In Another Universe, an open letter to Addison Scott

Dear Addison,

Welcome to the ranks of the despised, the few, the plagiarists. Rather, I shouldn't be welcoming you to the group, because you've been a thief since the first moment you clicked 'paste'.

We all don't need to tell you how incredibly dirty your actions were. You knew what you were doing, hence the boring covers you fabricated (or had fabricated for you), and the gender switches you pulled in order to canvas--poorly--what you were doing.

What I'd like to address is how you made those authors feel when they saw their titles under your name.

I know two of these authors personally. One is a very close friend, and another is an acquaintance that I follow and talk to once in a while. Both of them are amazing. They put the blood, sweat and tears into their books that I, and the rest of us in the book world, know you couldn't possibly put in.

What I wanted to do by writing this was less to address your actions, or even condemn them, it was to put you directly into their shoes.

You see, I'm a believer of the Multiverse Theory. Just in case you don't know (or can't deduce from the context) what that means, I'll insert Wikipedia's definition of it (<--- that's what's called attribution by the way). 'The multiverse is a hypothetical set of infinite or finite possible universes that together comprise everything that exists: the entirety of space, time, matter, and energy as well as physical laws and constants that describe them.'

I firmly believe, that in another universe, you're the one who had your original work stolen. You are the one who put in the hours, rewrote your book, cried over heartbreaking plots, felt the tug on your heartstrings as your characters lost loved ones or grew as people. You are the one now sitting in front of your computer screen, viciously fighting a battle you shouldn't have to fight to make sure people know that your work is yours. You are the one so incensed that you're shaking. You're the one bereft of words when e-tailers scramble to figure out how this happened, and leave you with more questions than answers.

But in this other universe, you're also the one surrounded by warmth and militant support of an Indie community that welcomes you with open arms, that respects you and loves you for all the hard work you've done. In this other universe, you're going to pick yourself up and do what's right for you and for your books. In this other universe, you understand that books aren't just books, they're portals into your imagination. They're surgically removed parts of your soul that have been converted into paper and ink. Other times, these pieces don't go quietly, they have to be ripped out of you with the force of a hurricane. If you're one of the half-gifted writers, it's an intense hunger that wrings the words out of you, because without writing there can be no sanity.

Unfortunately for you--and us--we live in this universe, in one where you can't possibly comprehend what it's like to actually write a book, to actually be truly creative.

That's the first reason I pity you, Addison (which I'm sure isn't even really your name).

The second reason I pity you, is because there's a glimmer of a chance that you might have had dreams once of becoming a writer, perhaps a bestseller. We all start out with those virgin thoughts. Then hard, cold reality sets in, and we realize we have to sell our skin just to get the least bit of notoriety. I'm sure you wake up every day, you look in the mirror, and you wonder where those dreams went. You wonder how you got to the point of hating your own writing so much that you figured the only way to succeed was to burgle.

Everyone else will recover. There might be litigation. People will rally support. E-tailers will remove your false listings. You'll continue to look in the mirror and feel the emptiness of being a thief, to never truly feel the honesty of writing your own story, one you own without shame. Everyone else will grow and become stronger from this experience, while you learn nothing, likely feel nothing, and remain stagnant.

The sad part is, in the end, you'll likely trash this pen name, create a new one, and keep on stealing.

And if that is your decision, I hope we find you again. I hope we destroy you again. I hope we can make you feel the smallest sliver of remorse for the pain you've put those authors through.

I hope justice is served.

- V