On Monday, January 5, I got an enticing email through the contact link on my Authors Guild web site. Here it is:
Invitation from Brevard Book Club Featuring Path to Singularity
Hi Craig,
Im Wendy, organiser of the Brevard Book Club here in Florida. Your book Path to Singularity: How Technology Will Challenge the Future of Humanity sparked a fascinating conversation among our members, especially your thoughtful exploration of artificial intelligence, genetic engineering, and the ethical choices that will shape our technological future.
We would love to feature Path to Singularity at our upcoming meeting on January 16, and wed be delighted to welcome you briefly to share your insights, inspirations, and perspective on how humanity can navigate these emerging challenges with wisdom and care.
Thank you for bringing such a clear, engaging, and thought-provoking voice to this vital conversation. We wish you continued success and hope youre keeping well.
brevardbookclubwendy@gmail.com brevardbookclubwendy@gmail.com
My first uncharitable reaction was to think scam. The first word was misspelled, as were a couple of other words. The suggested time was only 10 days away, pretty short. Then I thought, maybe Wendy just types too fast. She certainly did seem to know what my book was about. I also ran this by my wife. She had no reservations, declaring it to be a scam and warning me not to respond to it. Being a kindhearted author starving for attention, I registered her reaction but continued to ponder the situation.
That afternoon, I read the mail to the Westbank Writers group. They were full of praise and congratulations. I had to pop that bubble, warning that I was concerned about it being a scam. We had a very interesting discussion at the end of which about half the group suspected a scam and half thought it was probably genuine. One of the members browsed and found a Wendi, not Wendy, associated with the Brevard Book Club.
I pondered all this overnight. I did some browsing and found a link to the Brevard Book Club. The site looked fine, if a little vague on details like officers and contact information. I decided that if the email were genuine, I owed Wendy the courtesy of a response. I determined to be polite, but cautious. The next morning, Tuesday, I replied using my Authors Guild contact service rather than revealing my University of Texas personal email address, not that it is that hard to find. I thanked Wendy for her interest in the book and asked to learn more about the Brevard Book Club. I asked for her full name, the club website or social media page, the logistics of the meeting, time of day, length of discussion, the hosting medium (Zoom?), the expected number of participants, and her expectations for my part of the presentation.
Wendy promptly replied that she was popularly known as Wendy and "would like to keep it that way." She gave me some details of the meeting, some history of the Brevard Book Club, a sketch of how the broader network of the club connects with literary communities such as Bloomsbury's Author Collective, Reedsy's Writing Community, and the Book Festival's Independent Spotlight Series, and said that their featured authors "gain extended visibility across respected reader spaces." I browsed those writing communities; they seemed to be real. She also added:
We're also inviting all participating authors to our Authors Recognition Awards, where we celebrate standout works among our featured authors. Those featured this month will be submitted for nomination. Finalists are highlighted in our event coverage, newsletters, and partner communities, and receive a Certificate of Recognition and a digital badge for their author platforms.
This mail also had three attachments, photos of the book club at work. One particularly showed what seemed to be a book signing. The other two showed speakers addressing audiences but were otherwise rather generic. The venues were very different in all the photos.
The next day, Wednesday, I sent a short email saying I was interested in proceeding.
Wendy promptly wrote back with some organizational details then added:
Just to be fully transparent, there is a monetary investment involved, but this is not a participation fee, and we never charge authors to join or be featured. The contribution simply covers the design and preparation work handled by our independent designer, ensuring your spotlight is professionally presented across the event, our newsletter, and post-event highlights.
If you would like to move forward, I'll send you a clear breakdown of what's included, and then connect you directly with our designer, where she'll go over the rates and timeline with you directly, so you can review everything comfortably before confirming anything.
In this third email there is finally a mention of money, not to me, but from me. I thought, okay, now I need some further advice. Naturally, I asked ChatGPT.
Being cheap and paranoid, I only use the don't-bother-to-register free version of ChatGPT. I fed it the first email. It replied that one should be cautious, but that there were no obvious red flags, rather like the average reaction of the Westbank Writers group. I then submitted the second email. It made ChatGPT nervous, noting that the connection with literary communities was rather vague and the promise to "gain extended visibility across respected reader spaces" could be crafted to keep the recipient (me) engaged.
Then I fed ChatGPT the third email and its electronic hair burst into flame. It flagged the mention of a fee that was "not a participation fee" as definite showstopper, evidence of a scam. It suggested I contact the Authors Guild and either break off contact or send a polite note declining further participation.
Thursday morning, I wrote a curt note to "Wendy" saying:
I'm out
Goodbye
The next thing I did was apologize to my wife. She had been correct; her first firm call was right on the money.
That Thursday, I also wrote to the Authors Guild, sending them a copy of the correspondence. I got a reply acknowledging receipt on Friday and a response from their legal representative the following Wednesday. He said it was not totally confirmed, but that one piece of evidence of a scam was the use of a generic gmail address, a technique frequently used by scammers.
I felt relieved, but that Thursday night when I sent my final message to "Wendy," I rolled around in bed with visions of vengeful 20-year-olds in hoodies in Bulgaria or Romania or Russia. Someone had invested a substantial amount of effort setting this up and participating in the correspondence. I could imagine them coming after me in all sorts of frightening high-tech ways just because they could.
It has now been three weeks, and I have not heard a peep. Perhaps Wendy was legit and disappointed. Perhaps it was a scam, and the perpetrators have moved on to other victims. I'll still be a little nervous for a while.