distorted image of girl's face

A few weeks ago, I got a private message from someone I didn’t recognize on Discord. They’re a member of the Western Mass Writer’s Guild Discord server. I don’t normally chat with random people on the Internet but I thought I’d see if they were a local writer or what. We exchanged a few messages. They said they were an artist and asked if I wanted to look at their portfolio. They had a dozen or more pieces of digital art where you could see both the original line drawings and the finished, full-color artworks.

I’m not sure why they messaged me. I think they may have seen the posts about starting Elegant Lich and hoped that maybe we would be in the market to purchase artwork. They never really said.

We exchanged a few dozen messages during the following weeks. I made it clear early on that I wasn’t in the market to purchase artwork. But, during the conversation, I also was trying to suss out if they were a human being or a bot.

I asked how they were. “Sad” because they didn’t have any commissions. I asked what they were going, “Nothing much. Trying to get some work.” I made a point of sharing public aspects of my life: the same things I was posting to social media: hanging out with Tanuki, getting a flat tire fixed, getting vaccinated, etc. They said nothing to suggest they had any kind of human life.

Finally, I admitted that I was trying to tell if they were a human being. They haven’t contacted me since.

This was all before SFWA ran their panel discussion today: I Swear I’m Not a Robot — How Publishers Are Handling the Pressure to Confirm Human Authorship. It was very helpful and I took careful notes. The panel included a number of editors that are struggling with the problem of identifying AI-generated manuscripts.

They pointed out that the problem is not just manuscripts. The entire ecosystem is under attack. It includes reviews and artwork and correspondence. “In every space there might be writing, people are using these tools to conduct scams” — M.L. Clark.

All of the editors reported a significant amount of trauma over the experience of having accepted, nearly published, or published AI generated manuscripts — and only learning they’d been scammed through reports from readers. It’s a struggle to extend and maintain trust — especially with new authors who most need to find a receptive, supportive community. What is the community’s role? What is the responsibility of the staff? Where does the buck stop? What do we do? “Dealing with not being able to know is the challenge” — Michael J. Deluca.

There is a substantial debate about the potential role of using automated tools to identify AI-generated manuscripts. Some of the tools seem quite good right now. But it’s an arms race between the AIs and the tools. When do you use them? As a first line of defense, to protect your slush readers? Do you really trust the machine to make these decisions? There’s not a clear answer.

One editor said they might engage the author in a series of questions about their writing process, e.g. “Why did you use this PoV?” I thought, “Oh, no. I’m fucked.” I don’t know why I write the way I do. I’ve never taken any writing classes so I don’t even have the language to talk about why I write the way I do. But other people were careful to point out that the burden of proving they were human should not be on the author but on the editor. Still, retaining artifacts of the writing process, like outlines, rough drafts, revision histories, could all be useful to help demonstrate human authorship.

The moderator commented that Yog’s Law should still hold: Authors should certainly not have to pay to prove that they’re human.

There were a few encouraging points. First, Gen-AI is not good at generating long manuscripts. It can write good flash fiction but, the longer the manuscript, the less likely the AI is to be able to develop and maintain a complex narrative. Many of the people using AI are fundamentally lazy: simple checks can catch many of them. Also, current models are being funded by venture capital. As the true costs shift to the users, it may well not be economically viable to generate AI for the meagre pittance that short fiction writers earn, and discourage scammers from pursuing the “market.”

In the end, the recommendations were for editors to educate themselves, talk to each other, and build stronger networks of human connection. All good recommendations.

a stylish hip flask

Like most authors these days, I’m getting constantly inundated with author scam messages. As someone familiar with the underlying technology, these are pretty easy for me to recognize, but I realized it might be worth documenting the kinds of features I use to identify them. Some of these are pretty obvious, while others are more subtle.

A great source of information is SFWA’s Writer Beware. Victoria Strauss has been writing about these scams as they’ve developed over the past couple of years. This impersonation scam has already been documented by Victoria — including the particular person being impersonated —which I’ll use here for my demonstration.

This message purports to be from an agent at a literary agency that would like to solicit the manuscript I’m currently querying with. In this case, the agent and agency are both real but this particular message is fake.

A couple of things to note first. One is that I’m using a desktop computer application to check my messages. If you use phone email clients, they often make it difficult to see the email address a message came from — or to consult the full headers. Second, is that my email client is configured to not load remote “content”. I recommend never, ever loading the remote content in email. It’s almost always web-bugged, meaning it uses a filename or server path that communicates to the sender that you’ve looked at the message. You really don’t want to ever do that. It does mean that messages sometimes look broken. But the “design” of email is easy to copy and so you shouldn’t ever let yourself be fooled by a message because it “looks” genuine.

One of the first things I do when I get one of these messages is to determine whether the person referenced actually exists. A quick web search will confirm that Amelia Atlas is an actual agent and that she does, in fact, work with the Creative Artists Agency. But a little more digging will show some discrepancies. First, the email address the message was apparently sent from (amelia.agent.caa@gmail.com) is different than the email address shown in the footer (amelia@caa.com) and both of these are different from her actual email address (which you can find at her agency website).

