By Chris Pavone

On the epidemics in our in-boxes, and why we fall for them.

Are you aware of the staggering volume of scams that are currently trying to separate writers from our hard-earned pennies? Many of these are easy to spot in the current iterations of their AI generation, and banish to spam. But they keep coming, evolving, fine-tuning themselves, an infinite army of Terminators.

Scams exist because they work, at least occasionally. And these scams of authors work because they exploit an indisputable problem in our business, something I’ve been hearing about repeatedly for more than three decades.

A Quiet Wave Across the Page

I receive a few variations of this every week—impersonations of real people:

Hi Chris Pavone,

I’m writing without a real agenda, which feels like a small rebellion these days. Mostly, I wanted to say hello writer to writer and acknowledge the strange fact that we’re both doing this work at the same time, in the same world, carrying our own versions of it.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how different the experience of writing feels once the books are out there how success doesn’t simplify the work so much as complicate it in new ways. I’d love, at some point, to trade stories about that: what’s surprised you, what’s changed, what’s stayed stubbornly the same.

No expectations attached to this note. Just a quiet wave across the page, and an open door if conversation ever sounds appealing.

Wishing you ease with the work, and curiosity where ease isn’t possible.

Best,

Emily Henry

I’ve received similar friendly notes from impersonators of Kristin Hannah, Taylor Jenkins Reid, Rebecca Yarros, Louise Erdrich, Emily St. John Mandel, Sandra Cisneros, Suzanne Collins, and dozens of others, including the famously reclusive Don DeLillo and the famously nonexistent Elena Ferrante.

Reasonable Propositions to Vulnerable Targets

The above is easy to dismiss, because no real author would ever write such a thing. For a while, I was getting podcast invitations that came with a stipend of $3,000 or $4,000. Since my going rate for podcast appearances is $0, those too were easy to call bullshit on.

But others resemble the sorts of legitimate notes that I need to take seriously: media queries, and invitations from book clubs, libraries, film producers, podcasts.

Hi, I’m currently part of a team working on identifying books that may have strong potential for film adaptation as part of an upcoming development cycle. I’m reaching out to a small number of authors to explore whether they might be open to discussing how their stories could potentially be positioned for film production. If you’re open to it, would you be available for a brief 20-minute chat sometime this week?

Here’s a more specific, more credible pitch:

Hi Chris,

I run The Boozy Book Lovers Book Club here in Washington, DC a vibrant monthly gathering where readers come together to dive into books that spark meaningful conversation. Each session is thoughtfully organized: members vote on titles, read with care, and show up ready for lively, engaging dialogue.

We’d be thrilled to feature your work at an upcoming meeting. Our group loves exploring stories that inspire reflection, connection, and authentic discussion, and your voice and perspective would be a wonderful fit for our community.

Our readers are known for being engaged, supportive, and genuinely invested in each author we highlight ensuring your work receives the attention it deserves. Would you be 

open to a quick chat about how we might spotlight it in the months ahead?

And this one is more bespoke:

Dear Chris,

I hope you’re doing well.

We would love to invite The Parents’ Association, the compelling bonus scene connected to The Doorman, to be featured in our upcoming Spotlight selection.

This sharp and timely piece captures the intensity of modern cultural debates within the microcosm of an elite school community. The escalating tension, ideological conflict, and moral complexity create a powerful narrative that encourages discussion and reflection, qualities our audience deeply appreciates.

Our Spotlight feature highlights bold, conversation-driven works for an engaged community of contemporary fiction readers.

Please let us know if you would like to receive full details regarding the Spotlight opportunity and availability.

This doesn’t sound like a totally unreasonable proposition, does it? I’ve received scores of versions of this note. If their language weren’t so similar, I’d have a hard time identifying them. Given the extraordinary pace of AI evolution, a few months from now it’s going to be a lot harder. Maybe impossible.

How Do These Scams Work?

Here’s one endgame I know about: I accept the invitation to be a guest on a podcast, whose producer requests my social log-in credentials so our accounts can live-stream concurrently, at which point the scammer changes my password, and holds my account hostage for ransom payable in crypto.

The book-club scam is less convoluted: after I agree to the invitation, I’m asked to pay a “small fee” to participate, which I’m promised will be easily recouped by copious book sales to the many “engaged members” of the club. But there will be no book sales, because there is no club.

And that I suspect is the normal play for most of these: services that will turn out to not exist.  There will be no increased exposure on Amazon or Goodreads, no BookTok videos or Bookstagram engagement, no review attention, no film option. I will wire my money, and never get anything in return except a cold trail to an Upwork account in Nigeria.

So that’s how they work. But here’s the sadder question:

Why Do These Scams Work?

“My publisher did nothing. Nothing.”

That’s the complaint I’ve been hearing forever, from all sorts of authors. I was hearing this back when I was the publisher, and I couldn’t always disagree with the complaining author. Because I’d sat in our in-house seasonal meeting, and I’d heard the marketing plan, and what it amounted to was, roughly, nothing.

The scams work because for many authors, publishing doesn’t.

But let me back up for a second: there are plenty of writers on Substack who are here to gleefully shit on the publishing business. Not me. I love publishing people, and I think everyone (or nearly) in this business is in it for the best of reasons, with the best of intentions, making their best efforts.

But: no one loves the harsh reality that there are far too many books being published for far too few readers, resulting in far too little marketing to go around. Most authors end up disappointed: career authors with impressive contracts at the biggest publishing houses in the world.

On a macro level, I have no idea what the solution is. On a micro level, just one book at a time, any given author might think that this is a reasonable solution: pay other professionals to do what your publisher cannot, or will not. Pay someone to redesign your website to optimize SEO. Pay someone to manipulate the “Amazon algorithm.” Pay someone to custom-tailor a bookstore tour, a blog tour, a podcast tour. Pay someone to pitch your book to traditional media, to package your book for film and TV, to get your book adopted by celebrity book clubs and social influencers.

Or quietly wave back across the page to Emily Henry, and she’ll soon be your BFF, blurb your book, boom.

To be clear: I myself have never come close to uttering “my publisher did nothing.” I’ve been very lucky, my US publishers Crown/PRH and FSG/Macmillan have worked very hard on each of my novels, spending their time and their budgets and the credibility of their reputations to try to make my books succeed. And they have.

And yet: I’m not invulnerable to believing that my book can get more attention, more adoration. Not for any rational reason, mind you. Just because. If only X, Y, and Z, and those things all happen for some authors, so why not me?

That’s what makes these scams so insidious, like medications for generalized anxiety disorder: Do you occasionally feel anxious in social situations? Does your mind sometimes race when you’re trying to fall asleep? Then maybe you need our drug.

Of course we need your drug! Every writer needs your drug. Please, here, take our money. When can we expect to feel better?