The most unethical practice in publishing

What is the most unethical practice in publishing? There are plenty to choose from, from scammy, predatory publishers (not all publishers! just scammy, predatory ones) to the zillions of businesses popping up like dandelions to profit off authors without adding any value, to publishers that want to profit off authors and readers without adding much actual value–e.g., minimal editing, minimal marketing, no willingness to invest in an author’s career. (Again, I’m not talking about all publishers here.) But the most unethical practice in the publishing industry puts these to shame.

But before I do the big reveal: This post is part of the Insecure Writers Support Group (IWSG) blog hop. On the first Wednesday of every month, we IWSG-ers share our doubts, fears, struggles, and triumphs. Our awesome co-hosts this month are Ronel Janse van Vuuren, Natalie Aguirre, Sarah – The Faux Fountain Pen, and Olga Godim. Each month our fearless leader (Ninja Captain Alex J. Cavanaugh) gives us an optional question to answer. This month’s question is, What is the most unethical practice in the publishing industry?

What is the most unethical practice in publishing?

The most unethical practice in the publishing industry is selling AI-generated books. I’m an academic librarian in my non-author life, and I just learned from colleagues that some of the books they ordered for their libraries–from traditional, commercial publishers–turned out to be AI-generated. This is disgusting. I know self-publishing is the Wild West (though self-publishing AI-generated slop is also unethical), but we count on traditional publishers to perform their gatekeeping functions and prevent this kind of garbage from clogging the market. If publishers aren’t going to ensure the very bare minimum of quality control, they have no right to make money off authors, libraries, and readers.

Unlike some of my fellow authors, I believe there is a place for AI in our world; in fact, I wrote a post last year on the topic, Two ways fiction writers can use AI ethically. (And I made a promise to expand on that post, which I still haven’t done. And I’m not going to do it here. Bad blogger!) But I think the way to do that is summed up nicely in this meme, recycled from my previous post:

Real writing by real humans has the power to change hearts and minds and therefore the world. We must not surrender it to soulless algorithms.

North to Alaska!

And now for something completely different. By the time you read this, I will be on a ship in Alaska. Long-Suffering Husband and I are taking an 11-night cruise from San Francisco to Ketchikan, Juneau, and Haines, with a half day cruising Endicott Arm and a stop in Victoria, BC on the way home. It’ll be his first cruise and my first since I was in college. It’s a bucket list trip for us and a reward for surviving the last year-plus of major life events: new chronic illnesses, new job (for me), moving to a new state, and selling and buying a house. Yes, all of those except the first are good things, but they are also exhausting things, and we are exhausted.

Because I’m a reader, writer, and librarian, I often read books before big trips that relate in some way to the place I’m going to visit. I just finished Heather Lende’s wonderful, If You Lived Here, I’d Know Your Name: News from Small-Town Alaska. Lende writes obituaries for the newspaper in Haines, AK, and also writes for NPR and some larger newspapers–while raising 5 or 6 children (I lost count) in Haines (pop.: 1657, not counting the bears). She’s written several books about life in Haines. This one is a collection of essays that captures, with simplicity and warmth, the feel of living in this tiny, isolated place.

We scheduled our cruise around my work commitments and some other life things rather than choosing it for the itinerary. I wanted to go to Glacier Bay. I wanted to go to Skagway. I’d never heard of Haines, and when I looked at the shore excursions, they were underwhelming. But, hey, the pictures were gorgeous, and I can always find something fun to do in a new place.

Then I read Lende’s book. Her stories made me fall in love with a place I’ve never been and with people I’ve never met. Now Haines is the port I’m most excited about, and I want to visit the local lumberyard just because her family owns it. This, folks, is the power of great writing–it makes people want to visit lumberyards on vacation.

Seriously, her essays really did make me excited to visit Haines. We’re skipping the shore excursions and renting a car so we can drive part of the Haines Highway and visit lakes and beaches that are not full of cruise ship passengers. Maybe we’ll stop at a market, buy a loaf of bread and some peanut butter and jelly and have a simple picnic on a beach or lakeshore–and hope the local grizzly population doesn’t decide to give up salmon for PB&J.

And this is why we must never let AI take the place of human storytelling. An algorithm could never capture the voice of an old man in a tiny Alaskan town as he prepares to leave this world, surrounded by family and a place that captured his heart decades ago. An algorithm could never capture the terror of young parents driving 200 miles of icy highway with their sick child in the back seat. And an algorithm could never make a California-born, self-avowed winter wimp look up real estate prices in Haines, AK, before ever setting foot in the place.

It is our humanity, with all its flaws and failings and biases and passions, that make us able to tell stories that move people, that open their eyes to new places and possibilities or that just take them away for a few hours of immersion in someone else’s drama. No algorithm can do that, and we should never settle for a weak, soulless imitation.

The memery

I’m still slogging through editing Delta Dawn (pretty sure I’ll be saying that on my deathbed; if I move to Haines, Heather Lende can write about it), so this month’s memes resonate with me:

Except for the gender and cigarette, totally me.

I’ll be fixing plot holes till I’m lowered into a hole.

And on that happy note: Happy IWSG Day! I like to imagine I’ll be sitting in a cozy nook on the ship with my laptop, happily editing my magnum opus. In reality, I’ll probably be gorging myself at the buffet like a grizzly during the fall salmon run, then passing out in a food coma till we reach port.