Fake Author Plague

 

One day, I got a follower on Twitter. Whenever I get followers, I check them out, and if they look genuine, I follow back. Sadly, those sexy profiles who are calling me sexy are bots. I know that because I can’t be that sexy.

Anyway, this one is from an author. I created Twitter to market my book. Obviously, I fail to do that because I don’t want to flood others’ feeds with unsolicited advertisements. I only mention my books when it feels natural and fits into the topic, which is not often. Fortunately, while starting as a miserable existence, I enjoy Twitter now because I get to connect with authors and readers. So, imagine my delight that this follow came from a well-established author—or so it seemed.

With a lot of books and an avatar with a face (I don’t even have that!), she has an underwhelming number of followers ratio. It didn’t flinch me at all because I know how sucky it could be to exist on social media. I followed back, and ding, a few seconds later, there was a DM from her. Wait, what? I get to chat with a famous author? She has many successful books with more than thousands of ratings while I almost sold my left toe to get one review. It started with a simple ‘Hello.’

At that time, I had these influxes of book marketers pestering me to use their service by flooding my DM without bothering to check on my work. The process was similar: they followed, and I followed back; since they were not sexy bots (I was a sweet summer child), I thought they were genuine users who were there for their businesses. (After all, I am, too!). However, a second later, I'd get a DM. They would then ask questions about what kind of books I wrote, etc., mostly things they could find out by checking my profile if they really cared. Of course, they didn’t. I assume they use algorithms or some kind of premade responses because if I engaged with them, the conversation would feel weird yet not totally detached. If you watch any video about scam baiters, these are similar kinds of conversations: trying to sound interested, but the conversation is all over the place unless they offer their services.

Anyway, I eagerly wrote back to reply to her hello, and with my gullible behind, I also included ‘I am so glad you are a real author. I was afraid this was a DM from another persistent marketer. I had too many of them lately’. She lol-ed and proceeded to ask what I wrote (fair enough btw, but I assume one would check before initiating contact, just like when I checked her profile and books before even following back). I answered and complimented her books (which indeed look impressive) and where she was from (Japan, a country with many things I’m impressed with). She replied, although she sounded a bit odd (again, detached but trying to keep me on), and gave me links to her book, throwing hints about how awesome they were. It went on for a bit.

Okay, I started to feel weird and unnatural. The conversations are mostly one-sided, and I felt like we were talking about different things that reset every time she DM-ed. So, like the civilized anti-social ahole I am, I spaced out and stopped responding. Nothing happened for a few days, and then it started again. ‘Hello.’ I recognized this pattern with all the marketers and shady characters who had DM-ed me. The conversation with the fake Japanese author probably took longer than usual because imagine being fake and my first conversation was, 'I am glad you are not fake.' They had to attempt to recover from that first, which also makes me think, most likely, that these fakers are mixtures of bots and humans.

During this time, there were more and more posts on Twitter from genuine authors about fake authors. These fakers personate famous/successful authors, even adopting their links, bios, and avatars. They then initiate chats with unknown authors like me. What is the purpose? Apparently, they will offer their services (I am not even sure) because they are awesome and successful, and we suck, basically, so we have to 'learn' from them. This sounds idiotic and obvious, but sadly, most authors appreciate others' input, and we didn't think there would be fake authors out there for this purpose. We are also over the moon thinking successful authors are engaging with us. Look, I worship no one, but I would probably shake in my boots if I had that kind of connection. I haven’t experienced it that far, but some authors said these fakers would go on to criticize and berate their work ‘nicely’ about their covers, statistics, sales, marketing efforts, etc, and that we are in dire need of advice. It might sound trivial, but most of the time, we question ourselves and our books daily. Most of us are treading on shaky foundations because it’s hard to justify doing this. We don’t need these craps.

Since then, I have ignored all similar DMs, especially from those who would DM in seconds after I followed back (marketers, fake authors and artists are flooding Twitter now). This industry continues to amaze me because I thought struggling authors were already at the bottom of the barrel, yet there are elaborate scammers out there still. Dang it.

Fortunately, after a long drought, I got a wonderful review about my book, The Bet of the Monsters. It gives me the spark to remember I should never give up. To think that there is someone who likes my book besides me is exhilarating, especially when they really understand my story.

Review for The Bet of the Monsters

As always, thank you for being here. I hope that for every doubt you have about what you do, there is something that will restore your faith.

BOOK REVIEW: Black Hole Radio (Furilani) by Ann Birdgenaw

 

3.5 out of 5

I was hoping to read some deeper character developments or improvements to the main storyline; after all, this is the fifth book I have read in the series. However, everyone remains the same, and the plot remains the same: little mentions about the characters’ school lives, sucked into the black hole radio, meeting alien species, bad ugly, good cute, and characters do some elaborate things to save the oppressed aliens, all the while barely have any sense of danger or worries, and everything always goes in their way, regardless of how elaborate the challenges and threats they face. I also have more struggle to like the characters; they still feel detached and annoying at times, and the implication of cheating in their sports game is a bit hard to brush off.

