I, Robot

In which I am impersonated and Chat GPT rewrites one of my books. Plus a new MFA program, an update on my book ban lawsuit, a scam alert, and a deep discount on the Accountable ebook.

Recently, while walking along a narrow trail on a Greek Island, a friend asked me if I’d tried asking an AI to write “in the style of Dashka Slater.” For a moment I was at a loss for words, and not just because the trail was very steep and I was out of breath. The question felt like a door into a Black Mirror episode, one in which I discover that I am not a person but a product, a word-generating engine whose every choice can be algorithmically predicted. Little did I know what was about to unfold.

Generative AI was trained on the unauthorized use of a quarter of a million books, including at least five of mine. Did I want to know if the parasitic maw that has been feeding on my words like an engorged tick could now produce a simulacrum of the pieces of my soul it so greedily devoured? I did not. I’m happiest when I can pretend to myself that AI doesn’t exist, an illusion that is becoming more difficult all the time. The technology keeps inserting itself into my life, a dystopian default setting that I am trying, and failing, to opt out of.

Here’s an example. High school and middle school students often use AI to summarize my books instead of reading them, and then, when their teacher assigns them the task of writing to the author, they send me letters rife with AI-generated hallucinations, including quotes that aren’t from the book they are pretending to admire. I used to personally answer every piece of reader mail I received, even the ones that were obviously assigned, but lately it has occurred to me that I am laboriously replying to phantoms—to letters that were actually not written by students or, if they were, were written about a book that they had never read. I am sure there are plenty of genuine readers in there somewhere, but I have no idea how to find them.¹

Recently, I asked Chat GPT for some inspirational quotes from various characters in my book, The 57 Bus. The program was happy to oblige.

Sorry, Chat-GPT, but Debbie never said any of these things.

Every single quote it provided me, whether from Debbie, Sasha, Richard, or Jasmine, was entirely invented—a bland slogan that might have been spoken by a cardboard version of the real-life people in the book. Intrigued, I asked the AI to tell me about “Laura,” a character who is a lesbian. At first, Chat GPT told me, accurately, that The 57 Bus contains no such character. But when I asked if it was sure that there was no lesbian Laura, the AI quickly changed its tune.

It seemed Laura, despite having blinked into existence only seconds before, was also incapable of speaking in anything other than cliches. I continued to traverse this depressing path a while longer. What did Laura do for work? Chat GPT told me that Laura was a teacher, but when I suggested that maybe she worked in a bakery, it agreed that she did. At last, having precipitated a hallucination that will doubtlessly appear in a letter from a student before long, I began to wonder if anything was real at all.² Do I even exist? I decided to ask.

Well, that was a relief. I was tempted to ask Chat GPT if I would still be real if I stopped contributing to literature and journalism, but I already knew the answer. ³Better to end the conversation on a high note.

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be long before my existence would again be open to dispute. A kindly stranger contacted me via my website to tell me that he had recently received an email from someone purporting to be me.

Hello Fellow Wordsmith,

I’m Dashka Slater—author, explorer of strange truths, and occasional whisperer of stories that slip between headlines and heartbeats. You might know me from The 57 Bus ( BOOK LINK), or perhaps you’ve encountered one of my pieces in fiction, nonfiction, or that bendy in-between space where genre blurs and storytelling leads.

If you're curious, here’s where I live on Amazon:
My Author Page

But truly, enough about me. I’m reaching out because I’m always hungry to discover new voices.
What brought you to the page? What story won’t let you sleep at night?

Whether you write for children, teens, or anyone brave enough to listen I’d love to hear what you’re working on.

If you have a book link, website, or page that showcases your work, I’d be honored to explore it, amplify it, and maybe even learn from it.

Let’s celebrate the power of story—its quiet revolutions, its radical empathy, and its stubborn refusal to let us go.

With curiosity and kinship,
Dashka Slater

I do not know whether whoever wrote this email used an AI to write “in the style of Dashka Slater,” or whether they simply asked the bot to write “in the style of someone who is both pretentious and twee.” I really hope I would never do something as cringe-worthy as describing myself as a “whisperer of stories that slip between headlines and heartbeats,” but what do I know. I’m just bot food.

Curious about what this other Dashka had in mind, I had my husband send a query to the email address the scammer had used to impersonate me, asking if this was the email address for the author of Accountable.

The answer came back quickly. “Yes, it is me. How may I help you today?”

How uncanny. It sounded exactly like me! I have long made it a habit to respond to all inquiries in a similarly stilted fashion, eschewing all contractions. My literary style, now that you mention it, might be called “online customer service agent.”

My husband did not tell this Dashka Slater that she could help him by not impersonating his wife. Instead, he asked for an autographed copy of Accountable. He was greeted with Delphic silence, as befits an “explorer of strange truths.” Perhaps this other Dashka had simply been sucked into “that bendy in-between space where genre blurs and storytelling leads.” It happens. Either way, I couldn’t get over how convincing this imposter was.

