The notification sound: "Exclusive Proofreading Opportunity: William Books Publishing." I remember thinking that the name sounded professional. William. Like William Morrow or William Collins. Prominent publishers sound like that, don't they? Not flashy or trying too hard.
(Image generated by Google image fx)
It was during one of the pandemic years, 2019/2020, just a normal day for me. You know how proofreading jobs were so in demand, prior to the chatGPT boom and whatnot. I remember I was wearing one of my favorite sweatshirts, gray-colored, I still have it up to this day, the one with a hole right next to the left shoulder that I kept meaning to repair but never got around to doing.
The email was neat. Professional fonts, proper spacing, no obtrusive typos. "We're a boutique publishing house introducing a bold new literary series," it said. "Your portfolio demonstrates just the attention to detail we require." They'd found my portfolio, they said. Which one? I had profiles scattered over three different freelance sites, Fiverr, Upwork, freelancer... name them.
The pay was what sent my dopamine levels off the charts and through the roof, perhaps that's why I did not sit down to rationalize, I strongly doubt I was even thinking at all. Sixty dollars a manuscript; three times more than any other job I'd ever accepted before that. "Upon completion of the full batch," they wrote, "we'll process payment through PayPal." Batch? That should have made me concerned, but I was already calculating in future tenses. Five manuscripts would be three hundred dollars. Ten - six hundred dollars. I went on like that, then convert to Nigerian naira?? please! I was on my way to being a big boy.
I remember the excitement felt dangerous. Like when you're going down stairs in the dark and you misjudge the last step, that stomach drop sensation before your foot lands on solid ground. But this time my foot landed on air.
The first manuscript arrived as a .doc document. 20,000 words or so from one person's novel about... what was it? A detective in a small town in Georgia? A woman at home? The plot is shifting in my mind, probably because I read so many novels with such similar plots that year. They all blurred together: loss, secrets, redemption, small towns with dark cores.
I leaped in. God, I leaped in. Up till 2 AM, 3 AM, going over inconsistencies and forced dialogues. The name of the title character flipped back and forth between Sarah and Sara. The weather would alternate between rain and snow half-way through the chapter. Basic mistakes, the kind that make you wonder if anyone had taken the time to read the thing before submitting it.
But that was reasonable. Most of my clients turned in first drafts. I was used to fighting the tide of bad writing, fixing what could be fixed, making what couldn't be marked. This felt real. Too sloppy, but real.
My contact was Jennifer Walsh. Or Walsh Jennifer. The name is reversed in my mind now, but it didn't occur to me then to wonder. She responded quickly to my questions, always professional and polite. "Thank you for your diligence," she'd tell me. "The author will be thrilled with these changes."
The second manuscript came a week after. Then a third. Then a fourth. I started seeing a kind of pattern, the same clunky sentence structures, same character tropes, plot points, as if copied and pasted from manuscript to manuscript. But I told myself that's just how small presses are. Small budgets, same readership, house style leanings.
I was eating noodles most of the nights, stretching my coffee pods. The marketing agencies had cut their copywriting budgets. Everyone was waiting for things to go back to the way they were.
So when the pay email finally appeared in my inbox, I clicked on it so fast that I nearly spilled my coffee cup. The PayPal receipt glowed on my screen. Proper format, official-fonted text, my name spelled correctly. A Very paypal-ly $1,200.
Twelve hundred dollars. I stared at that figure until it started to feel strange, like when you repeat a word so many times it becomes meaningless. Twelve. Hundred. Dollars.
It did feel off, though, like completely off. Like when you're jogging and your shoe is loose but you don't know if you imagined it. Maybe because I got no notification from my PayPal app.
I have no idea if I was driven by curiosity or merely skepticism, I automatically moved my cursor over the sender's email address. paypal [email protected].
And I was like... Gmail?? PayPal was sending me official payment confirmations through... Gmail?
I'd never really paid attention to what PayPal email addresses were like before. But Gmail? That did not sound. no, that was wrong. PayPal would have their own domain, wouldn't they? Paypal.com or something? I checked anyway and confirmed.
I felt this cold feeling running through my heart and stomach, a very sick kind of feeling. But I didn't let it bother me. Maybe I was overthinking. Maybe PayPal outsourced some of their--
Then came another email. "Your PayPal account is under some restrictions. Contact PayPal Resolution Center immediately at [email protected] for emergency assistance."
Gmail?? Again?!
And that's when the glittering started coming off, slowly, piece by piece, like cheap nail polish. PayPal Resolution Center @Gmail. PayPal transactions @Gmail. William Books Publishing with no website, no physical address, no telephone number. Jennifer Walsh who always replied in hours but never answered directly regarding timeliness or company history.
