Scamson Ultimate

I was sure the scam had peaked with 'Michael A Marvellous', but then came 'Samson Ultimate'.

You might just about buy 'Samson Ultimate' as a long-forgotten streetwise superhero from the forgotten end of Marvel Comics' 1970s output. But as a name for a nerdy marketing maven with his nose in a pile of books? 'Samson Ultimate' just doesn't cut it, does it?

Let's rewind a little. It all began in March with an email from the more demurely-monikered 'Juliet Collins'. Juliet contacted me via my website to congratulate me on 'End of a Century' – which would have been nice, if only she hadn't been so creepily over-effusive about it.

The book was 'refreshingly original and emotionally resonant', she said. 'It’s clear you have a unique voice and a strong grasp of both heart and structure, and I truly admire the literary and emotional threads you weave throughout your narratives.'

And then came the sales pitch. As 'a marketing consultant specializing in author visibility and book promotion', Juliet could do all kinds of remarkable things on every available book-rating site to make 'End of a Century' the massive, world-demolishing success it deserved to be. The cost for this remarkable service remained – and remains – a mystery, as every single bell, whistle and klaxon on my 'scam alert' machinery had already gone off at around 'emotionally resonant'.

I'm not a natural fit for these kinds of scams, being a) naturally sceptical, and b) supernaturally tight-fisted when it comes to my hard-earned cash.

So Juliet lay, neglected, in my junk folder until, just a day later, she was joined by the charmingly-named 'Lois J Nutt', then a week later by 'Dee French' and 'Anna Rose'. Soon thereafter, the Bell sisters, 'Juliana' and 'Rose' (separate emails) joined the crew, followed by 'Binette Mary', 'Gloria Manns', 'Madison Brooks' and 'Michelle Hebdrix', who appeared to be having trouble spelling her own name.

It was all beginning to feel a bit like I was being joined by the cast of 1994 game 'Fighting Baseball', which was populated by digital players given names the Japanese producers thought sounded a bit like real Americans – 'Bobson Dugnutt' being the star of the show (you can read all about that here).

All of these ladies had two things in common: Names which sounded a bit like but also uncannily unlike real names, and a queasy line in AI-inflected unconvincing praise.

Samson, mightiest of the scammers

'Your storytelling perfectly captures that bittersweet tension between clinging to the past and embracing the present, gushed 'Gloria'. 'Your blend of Britpop nostalgia, heartfelt romance, and Scottish charm in End of a century is absolutely magnetic,' burbled 'Madison'.

And then along came the feisty crew, spearheaded by 'Amelia Olivia'. 'You had no right to write a love story that made me want to dig out my old mixtapes, cry over a suit, and question my entire relationship with nostalgia,' she accused. 'And now I’m staring at a 4.7-star masterpiece with only 33 reviews? Oh no, sir. That simply will not do,' she declared, totally inventing an imaginary number of reviews.

'Sharon S Lessard' continued in this vein, wanting to know if she could tell her massive network of absolutely real and not in any way imaginary reviewers all about my books 'or should I go back to yelling at my houseplants about how underrated your writing is?'

At this point, it's worth mentioning that I keep a close eye on my website stats. I have a good idea where my audience is, and where interest in my books is strongest. It's certainly not in Nigeria, from whence a sudden spike in visitors came, coinciding precisely with the arrival of these missives from Madison, Gloria, Dee and all of their AI chums, none of whom received even a whisper of a reply from me.

Nice try, 'Michael'.

That's when they brought out the big guns. I mean, there's no way a book marketing expert called 'Michael A Marvellous' could be anything other than both entirely real and jaw-droppingly splendid, could there? If you want to make a massive impact in the book world, who else could come to your rescue but 'Samson Ultimate'? And who else could possibly be more embedded in the world of books than 'Harper Collinsworth'?

Seriously, they tried 'Harper Collinsworth'. This is the most transparent, shoddy scam I've ever seen, but I'm sure it still works on some poor souls.

There are plenty of writers toiling away out there, desperate for a break or a sliver of recognition. An unexpected email bringing praise and the promise of a huge, appreciative audience? That's got to be tempting to someone, especially if they're more pure-at-heart, unworldly and trusting than me. It's a scummy trick, trying to fleece these people out of their money for non-existent or sub-standard marketing services.

Basically, anyone who shows interest is immediately sucked into a scam which will see them shelling out for nothing at all. I pitched in with a few minor contributions to this excellent post on the ever-vigilant Writer Beware site, which reveals the full workings of the scam, and points out its major flaw: The names may be silly, the praise suspiciously fulsome, but it's the scale and persistence of the approach which undermines the scam. They might fool someone with one email. But a flood of them, every day? That's going to raise even the most trusting set of eyebrows.

Sorry, Samson. The game's up.