I was now sorely tempted to strike up my own conversation with the alternate me, if only to learn whether how exactly the “curiosity and kinship” scam was supposed to play out. But I have books—and newsletters—to write. After all, it is only my contributions to literature and journalism that affirm my existence. Capitalism and Chat GPT agree on that point anyway.

Suffice it to say that the email address dashkaslater1@gmail.com is not mine, and I am not spamming random self-published and early-career writers with offers to promote their work.

I do, however, have some actual news of my own to share about real things that might be useful to real writers and readers. Assuming any of us still exist.

1. I am joining the faculty of a brand spanking new Master of Fine Arts program in Writing for Young Readers at the University of San Francisco and we are now accepting applications.

From Publisher’s Weekly:

Three high-profile authors have put their heads and their networks together to dream up a university program tailor-made for children’s and YA creators. Martha Brockenbrough, A.S. King, and David Macinnis Gill are launching a low-residency Master of Fine Arts in Writing for Young Readers, headquartered at the University of San Francisco. The first cohort will begin their studies in June 2026, and the application portal is open.

In addition to the three co-founders, inaugural faculty include Tracey Baptiste, Ann Dávila Cardinal, Erin Entrada Kelly, An Na, and Dashka Slater, with additional faculty coming on board in the future. Students and faculty will meet in person each June and January on the University of San Francisco campus. The rest of the time, students will work from home to complete coursework in craft and criticism. Once their two years of courses are complete, they’ll finish their degrees with a fifth residency where they present their work and co-lead a workshop with a faculty member.

Read more here.

2. Our Lawsuit Against Idaho’s SB710 has been stayed until at least November.

From Publisher’s Weekly:

Plaintiffs challenging Idaho’s book banning law, House Bill 710, in Penguin Random House et al. v. Raúl Labrador et al. filed a notice of appeal on August 21. Plaintiffs in PRH v. Labrador include the Big Five publishers, Sourcebooks, and the Authors Guild; authors John Green, Malinda Lo, and Dashka Slater; the Donnelly Public Library District in Idaho; and a teacher, two students, and two parents. They are challenging the book removals taking place under the law and the chilling effect of the legal threat to librarians and library workers.

On July 22, U.S. District Court Judge Amanda K. Brailsford stayed proceedings in the case, pending the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals’ decision in Northwest Association of Independent Schools et al. v. Raúl Labrador et al., which also concerns the constitutionality of HB 710. On August 24, the Ninth Circuit notified the parties in Northwest Independent Schools v. Labrador that it has scheduled oral arguments for November 3 in Portland, Ore., meaning that a decision in the PRH case would have to wait at least until late 2025.

HB 710, also known as the Children's School and Library Protection Act, prohibits individuals under age 18 from accessing materials containing “verbal descriptions or narrative accounts of sexual excitement, sexual content, or sado-masochistic abuse”—phrasing that, in many book banning efforts, strongly correlates with the removal of titles containing LGBTQ+ content. Echoing PRH’s successful case against Florida HB 1069, PRH v. Labrador challenges HB 710’s ambiguous definition of “sexual content,” which the plaintiffs have called “exceptionally broad, vague, and overtly discriminatory."

Read More here.

3. The Accountable E-Book Is Just 2.99 Through Sunday, August 31

Order it here, or learn more about the book, winner of the J. Anthony Lukas Book Prize and the YALSA Excellence in Nonfiction Gold Medal, here.

That’s it for now. Stay human, people.

With a sigh,

Dashka

P.S. Paid subscriptions aren’t for everyone, but if you feel like supporting what I do, you are welcome to buy me a coffee.

1. A genuine human reader, who just happens to be named Ora Flooring and Stairs, recently commented on a post in my other newsletter about making art under autocracy with this extremely human and perceptive observation, “Just like a new floor installation revitalizes and transforms a living space, art can breathe new energy and perspective into societies facing oppression. Creativity has always found a way to survive, adapt, and inspire. In many ways, it becomes a foundation for hope and resilience.” It was followed by a link to their flooring company.

2. Last night, as I was putting the finishing touches on this newsletter, I received an email from an author wanting to know why I was claiming to have co-written his book, which is called Gowns by Adrian: The MGM Years. Am I claiming to have co-written this book? No. Is my name now listed as co-author? Yes. The only explanation I could offer this author is that we live in a dystopian hellscape governed by poorly-designed technology and the humans who know where to find the off switch have simply vanished, leaving us here alone to fend for ourselves.

3. Katie JGLN has written eloquently on the current state of affairs after being plagiarized on this very platform. She begins her excellent essay with this amazing William S. Borroughs quote, “What does the money machine eat? It eats youth, spontaneity, life, beauty, and, above all, it eats creativity. It eats quality and shits quantity.”