However, maybe I’m reading and wanting it to be a more mature book that doesn’t simplify issues that much, and that must be the wrong way of reading it because this book is definitely not intended for me. Most likely, the target audience would like it the way it is. Furilani is a fast-read, entertaining book, with the idea of sploot being the winner. I like their uniqueness and their camouflage ability. Besides that, world-building is creative and fun.

The main storyline is for the characters to take pity and try to free these sploots, who have become merely fashion, hanging onto the owners as part of accessories. Although thankfully, they don’t have to be dead for that. I feel that with this plot, a big loophole hasn’t been answered. For their ability and intelligence, it becomes questionable why sploots can’t save themselves because they are clearly very capable of doing so. Something is missing about why they ‘oblige’ when they can easily escape. It doesn’t have to be extravagant; maybe the bad guy has some other control over them instead of just questionable physical control. In that way, the ending would work better, that the sploots want to entertain, not have to, and maybe they can still become ‘fashion’ by being happy pets and bring out the colors without being forced because, after all, the evil characters and community changing their minds, habits, and cultures over a parade is just too magical.

One Resilient Boy With a Cool Scar

I guess I forgot to update here, so I will consolidate my posts into one.

One and a half months ago, after going back and forth, getting my hope up and down and delays because of my own problem, it was confirmed that my dog Locky had to be operated to remove tumors on his head and below his left eye. We were worried about the one in the head because it was growing, and the size was significant. Tumor, as scary as it sounds, is the term given for every unusual growth; it could be benign or malignant.

It was an emotionally exhausting day, but we came home together. Locky has kidney issues, irregular heartbeat, and reverse sneezing (while all these don’t give him troubles, they increase his risk significantly in how he would respond to anesthetic); it didn’t help that several dogs we knew didn’t wake up from the anesthetic. So, those couple of months had driven me crazy, and the possibility of him not coming home with me after the operation paralyzed me with fear. 

Thankfully, here he was.

The recovery was challenging, especially for him, since he had to wear a big cone, and I can imagine the pain and discomfort. The stitches were scary, and after changing the dressing the bandage didn’t stay because his hair had started to grow, so I had to improvise a bandana. Most day, I needed to redress his wound twice daily. Above all, the waiting time for the biopsy result was terrifying.

However, the little guy was resilient and in high spirit, and endured all those processes. Look at his smile!

Finally, we got the result about two weeks ago, one month after the operation. It’s benign! It’s such great news. I can’t express how much it means to me. The test took very long because they needed to add a more advanced process, using specific ‘coloring’ because it was hard to detect some cells without that (a direct translation, I know nothing), which of course, didn’t help my anxiety.

And a week ago, he is out on the beach again!

At first, he couldn’t play in the water and had to be kept on leash.

But now, he is free again, rocking a cool scar and a biggest smile.

Life is good again.

I have forgotten how I used to live my life before him. He is my sunshine.

Another Spooky Tale for Halloween

 

Something terrifying is happening to me right now: my book sales have been flatlining for quite a while. I have no one to blame but myself because I suck in getting them out there. I'm not a fan of advertisements, so I also don't wish to subject others to advertisements about my books, and that earned me virtual smacks from several online acquaintances who tried their best not to yell at me, "How do you sell anything if you never tell anyone?"

Okay, I tell people through this newsletter. I am sorry you are the unlucky lots, but I feel safe hiding here. I almost always put my books down there after you are sick of scrolling unless I have a new book coming up or a promotion, which hardly crossed my mind. Not because I am stingy, but because I am really bad at this marketing stuff.

So here we go; I am trying and sorry for this!

Get In Ora for 0.99 on 1st & 2nd November 2024ZC1RM

Now that we've got it out of the way, in the spirit of October and the actual day of Halloween, as promised, I am here to share another creepy real story. This was told by my dad.

My dad worked in remote, untouched jungles from when he was a teenager until his forties. Yes, he was barely there during my childhood. I remember thinking, 'Hey, this stranger is very nice to me', not registering that he was my dad during one of his rare times at home, but he worked hard to provide for us. He is the best dad, and he has a lot of stories to share about his time in the jungle. While those stories are weird, they are 'normal,' about his work conditions, wild animals they encountered, the exploration of untouched areas, etc. He is a very honest person; I don't remember him telling a lie to me or anyone; he is the kind of person who would rather not answer you instead of lying, even for fun purposes.

So, this one story of his sent a shiver down our spines when he told us. It didn't help that he was also visibly uncomfortable, something I rarely witnessed. You must have heard some permutations of this in movies or fiction before, but this happened to my dad.

