Dear Publishing Scammers: Fuck Off!

There is a special place in hell for people who prey on other people's dreams. And I sincerely hope it has terrible Wi-Fi, no air conditioning and a permanent shortage of toilet paper.

Yesterday, my partner received an email from someone claiming to be Daisy Hutton, Vice President and Publisher at Hachette Nashville. Yes, THAT Hachette. One of the biggest publishing groups in the world.

The email was impressive. It mentioned his employment history, qualifications, technical writing experience, creative fiction and Master of Arts in Creative Writing. It was personal, complimentary and beautifully written. The sort of email that makes a writer think, Bloody hell, someone's finally noticed my work!

And my partner deserves to be noticed. He's a genuinely talented writer who has spent years developing his craft.

Before he replied, he ran it past me... Fortunately, he has me. And I have ChatGPT, which is becoming exceptionally good at detecting bullshit.

One Extra Letter. One Enormous Fucking Lie.

The email came from daisy.hutton@hhbgusa.com. Hachette's genuine domain is @hbgusa.com. See that extra H? That's the scam. One miserable little letter.

The particularly sneaky part is that Daisy Hutton is a real publishing executive. These bastards weren't inventing someone. They were impersonating an actual person with an impressive position.

Naturally, I wanted to know how they knew so much about my partner. His career, his writing, his qualifications. It was almost creepy. Then we checked LinkedIn. Bingo.

All that information was sitting there. My suspicion is that these scammers are harvesting professional profiles and using AI to manufacture convincing, personalised emails.

What took my partner decades to achieve probably took some little shithead thirty seconds to turn into a potential con. So Where's the Money? That's the clever part. They didn't ask for any.

First comes the flattery. Then the conversation. Then perhaps the exciting possibility of a publishing contract. And eventually, the inevitable fee for manuscript assessment, editing, administration or some other invented necessity.

Hachette itself warns about scammers impersonating its executives and demanding money from hopeful authors.

And this isn't an isolated incident. Another Australian writer reportedly received a similarly personalised email impersonating a different Hachette executive, using the exact same fraudulent domain.

Same bullshit. Different victim.

We even examined the original email's technical information. It had been sent through Google's mail infrastructure and passed its authentication checks. The scammers had apparently gone to the trouble of setting up a functioning email service for their fake domain.

That's how convincing these operations can be.

And Here's What Really Pisses Me Off.

It's not the technology or the fake email address.

It's the cruelty.

Writers spend years creating something they hope somebody will appreciate. They endure rejection, disappointment and uncertainty. And then along comes an email suggesting that someone important has finally recognised their talent.

For a moment, my partner had every reason to feel excited. I felt excited for him! I was already planning our trip to America!!!

And I fucking hate that these arseholes exploited that.

His talent is real. His achievements are real. His writing is real.

The opportunity wasn't.

So, to every writer out there, check the sender's actual email address. Verify unsolicited offers directly with the publisher. And never assume that because someone knows your professional history, they're legitimate.

As for the people responsible, here's a thought. If you're clever enough to research authors, impersonate publishing executives and create convincing fraudulent emails, perhaps consider getting an actual fucking job.

Although that would require something you clearly don't possess.

A conscience.

And to whoever sent that email to my partner: you picked the wrong bloody household. You didn't get his money. You didn't get his manuscript. You didn't even get a reply. But you did get a blog post. 

Pity; I wanted to go The Beekeeper on them! Fucking bastards. I can see me now... going Jason Stathem. Everything exploding.