Hello! Welcome to my newsletter for July/August 2020.
We watch as lockdowns are loosened then locked again. Dave and I are staying cautious. We've learned careful habits. I think we still need them.
Dave is now a dab hand with hair dye.
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Last month I made the eyepopping discovery that one of my Nail Your Novel books has been copied, word for word, and sold as part of an online course.
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I've since found that IP theft is a massive problem for indie authors. Several told me they've had whole books and courses copied and put on sale. They send a takedown notice, but often the plagiarist starts a new site and carries on. There's little the author can do because they don't have a publisher.
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I've been lucky, though. I found a lawyer who said my case was so solid that he'd write the necessary letter without charging me.
I sent my evidence.
Enormous relief and gratitude.
And anxiety.
I've never set a lawyer on anybody before.
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Late at night, I'm seized by doubts. What have I started? What if I've made a mistake? I boot the computer to recheck. Compare their text and mine. Is it really a verbatim swipe?
Yes, it is. Totally.
But I now understand why victims of crime might, in spite of everything, start to doubt a thing they know is true.
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In the midst of this, Wordpress tells me my blog has been namechecked on another site. How nice. I pop over.
No. It's one of my posts, lifted from my blog in its entirety.
What?
I send a stiff email. And a note on the site's contact form. And, to show I mean business, a direct message on Twitter. Is this now my world? Chasing people who steal my work?
Next morning, a reply. Apologies, I'd better look into this.
Later: I have information that may help. I dug through my files and found you gave permission on May 15 2015. Please see the email thread. I sometimes repost, but if you'd like me to take it down...
Oh red, red face. Though perhaps I can be excused for not remembering an email conversation from five years ago.
I apologise lavishly. Explain. I still manage to sound like I am blaming him, when really I am scolding the unprincipled ratbags who think it's okay to take an author's work. I write another email, calmer, thanking him for being a decent internet citizen.
I guess it's the strain.
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I confess to Dave.
'I've done that kind of thing,' he says, and I'm surprised, because he always seems much wiser than me.
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