History teaches us many things. One of them is this: if there is a way for a scammer to scam, they will do it. My inbox fills daily with AI-generated emails faker than a three-dollar bill. Why are we so desperate for engagement we fall for or create AI spam?

AI, Why You Playing With Me?

Spam, Scams, and the Death of Real Conversation

Hi, my name is Vanessa Riley. I write historical fiction, historical mystery, and historical romance. I spend my days researching forgotten histories, wrestling with plot twists, and trying to give humanity back to people history often ignored. I love my work. Truly.

But apparently, according to my inbox, I also spend my days fielding an avalanche of AI-generated nonsense.

Listen, marketers of the world, if you are going to use AI to write emails, could you at least read through what it spits out before you hit send?

Every morning I open my inbox like Laura Croft entering a cursed temple. Traps are everywhere. Fake refunds. Fake podcast pitches. Fake collaboration requests. SEO “experts” promising to optimize books they clearly know nothing about. And every one of them begins with some robotic compliment so painfully generic I can practically hear the ChatGPT loading wheel spinning in the background.

“I admire the emotional depth of your work…”

“The authenticity of your storytelling…”

“We noticed a visibility gap…”

No, you didn’t. AI noticed a keyword.

And here’s the thing: if you can use AI to generate an email, couldn’t you also use it to figure out whether a book is traditionally published?

Couldn’t you ask the bot:

“What it mean if a book is published by HarperCollins?”

Or:

“Hey chat, does the author control Amazon optimization for traditionally published books?”

Let me save everyone some time: I do not control Goodreads optimization. I do not control Amazon metadata. I do not secretly run SEO campaigns out of my kitchen while baking biscuits and revising chapters.

If you want to spam someone about algorithms and discoverability, send those emails to HarperCollins, William Morrow, Bethany House, Kensington, Penguin Random House, Entangled, Macmillan—send it to them. They’re getting a cut of this AI-fueled stolen books economy. I’m sure they have more resources to wade through ill-conceived emails.

And the emails themselves? Oh, they are spectacularly bad.

One message asked if I accepted guest editorial contributions on my website because they create “high-quality, informative articles written with readers in mind.”

Nothing in the robotic cadence , gives me any confidence that you could write a grocery list.

My website gets real traffic from real readers. I’m not handing access over so some AI-generated backlink farm can attach itself to my work.

Marketers and hooligans work harder. Work smarter.

Then there are the straight up scams.

The fake refund notices are annoying. Like who doesn’t know they are due for a refund?

“Your Refund Has Been Scheduled.”

Scheduled for what? Emotional damage? Bankruptcy?

They’re hoping somebody panics enough to call the number, click the link, or chase money they never expected in the first place. And honestly, in this economy, maybe they think authors are desperate enough to fall for it.

And let me be honest: authors are working very hard in difficult times. The rumors you are hearing are true. Every advance for level playing fields have been stripped like section 2 of the voting rights act.

Like women right now in the workforce, Women authors are hard hit. Especially women writing history people want erased. Especially women writing love stories about people some want to dismiss. Especially writers creating stories centered around people with melanin that didn’t come from a spray tan.

The algorithms that are sending us spam are the same ones helping to propagate misinformation, misogyny, and mistrust.

That’s reality.

Hey, everyone is entitled to their tastes, opinions, and preferences. Fine. Love what you love.

But what I’m asking is to please stop using AI to force your way into spaces you clearly know nothing about and are just trying to pilfer my time, money, or sanity.

Here’s a hint for my fellow authors and author advocates ( alive or AI):

Don’t ask to appear on podcasts you’ve never listened to.

Don’t pitch movies that have nothing to do with my audience.

Don’t ask for access to my readers when a simple Google search would tell you our values are not aligned.

These AI pitches are bad. It’s obvious that they’ve never read a page of my work or listened to a single episode of my podcast.

As what I jokingly call a “D-level celebrity,” I receive endless requests to promote products, feature guests, collaborate on content, and invite strangers into my personal creative space. They want access to you. They want our time together. It’s precious what we have. I honor and treasure it.

For the record: my podcast is not an interview show.

It’s Vanessa’s weekly rant about life, publishing, creativity, history, hustle, exhaustion, ambition, joy, and the utter foolishness connecting all of them together.

But strangely enough, all this AI noise made me realize, I actually do want to expand our conversations.

Real conversation.

Human conversation.

Not generated engagement. Not automated flattery. Not keyword-stuffed attempts written by software trained on prompts and desperation.

I want dialogue.

So I’m creating something called Passage Voices.

If one of my essays moves you, challenges you, irritates you, inspires you—respond. Send a one-minute recorded essay or reflection that I may feature in an upcoming episode. I want readers to talk back. I want thoughtful engagement, even disagreement. I want community.

This is the Nation of Vanessa. I reserve the right to show a little favoritism to subscribers, the people who genuinely support my work.

That’s one of the perks of building your own creative community.

So here is my final plea to the internet:

Please stop using AI to write painful emails.

Please stop asking for access to communities you haven’t taken time to understand.

And for the love of all things holy and righteous, stop sending refund notices— just send cash.

Come to an event! Buy a book. Hey you could even become a paid subscriber, if you have all the refund money lying around.

But if you are genuine—if you actually care about stories, conversation, and community—then come join the conversation honestly.

Human to human.

No chatbot middleman required.

This week’s book list features books to help us process:

You Look Like a Thing and I Love You by Janelle Shane

Funny, accessible, and perfect for readers trying to understand why AI-generated communication often sounds so wrong.

Erasure — by Percival Everett

A brilliant takedown of publishing stereotypes, market expectations, and performative authenticity.

Kindred — by Octavia Butler

Because human memory, history, and inherited trauma cannot be automated into neat little prompts.

And if you just want to raise a sword and cut to the truth, consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea, my latest release.

Or if you are in need of laughs and inclusivity, preorder or review at NetGalley, a Deal at Dawn. Step into a cliffhanger, where the Duke of Torrance is dying to finally be a father to his daughter but he must deal her with mother, the woman who humbled him and broke his heart.

Get these books from Eagle Eye Books. They still have a few signed copies of Fire Sword and Sea.

You can also try one of my partners in the fight, bookstores large and small, who are in the trenches with me.

You can find my notes on Substack or on my website,