary” associations like James Cervantes, or Savannah Rose; or a business one like Patty J Fee; or even a compassionate moniker like Mercy Gold. When I phoned, I got what sounded like a sweat shop in an unknown country where the person answering the call couldn’t even speak English— a far cry from that elegant letter writer!
When these “solicitations” started mounting to about 6 e-mails from 6 different “marketers” a day, I started to hit back with insulting replies, poking fun at them to feed my sadistic need for revenge and not be bothered by this clutter in my mailbox. The flood immediately slowed to a trickle (maybe these guys are networked, or maybe they are all one and the same person). The trickle has now shrunk to a drip. Perhaps there is a big fat “Do Not Contact This Loser” sign against my name in their database. I hope so!
The second scam was the online Book Club, which “loved” my book and wanted me to call in to their monthly meeting on Zoom, where hundreds of readers would be present. However, I wouldn’t be able to see those tiny Zoom windows as I would be in Webinar format (interpreted as “no one would be there!”). When I showed enthusiasm and agreed to participate, I was told that I had to first provide $100 for marketing collateral to promote the event. When I told them that I don’t pay book clubs, that they pay me instead, I did not hear back. Good!
The upshot of this new activity is that it scares writers from making contact with genuine people online, because every encounter now has to be first filtered through “scammer’s disinfectant,” a turn-off from striking any genuine relationship. My books’ ratings and reviews on Goodreads have also been shooting up and down like a stock market ticker – up when the scammers flock to fatten me for the kill by throwing 5-star ratings at my work, and down when the moderators of this forum start deleting these impostors and those 5-stars begin to disappear. As of this writing, my ratings are back to where they were before the rot started. So is my ego. But it was an illusory high (and low) while it lasted.
Book marketing scams are not new and have been around since the time books went commercial. But this time, the scammers are dressed in elegant clothes (prose) that dazzle. The worlds of fact and fiction are blurring in book marketing, where, aided by these dream merchants and a few deft AI strokes, authors could build fictional, larger-than-life personas for themselves if they fork out enough money to keep the game going. Conversely, they could also be robbed of their meagre earnings by these very merchants who take money up front and vanish to prey on the next sucker in the ever-widening pool of wannabe authors trying to gain validation by writing a book. Buyer beware, like never before!