Note that you can’t fully trust the email address shown in the “From:” line of a email message. Those are possible to forge, so you really need to look at the raw message source and confirm that the email was actually sent through gmail. The mail headers are long and mostly impenetrable, but there’s the relevant piece that shows where my mail server received the message from Google.

Unfortunately, Google does not show us the actual IP address the scammer connected from — just the address of the server they used (74.125.227.130). Otherwise, we might be able to deduce where they are located in the world. But this shows pretty clearly the email address they used and that it did come from Google.

Since agency email addresses are clearly @caa.com and this came from @gmail.com, we can be pretty sure this message is fake. The fact the footer shows an incorrect address — and is in fact not even linked to a mailto: link, but instead to the agent’s page at caa.com is also a giveaway. It’s gotten so that just the fact that it’s sent from gmail.com is, in itself, suspicious.

Note that this a lesson for authors as well: you really should get a domain name of your own and send all of your email from that if you want to appear legitimate. And you should also maintain a web-presence at your domain name with information people can cross-check to confirm that messages from you are not forged.

One other pitfall to be aware of is that scammers sometimes will register domain names that use non-ASCII letters to impersonate valid websites. For example, I could register “𝖼𝖺𝖺.com” (which uses mathematical characters that look like “caa”, but are different unicode characters: U+1D5BCU+1D5BAU+1D5BA instead of U+0063U+0061U+0061U). This is why you should never trust a link sent in email. Go find the server yourself and navigate starting from there. You can type the domain name yourself, or start with a search engine — they mostly won’t be confused.

Double checking information “out of band” is a useful strategy also in other contexts. One time I got a voicemail from someone who introduced themselves as an FBI agent from Boston and left a phone number. I didn’t call that phone number but, instead, looked up the Boston FBI office, called the number, and asked for the agent by name. It really was a valid message. But you should always be skeptical of information provided by a potentially unreliable source.

Finally, the content of the message is also suspicious. Anyone who knows anything about querying knows that agents basically never solicit manuscripts. If anything, they want a well-structured query and would probably want to look at an excerpt before considering the full manuscript. This particular agent’s webpage specifies what she’s looking for:

For fiction submissions, please include your query letter, bio, and the first 10 pages of your manuscript in the body of your email. For nonfiction submissions, please include your query letter and bio and proposal if available.

Most agents use the nagware website Query Tracker to manage queries. A few do in fact use email, and I expect they are among those most commonly impersonated.

One thing I found creepy about this particular scam was that it seems to be that the scammer has been reading my blog, so they appear to know I’m currently querying. I got an earlier scam solicitation that pretended to be a different agent at a different agency that was similar, but I wasn’t yet querying at that time.

One other particular giveaway in this instance for me was that I have in fact queried a different agent at Creative Artists. So I wouldn’t query a second agent at the same agency — and would certainly not expect a different agent to contact me.

Good luck out there. It’s a dangerous world.

a rock

There is a new scam going round. WriterBeware called it Nigerian Prince Redux and I’ve gotten now a half dozen or more examples. They arrive as emails (or comments on my website, though mostly emails) that present as book clubs that are really excited about one of my books. Or as services to help market my books.

They’re not that hard to recognize. When you look at the emails, they have obvious misspellings in the names. And the people they mention and organizations they refer to don’t exist.

I’ve gotten things like this from when my first book came out. The earlier examples were crude and had all the lure of a bare fishhook. What’s new is the use of AI to create overblown language to try to fish you in. It’s just… Ugh.

The messages use sycophantic language to rave about the book:

I came across Revin’s Heart and was immediately drawn in by its premise, airship pirates, identity, and the courage to follow one’s true self. It’s rare to find a story that blends adventure, steampunk atmosphere, and emotional discovery with such nuance.

Seriously, that blend of steampunk adventure, social tension, and emotional awakening? That’s not writing, that’s alchemy. You didn’t just create a world; you forged one. The war, the class divide, the moral tug-of-war between duty and desire, it’s like you built a literary airship powered by empathy and intellect.

Your novel, with its blend of realistic emotional journey and gentle mystery, appears to be exactly the type of story that resonates deeply with readers who enjoy character-driven fiction with a touch of the speculative. My role is to design and implement a marketing strategy that connects such works with their ideal audience.

They also sometimes rave about me:

And then I look at you, Steven D. Brewer, professor, linguist, environmentalist, IT whisperer, Japanese culture enthusiast , and I realize: of course this story came from your brain. You’ve got the curiosity of a scientist, the soul of a poet, and the mischief of a pirate captain. (I’m convinced you’re secretly running a floating lab over Massachusetts right now.)

They’re just scams, written by AI, and mostly operated by people outside the country, looking to prey on vulnerable people using flattery and deception. But there’s always a small part of you that wishes you could believe all those things.

I’m reminded of the Charlie Brown Halloween special.

Lucy: I got 5 pieces of candy!

Violet: I got a chocolate bar!

Patty: I got a quarter!

Charlie Brown: I got a rock.

If I wanted to have AI rave about me and my books, I could just ask it to do that myself. So, no thank you.