It took place in our small town in west Borneo near noon time during his walk (it was normal to walk around, not every place was reachable by public transportation), he came across an acquaintance who was also walking somewhere across the street, so my dad called him up. It was someone he knew quite well, and Dad wanted to check on him, knowing the person (let's call him John) had some ongoing health issue. So, Dad asked if John was feeling better, and John answered something along the lines of "It's fine," although it was not straightforward because he seemed distracted. It's like when you talk to a person whose mind is somewhere else, but he is still able to hold the conversation. They talked for a while, and Dad got the sense that John might be in a hurry because now he realized there was someone standing a distance away, and he was waiting for John.

According to Dad, the waiting man was unremarkable; nothing stood out or memorable; he couldn't even remember his face and the man never said anything. Thinking of nothing, Dad ended the conversation and let John go. John walked up to the person waiting, and they both walked away together while Dad made his way home.

On that very same day, he heard the news that John had passed away, but it didn't add up because John had passed since morning, and Dad met him around noon, a couple of hours after that. However, his family was with him, and they all confirmed the time and the fact that John had never left the house.

I hardly think about it, but for some, they continue to look for answers about the afterlife and what will happen after we take our last breaths. Does this mean we at least have someone to guide us? Is he some kind of grim reaper or just someone to show the way? I don't know, I am not really curious about afterlife. For Dad, he always wonders what would happen if he didn't let John go or insisted on having a cup of coffee or bringing him back to his home? I guess we'll never know. It has never happened again, but this story is embedded forever in our minds.

There you go, enjoy the spooky spooky for those who celebrate it. I'll eat some candy bars as a form of solidarity.

Do You Have Spooky Tales?

This is not Locky trying to be spooky. He just tested if he was big enough to cover my TV (15inch monitor). Why do other things when you have a dog, right?

It’s October. I don’t celebrate Halloween, it’s not something common where I am. Yes, the cinemas here are populated by horror movies, but that is common all year round. What’s up with that? I guess the market is good, and most probably, horror movies require smaller budgets. Make everything dark, there are many settings that already look scary, adapt local urban legends and true terrifying stories, make it even darker; the recipe for good profit margins is there. I have only watched a few horror movies in my life, but this is not my opinion only because I have heard other similar inputs: Indonesia and generally Asian horror movies are the scariest horrors.

To be fair, Indonesia is very mystical. We have plenty of scary beings. I’m not sure what to call that, but there are many creatures out there with A LOT of eyewitnesses. There are many jungles and unexplored places. I have heard actual scary tales from my friends, my dad, and people I trust and witnessed weird stuff myself.

The ones I witnessed were ‘indirect.’ Back then, I went on many camping trips, from junior high school to university. They were not those fun camping, but we went to remote areas to learn about survivalism, explorations, and expeditions. The most modernized gadgets we had were magnetic compasses; I am not even sure it’s easy to find one now. We relied on paper maps (if any) and almost no communication methods. On more proper and bigger scale explorations, the organizer would have walkie-talkies, but that was all.

I witnessed on three separate occasions of my fellow campers being ‘possessed.’ I wasn’t sure what they did; we didn’t go around and disturb old burials or anything, although we came across them on some trips. Our activities were educational and responsible, and everyone I knew held up to those values. I still remember some of the mottos: kill nothing but time, take nothing by pictures or keep nothing but memories, and leave nothing but footprints. We were not those hippies, Instagram nuts nowadays who climbed Balinese sacred mountain, went butt-naked on the peak, posted on social media, and were deported for it. Idiots. Disrespectful idiots.

However, it happened. I didn’t get too close to them, but it was surreal to witness. I could see the physical transformations, no, not those elaboration movie styles, but the people possessed looked different. They screamed, they cursed, and their eyes went wild, bulging and sometimes red. They were unrecognizable, and their facial expressions were intense, not those we normally see unless we go to extreme lengths to make faces, and even so, it would not be easy to duplicate. One looked extremely angry, while the other was confused and wailing; one had to be held down because he started to destroy things. The weird similarity, fortunately, was that they were all staying in relatively the same area, as they didn’t go around, go wild, actively attack people, harm themselves, or go missing. On these occasions, the organizers would seclude the rest of us in a distance while a team of them would try to calm, negotiate, talk, and maybe pray. All of us would stay in silence and just hoped it would pass soon. It could take some time and even hours, but eventually, the person would pass out and wake up with no memory of what had happened. Fortunately, no one was harmed on these occasions, but it could be traumatizing. 

My first experience was when I was just fourteen, and one of my schoolmates was up there on the table with contorted bodies, screaming in a language no one understood, and it happened subsequently to multiple other students. It didn’t help there was a storm that night, and we had to huddle together in some old abandoned school (maybe that was why?) Almost every student was crying, traumatized, and swore off similar activities. I’m also not sure if those organizers prepared for those kinds of events; I wouldn’t be surprised if they did. I was always a participant only in those bigger groups.

