Author Aubrey Rose wrote on her blog last week about her book City Girl, Country Wolf being plagiarised. Basically, someone went through her original story and made just enough changes to sneak past any filters and then passed it off as their own work in much the same way that schoolchildren have been ‘rogeting’ their homework assignments since the invention of Wikipedia.
My first thought on this was, naturally, “What the actual fuck?” I mean, it’s one thing to submit a half-arsed essay on oxbow lakes because you accidentally spent the evening making out with your boyfriend when you were supposed to be studying. But if you’re pulling the same shit with somebody else’s work because you want to sell books on Amazon and can’t be bothered to go through all the tedious ‘writing your own book’ business first, well that’s not on. In fact, and I don’t think I’m exaggerating here, it makes you a contemptible parasitic shitty little excuse for a person.
It’s theft, obviously. Although, if you think about it, it is a crime that can be carried out in one’s home, without any heavy lifting or need for human interaction. And that led me to my second (slightly less noble) thought: “I wonder if I could do that?”
It wouldn’t be hard would it? All I have to do is find an existing book, change the character names, a few plot details and then just keep right-clicking and selecting the ‘synonyms’ option until I get a cramp in my right arm. Then boom! Shiny new book for Amazon and I’m one step away from rolling around naked on banknotes.
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| You know when employers say “Where do you see yourself in five years time?” I just show them this picture. |
I’m going to give it a go.
For my first foray into the dark side, I have decided to use Renee Rose’s The Bossman. This is because it’s brilliant and sexy and far better than anything I could write. And if I am going to embark on a new life of criminality I want to be doing it for the right reasons – bitterness and jealousy.
The Bossman is about a massage therapist, Sophie, who embarks on a relationship with Joey, a Capo in his brother’s Mafia family despite having massive reservations about the Mafia.
Obviously, I am going to need a credible replacement for the Mafia here if my book is going to successfully fly under the radar. What’s like the Mafia? Circuses! That’ll work. Instead of being a Capo, Joey can be a clown.
Now to business. Excerpts from the original book are in blue where excerpts from my new knockoff version are in red. Just in case there’s any confusion,
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| Utterly unique. Srsly. |
In the follow scene from the original book, Sophie tells her aunt that she has been asked out on a date by Joey.
“He asked me out on a date.”
Marie gave an exaggerated gasp. “That’s wonderful! Oh he’s perfect for you, don’t you think?”
“Um…”
“He’s the brains of the family. They say he’s more of consigliere than Carlo. Don Alberto gets his advice on things first.”
“Yeah, well…” She realized she couldn’t tell Marie her reservations – that she could never be in a relationship with a mobster – without insulting Marie and her choice in her husband, Sammy. “I just don’t know if he’s my type.”
“Of course he’s your type! He’s every girl’s type. Do you think he’s too old? He can’t be more than 10 years older than you.”
Just a few minor tweaks and here’s the cunningly altered version for my book.
“He wants me to go on a date with him.”
Her aunt, the Amazing Acrobatia gave a larger-than-life intake of breath. “That’s fantastic! Oh he’s just right for you, don’t you feel?”
“Er…”
“He’s the comedian of the family. They say he’s more of a top banana than Boffo. Mr Chuckles says he does the best pratfalls and can throw a custard pie better than anyone.”
“Yes, um…” She comprehended she couldn’t inform Acrobatia of her doubts – that she could never be the girlfriend of a clown – without offending Acrobatia and her preference of spouse, Sammy Sparkles. “I just don’t know if he’s my sort.”
“Of course he’s your sort! He’s every girl’s sort. Do you think he’s too funny? He can’t be more than two times funnier than you.”
Man, this is a piece of cake. I will have a bestseller on my hands in no time. This next bit is from a scene where Joey gives Sophie her first belt spanking. Clowns don’t really wear belts of course, favouring as they do, colourful comedy suspenders. No matter, I’ve got the perfect belt substitute in mind.
Original Version:
He rubbed her swollen bottom. “Good girl,” he murmured and she ground her hips on his lap wantonly.
She needed release, desperately.
She felt him move and heard the jingle of his belt buckle and thinking he was going to give her what she wanted, tried to get off his lap. He held her fast with an arm around her waist.
“I’m going to spank you with my belt now. I want you to know what it feels like, because it’s what you’ll get if you lie to me again,” he said.
He massaged her inflamed backside. He honked his red nose and she rubbed her general lady area on his lap in a provocative manner.
She needed sexy shenanigans.
She sensed him shift and perceived with her ears, the thwap of his massive clown shoe and thinking that this was in some way a prelude to sex, tried to get down from his lap. He restrained her firmly with his upper limb around her middle area.
“I’m going to spank you with my massive clown shoe now. I want you to know what it feels like, because it’s what you’ll get if you criticise my balloon animals again.” he said.
Well, I’m on a roll here. Just a few tens of thousands words more and Etta Stark’s “The Clownman” is going to be ready for publication. A thrilling sexy tale about love in a world of custard pie and squirting flowers.
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| Yes! Wait, I mean NO! God, this is hard. |
Should I have a disclaimer here? Let’s have a disclaimer. For the avoidance of any kind of doubt, plagiarising other people’s books is DEFINITELY NOT OK. I am not really planning on releasing a counterfeit version of Renee Rose’s The Bossman. Although I may revisit the idea of clown shoe spanking because, seriously, who wasn’t turned on by that?
My existing published books are all original works in my own words. And by ‘my own words’ I don’t mean words that I created. The words already existed. The readers wouldn’t be able to understand what was going on otherwise.