Me to my husband last week: I got my Amazon royalties from KU reads!

Husband: ooh yay! How much?

me: 1 cent.

The plagiarism (and related AI-generated content) discourse calls to mind the sacred bond of trust between a writer and reader—not only when money is exchanged, but perhaps doubly so, especially when that money could have been given to another, more deserving artist who didn’t resort to deceit.

I’m not only thinking of Katie Jgln , though her experience reminded me painfully of my own encounter with a plagiarist last year, but also the recent controversy surrounding Raynor Winn’s The Salt Path. Basically, the author fabricated her memoir. Some might argue that memoir is never entirely factual, and that facts aren’t the same as truth, but those who know this story are arguing that Raynor betrayed the truth of the spirit, which goes beyond just lying about facts.

In the end, I’m reminded again of how important trust is, especially in our increasingly digital world, and how easily we can lose that trust. After all, we are still searching for truth.

I guess it also goes back to caution. Knowing that charisma doesn’t mean a person is trustworthy. And it highlights the importance of real human connections, beyond metrics, beyond scalability. As nice as it is to watch the numbers climb, there’s nothing more essential than integrity and genuine bonds in this business—that indescribable moment when someone reads your words and says, “I see myself here.”

Otherwise, just let the robots replace us. We don’t deserve this space.

I met a friend of a friend yesterday who asked me what my job was.

For the first time in my life, I answered, “I’m a writer.”

When he asked where he could find my online publication, an acquaintance (whom I barely know and who doesn’t even subscribe to me) said, “You have to pay for it.”

“That’s fine,” he said, before going on my Substack.

I asked the acquaintance how she knew about my paid newsletter. She said she didn’t. “I just think writing should be paid for.”

This little interaction was so validating.

No AI will ever write as slowly as I do.

Unfortunately.

Edit: I change my mind. It’s not unfortunate, it’s human me with my human limitations—unapologetically so.

I was invisible and voiceless.

Now I write for the invisible and voiceless.

Because being seen feels like taking a deep sigh and relaxing your shoulders after holding your breath for too long.

Ai Jiang said she sent about 1500 submissions when she first started, and received almost as many rejections.

Today, she’s a Bram Stoker, Nebula, and Locus, Hugo-nominated award-winning author.

Never give up.