I sat there staring at my computer screen, as if I was seeing myself from outside my own body. All those nights. All those hours. All that meticulous labor; rewriting paragraphs, fact-checking historical data, researching proper use of commas in dialogue tagging.
For what? For nothing. For deception dressed up in official-sounding jargon and professional-looking word processor templates.
The worst part wasn't even the money. I literally felt so dumb. How desperate I must have appeared to them, some freelancer desperate enough to work for weeks unpaid, trusting enough to believe that a "boutique publishing house" would find my portfolio amidst thousands and declare me to be precisely what they were seeking.
I closed my laptop. I remember that moment almost exactly. I didn't reply to Jennifer. Didn't demand my money or say I was going to report them or send furious emails demanding to be told what was happening. Why bother? They'd probably moved on to the next bunch of freelancers, sending the same polite messages, making the same promises.
I couldn't even figure out what their exact scheme was. Were those manuscripts true or false? Did they really need my service? Or was it simply groundwork for something further down the line? I had no clue.
But I learned. Good God, did I learn. No more working for free. No more clients without verified business locations or information.
And verifying email addresses nowadays? That's an automatic process for me. Every single time.
Posted using Neoxian City
Wow how cruel can people be, you shouldn't make someone work so hard and not pay his/her wage, that's not fair at all
Experience, they say, is the best teacher.
I'm kinda grateful it happened. Now I'm smarter.
Thanks for stopping by.
My pleasure 💯
Indeed from your username, you write gan. Your command of words and phrases and typology(if I know what I'm saying) is terrific.
Eg–"Like when you're jogging and your shoe is loose but you don't know if you imagined it."
One will just be smiling and reading. When I look at the year you spoke of doing that proofreading job, then you be boss o(you're a boss amongst us).
I sha think that you could include include inverted commas whenever you quote yourself or someone else.
On the experience, very appalling indeed, I hope such kind of people get caught and apprehended.
Thanks for sharing and what a writer you are. You keep the audience engaged, many times spell bound by your artistry with words.
Regards
Thank you so much for this kind and thoughtful comment. I really appreciate it. 😊
I’m especially glad you pointed out that line about jogging with a loose shoe; I wanted to capture that strange mix of uncertainty and instinct, and it’s really nice to know it landed well with you!
About the inverted commas; I actually do use quotation marks when quoting emails and actual dialogue, but I totally understand if some parts blended into the flow. I tend to write my thoughts and reflections directly into the narrative, since it’s first-person and meant to feel more conversational. So I usually don’t quote my own thoughts unless there’s a specific reason to. But your point is a helpful one, and I’ll definitely stay mindful of clarity in future pieces.
And haa, about that proofreading gig, thank you o, but make una no hype me too much 😅. That was just after secondary school, before I even got admission. I was really just starting out and trying things. We thank God for growth!
Thanks again for reading and sharing your thoughts.
Hi, yeah exactly that's the message the jogging thing pushed out.
And yeah your piece was engaging, as you wrote your thoughts directly into it. So it may not be a rule to enclose such in inverted commas afterall. Well from my entry in this prompt, it's easy to see I'm new here, so there are stuff to learn. I have picked this one.
Oh just after secondary school? I thought it's way after your secondary school. But you still be the boss. Me, just after sec school, I never thought of writing but Engineering.—infact I told the story in the very last non-fiction prompt here
It's a bold starting-out you did back then and it shows in your writing today. I know you want to stay grounded and grow more, please do. I just have to admire what I like🤷♀️
All the very best
Aww, thank you so much! 😊
I really appreciate how open and thoughtful your responses are, and I love that you’re already reflecting and picking things up here. That’s honestly what this space is about. We’re all learning as we go, and even the tiniest exchanges help sharpen us.
Haha, yes oo.. It was literally that period between WAEC and uni, I was just eager to do something that felt meaningful. It was bold and naive in equal measure, but I’m glad I tried. And look at you now; Engineer turned storyteller? That’s a combo I’d love to read more about. I’ll definitely go look for that piece you mentioned!
Thank you again for the encouragement. It really means a lot. And don’t worry, I’m taking things step by step, staying grounded, and growing slow and steady.
Wishing you all the best in your own journey too..
Thanks. Well just my way. Exactly the tiniest exchanges can do a whole lot of good. So thoughts don't have to be enclosed in inverted commas right?
Yeah you were bold, the naive part is understandable, as a new kid on the block. For me,that's my pig flying experience– Engineer turned story teller(erm, in training).
My pleasure, to express my thoughts on what I like and yep it shows, your desire to keep improving. Brilliant!
Thanks for the kind wishes.
Yeah, not necessarily.