It might sound unbelievable; there might have been another explanation for why these people were going berserk. I keep my mind open, but from my experiences, it looked pretty legit to respect and maintain my peace.

In university, I joined an outdoor organization where the explorations went to even more remote areas. We were all students just doing our outdoor hobbies and some social work. Here, I was taught not to leave my mind empty because it would be easier to ‘occupy’ (not a problem for me because that nosy brain never stops talking); we had to respect everything and excuse ourselves when we entered strange/remote/abandoned areas. To my amazement, everything went smoothly. I never had scary incidents except for one questionable expedition. It was the smallest group I had been in, five of us climbing a stratovolcano mountain. Nothing spooky, actually, just weird. I saw a cat that night when we camped near the peak. Not a mountain cat, cougar, or whatever wild cat, but a black house cat. This was not a popular mountain, and it was the year 1997; we were the only one there and had to open our own trail, so it was a relatively untouched mountain. Is it weird to see a house cat there? I don’t know. I also heard regular wave-crashing-the-shore sounds, and we were very high (2800+ meters/9200+ feet), but I tried not to think about it and went on to sleep well.

There was a legend out there, which we obviously didn’t comply that we should always have an even number (for small groups) because otherwise, something would even it out for you. Maybe that was the purpose of the cat?

Those are spooky October stories for you. I have more but I don’t want to blabber too much.

I hope you are well over there, wherever you are. Whatever struggles, sorrows, or hardships you are trying to overcome, I am rooting for you to win the battle. Don't give up.

Take care, and thanks for being here, as always.

It Has Been A While

 

It has been a while. I was away for a family reunion and had an unexpected health issue that required hospitalization, but it’s all well now.

Before they knew what to do with me, I was put in a big room and wheeled here and there with many other patients. The room was full, filled with beds in every corner; some were even put in the middle. We never stayed in the same spot, they would take us to the X-ray room, Ultrasound, blood test, this corner for picture taking, and other corners for questioning, insurance, making sure you pay, interrogation, confession, presentation for your appliances’ expired warranty, etc. So, every staff member was busy and it was not easy to even ask for a pillow.  It was an A&E area where I had a chance to observe human vulnerability.

Obviously, due to the nature of hospitals, we are reminded about how dependent we are on all these technologies and other human beings during sickness. The feeling of being completely in others’ mercy, skills, and knowledge is humbling. I have watched too many true crimes and documentaries about how easy it is for people in the medical field to harm or mess up, but those didn’t bother me that day.

It was more about what I witnessed. I saw all kinds of people in one of their most vulnerable conditions. We wore ill-fitting issued clothes, and we were like lost puppies looking at the staff, trying to catch what they were whispering about, decipher the displays on the monitor, interpreting the hmm and the nods or head shakings, the dread of finding what made you there, the hope pairing with the anxiety of getting your turn, and the constant beeps of everything around. Many elderly were distraught and kept looking for their loved ones, mainly their children; some couldn’t even communicate.

It’s heartbreaking to witness the helplessness and vulnerability, and how amazing it is to see a face I am familiar with, my rock even when I am strong.

Oh well, I always think we are created with too many flaws, but someone would whack my head and say that makes us human. Whatever it is, I wish you all strength and happiness.

My schedule is messed up now, and I would need more time to prepare for my new book. However, your holiday is over! I am here to ramble again. Thank you for being here.

PNW Affliction I: Recycled

 

This is probably the first time I've read something in this format. The story picks up quickly, and I appreciate the author's backstories and explanations; they help when you read this book as a standalone.

We follow the main character, who sometimes talks to readers throughout the night. He is caught in an unfortunate situation and has to spend the night outside his home, trying to survive, which is the book's whole premise.

I wish to know the character and the plot better. I know bits and pieces of what the MC is like from how he looks at things, which is interesting, but I don't know the motivation and his actual purpose yet. I would love to better understand why someone like him, who is resourceful, fearless, and seems very logical, feels the need to spend the night out there, risking frostbite, instead of going home, somewhere nearby. I believe there will be more justifications to help me understand his choice in the subsequent books. It would be nice to have a clearer indication if the group he meets at the end is the perpetrator of the first incident or, at least, if it's related. It seems like he has another suspicion for another group of people.

Multiple scenes make me hopeful about the possibility of this turning into something epic (like the card), and everything is done for a reason. The ending opens the potential for more stories and answers to all questions. This book One feels a bit incomplete, but it starts well and captivates me to the end. It is easy to read, I like the writing style, the character is thought-provoking with many indications about the intriguing past that shaped him into what he is now. I like every detail, and this deserves a more complete assessment, so I'll read the follow-up book and return to this review.