Blog 88 - A.I Phishing

Blog 88 - A.I Phishing

November 2025

Ah, the sweet symphony of an email notification! For a writer, that little ping can hold a universe of possibilities. Is it a reader? A publisher? Maybe even an agent clamoring to represent you (we can dream, right?). More often than not, it’s a newsletter you forgot you subscribed to, or an unsolicited offer for a lifetime supply of slightly-less-than-premium ballpoint pens. But sometimes, just sometimes, it’s something genuinely delightful.
A few weeks ago, I received one of those genuinely delightful notifications. The subject line was simple, "Regarding your short story, 'Breathe'." My heart did a little flutter-kick. "Breathe" is one of those pieces I poured a little extra soul into, a nice little Science fiction short story born from a particularly productive afternoon. It's not my most widely published work, nor my flashiest, but it holds a special place. To have someone seek it out, to read it, felt like a warm hug from the universe.
I opened the email with an almost giddy anticipation. And oh, it delivered! The sender, whose name I'll charitably redact for the sake of their automated dignity, absolutely gushed. They spoke of the story's depth, its poignant themes, the delicate dance of its prose. They praised my unique voice, my ability to evoke emotion, and even used words like "masterful" and "profound." Honestly, my ego inflated to near-blimp proportions. I floated around the house for the rest of the day, basking in the glow of genuine, unadulterated appreciation. This is why we do it, isn't it? For that connection, that moment when your words find their home in someone else's heart.
Naturally, I responded with a torrent of gratitude, thanking them profusely for their incredibly kind and insightful words. It's rare enough to get feedback, let alone such glowing, articulate praise. I felt seen, validated, and utterly chuffed. I even entertained the fleeting thought that perhaps, just perhaps, I wasn't entirely a charlatan masquerading as a wordsmith after all.
Then came the second email.
It landed in my inbox a few days later, still carrying the same sender's name and a familiar flattering tone. "Your story continues to resonate with me," it began, layering on more compliments about my unparalleled talent and the sheer brilliance of "Breathe." My blimp-ego inflated a little further, maybe even deployed a small banner that read "Genius at Work." But then, a subtle shift occurred. The language started to morph, ever so slightly, from pure adoration to something a little more… businesslike.
It spoke of "unique opportunities" and "unleashing the full potential" of my magnificent work. It hinted at a "collaboration of sorts," a chance to bring "Breathe" to a much wider audience, an audience that, funnily enough, seemed to be eagerly awaiting my particular brand of literary genius. Ah, now the penny dropped. The blimp started to deflate, slowly but surely, with a gentle hiss of escaping gas.
We've moved on from the days of the charmingly awkward cold caller trying to sell you double glazing. We are now, my friends, in the glorious, slightly unsettling era of A.I. Solicitation. Oh, how far we have come! From the clumsy phishing scams of yesteryear, we now have sophisticated bots capable of reading (or at least scanning for keywords that indicate quality) pieces of work, then crafting remarkably convincing flattery, before seamlessly pivoting into a sales pitch that feels almost... personal. It was like getting a love letter that ended with a coupon for a vacuum cleaner.
I responded again, maintaining my polite, if now slightly more wary, tone. I reiterated my profound gratitude for their boundless compliments – because, let's be honest, who doesn't love being told they're brilliant, even by a bot? But I also, gently but firmly, made it clear that I wouldn't be interested in the "thousands of readers" they could forward my story to for "a very reasonable fee." My words, I explained, were meant to find their audience organically, through genuine connection, not through a pay-per-click digital P.R. campaign that felt less like promotion and more like literary prostitution. (Okay, I didn't use those words, but the sentiment was certainly simmering).
And so, as you might have guessed, it began. My inbox transformed into a digital Niagara Falls of offers. A tidal wave of emails, all from the same sender, or at least, the same automated source, flooded in. Each email was a variation on the theme: "Guaranteed favourable reviews for x amount of money!" "Video promos for cheap rates!" "Boost your Goodreads ranking instantly!" "Social media blitz for your masterwork!" It was like a digital carnival barker, but instead of hawking ring-toss prizes, they were hocking synthetic literary legitimacy.
The sheer volume was staggering. It wasn't just a few follow-ups; it was a relentless, almost hourly assault. Each email, despite my clear refusal, insisted on the unparalleled quality of my work and the desperate need for their services to ensure it received the recognition it so clearly deserved. It was manipulative, disheartening, and frankly, quite annoying.
Eventually, with a sigh that carried the weight of a thousand ignored newsletters, I had to block the sender. It felt like a small defeat, shutting down a channel that, for a brief shimmering moment, had promised genuine connection. But frankly, my inbox couldn't handle the endless cascade of "opportunities" and I’m buggered if I’m going to sell my artistic soul for a few quid and some bot-generated reviews.

And so, I ask you, my fellow wordsmiths and discerning readers, isn't it hard enough? Isn't it enough of a monumental challenge for us to pour our heart and soul onto the page, to craft stories that resonate, to find an authentic audience that truly gets what you're trying to say? We navigate the labyrinthine world of publishing, the agent rejections, the self-doubt, the endless pursuit of honing our craft. We crave genuine responses, real feedback, and connections with readers who appreciate the art, not the algorithm.
This kind of pitiful soliciting, cloaked in flattering language and masquerading as a legitimate opportunity, doesn't just add insult to injury; it adds noise to an already clamorous world. It preys on the vulnerable hopes of writers, especially independent authors, who are simply looking for a fair chance to share their work. It cheapens the creative process and makes the search for true engagement even more arduous.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve learned my lesson. So, next time a flattering email arrives, praising my "masterful prose" and "profound insights," sure, I’ll take a moment to bask in the glow and enjoy the ego boost. But then, dear readers, I’ll cast a discerning eye. Because while the bots may have learned how to flatter, they still haven't quite mastered the art of genuine appreciation. That, my friends, still comes from a beating human heart, it comes from you the reader and it's worth more than all the guaranteed favourable reviews in the digital ether. I’ll keep writing, keep sharing, and keep blocking those persistent digital charlatans. My words deserve better than an algorithm. They are for you and you alone. Whether you like them or loathe them, they are yours and always will be. Oh, and by the way you can read Breathe for free on my web site, it’s had very good reviews!