Bots and Me by Heather Haven

Recently, the latest book in the Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries, Cleopatra almost Slept Here, debuted. Following my glory hallelujahs, emails started coming out of the woodwork written by allegedly important and famous people. To hear them tell it, I’m not only a wunderkind, but so taken were they, they ignored whatever else was on their agenda to sit right down, read my book, and then write me a lengthy email extoling the book’s virtues. Even my mother rarely went that far. Every day I receive  two or three of these classics. These emails come from far and wide, but manage to say virtually the same thing. I’ve pulled out two as an example:

A Vice President and Editor-in-Chief of a major publishing house said, “The combination of a private-investigator family, animal characters, lighthearted banter, and real investigative stakes gives the novel a strong identity within the cozy mystery space. The archaeological setting also provides an especially appealing backdrop for readers who enjoy mysteries built around history, ancient treasures, and unusual locations.” He then offered I know not what, because all this bot really wanted to do was start an exchange of emails that resulted in extracting my hard-earned moola. I never responded.

I was particularly surprised to hear from Terry Gross of Fresh Air fame, who wrote “It was a genuine pleasure to discover your novel Cleopatra almost Slept Here and to immerse myself in the delightfully witty, wonderfully entertaining, and utterly captivating world you have created. I am reaching out to you personally because I believe your voice and your gift for blending classic mystery with modern humor would make for a truly compelling conversation on Fresh Air, broadcast on Wider Horizons for You and Yours (WHYY).” At the end of the email, she sent her warmest regards while misspelling her last name. Even my two cats laughed at that one.

Here is my response to a particularly insistent bot: “If you are a real human being I apologize. However, I still suspect you are a bot who has learned the ways of charming money out of egotistical writers. I am sorry we have come to this. If you showed up at my house for dinner, I would be more inclined to believe in you. Bring a bottle of wine.”

 I think what is more galling than the unmitigated chutzpa of these emails is the idea that the receiver is so dumb —or has such a large ego — they don’t know a scam when it comes marching at them complete with ticker tape parade.

Sadly, there has to be a naive writer out there buying into this routine, losing their money and a piece of their heart along the way. Let’s face it, if this scam didn’t work, these emails would cease to exist, and the bots would move on to greener pastures. By the way, I have put a pox on the billionaires who own these bots. Like the parents of a spoiled brat, they are really the bad guys.

To muddy the waters, a few years back I received an email from a legitimate producer which led to the Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries being optioned for streaming the series on television. It’s still under option. As only one in every thousand make it to the final stage, I don’t hold my breath. But I’m in the game and it’s a lot of fun.

Given all these scams, would I have even paid attention to that email today? Probably not. I probably would have trashed it like the dozens of others. That thought gives me pause, but not much of one. Such is the climate of internet thievery. Snake oil is alive and well. I can only hope that given the scamming climate, if a legit producer is interested in an artist’s work, they will go the extra hundred miles or so to make it happen. Even though I keep the faith, I can’t help but admit this issue has taken some of the joy out of the debut of my 20^th novel.

In the pool of life, swimming next to sharks is a little scary. I wonder if the shark to the right is really a bot?