Posted in Romance on August 12th, 2011 by Cynthia Eden

(Thank you SO much to the kind folks who alerted me to this situation.)

I’m being plagiarized. It sucks.

I’m not just talking some similarities in a plot line (that can happen). We’ve all read our share of books with similar story lines. I’m talking about word for word plagiarism of DEADLY HEAT.

I was alerted that a person using the online name of Misconception76 had posted a story called The Devil’s Dance on fanfiction.net. (Here’s a link for you: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7129614/1/The_Devils_Dance). At the beginning of her work, she includes this disclaimer:

“The Twilight Series character names belong to Stephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.”

You see, she’s renamed my characters Edward & Bella. My SSD Agent Kenton–he’s Edward. My tough female firefighter? She’s Bella.

She changes the names, acknowledges that she’s using them from the Twlight books, and then Misconception76 goes ahead to use my entire Deadly Heat story. She changes the POV (using “I” instead of 3rd person), but everything else is the same. For pages and pages and pages.

She adds comments at the beginning and end of each chapter–talking about how hard it is to write. How the characters can be difficult.

And she steals my work.

Let me just say this–I want readers to like my stories. I want them to care about my characters. To talk about the plots and twists and love relationships.

What I don’t want? For someone to steal my work and act like I don’t exist.

I work hard on my writing. I often go to bed long past midnight because I’m up pounding out stories. I miss sleep. I miss family functions. I live and breathe my stories.

Please don’t steal them from me.

If you want to be a writer, then be a writer. Use your own imagination and write your own stories. Don’t lie and act like something is yours when you’ve just taken the EXACT words from someone else.

Please, don’t plagiarize me.

Update:

I realize that some folks who haven’t read my work are coming to the site to check out this story. Some may not believe me when I talk about this plagiarism situation. (After all, if you haven’t read my work, how can you be sure? Makes sense.) So I wanted to share a small excerpt from my published book, DEADLY HEAT, with you:

Choosing to run into a burning building probably wasn’t the smartest decision he’d ever made. Then again, sadly, it wasn’t his dumbest either.

Kenton Lake choked in a deep breath of air—already tasted the smoke–then lifted his arm over his mouth. Some jobs just sucked.

He went into the wall of smoke. Ah, hell.

His nostrils burned. Heat scored his flesh, but he heard the voice calling, the same voice that had lured him to the building, lured him across the street and into this inferno.

“H-help! Dammit—h-help me!”

His informer. Upstairs. In the middle of the flames and fury.

He jerked off his jacket, covered his mouth, and tried to stay as low to the floor as he could.

His eyes burned, and the ash and fire singed his nostrils. How the hell had this happened? He was investigating arson, not supposed to get drawn into—

Part of the ceiling fell behind him.

Kenton glared up at the long row of stairs. Ten-to-one odds they’d fall away before he got to the top.

Ten to one.

“H-help…”

Weaker.

He took the stairs. One. Two. Three.

And, yep, they gave way just when he reached stair number four. Kenton went down, hard. The broken wood bit into his arms and legs, and the fire flew toward him.

A blast of water shot out, hard and fast, slamming into the flames.

Someone grabbed him, hauled him up, and a hand locked tight around his arm. Kenton found himself staring right at a firefighter.

He caught a smoky glimpse of narrowed eyes behind a clear eye shield. Kenton had a fast impression of a thick, black helmet and a brown uniform—

The firefighter shoved him forward, obviously trying to send him toward the front of the building.

Hell, no.

More firefighters swarmed around him, battling the fire. Some struck out with axes, some scrambled into the rooms.

Couldn’t they hear the voice calling for help?

He tried to break free and jump for those stairs. There was a gap, he could make it, he might—

The firefighter who’d grabbed him before dragged him right back and gave a hard negative shake of that black helmet.

Screw that, he wasn’t leaving a victim behind—

He wrenched away.

Then the firefighter slugged him. Hard. Right in his jaw. Damn, one hell of a hit.

Kenton went down.

The firefighter’s arms wrapped around him. Another grabbed him. Another.

Then they dragged his ass out of the flames.

***

And here’s the material that Misconception76 posted on FanFiction.net:

~Edward~

Choosing to run into a burning building probably wasn’t the smartest decision I’d ever made. Then again, sadly, it wasn’t my dumbest either.

I choked in a deep breath of air – already tasted the smoke – then lifted my arm over my mouth. Some jobs just sucked.

I went into the wall of smoke. Ah, hell.

My nostrils burned. Heat scored my flesh, but I heard the voice calling, the same voice that had lured me to the building, lured me across the street and into this inferno.

“H-help! Dammit, h-help me!”

My informer. Upstairs. In the middle of the flames and fury.

I jerked off my jacket, covered my mouth, and tried to stay as low to the floor as I could.

My eyes burned, and the ash and fire singed my nostrils. How the hell had this happened? I was investigating arson, not supposed to get drawn into–

Part of the ceiling fell behind me.

I glared up at the long row of stairs. Ten-to-one odds they’d fall away before I got to the top.

Ten-to-one.

“H-help…”

Weaker.

I took the stairs. One. Two. Three.

And, yep, they gave way just when I reached stair number four. I went down, hard. The broken wood bit into my arms and legs, and the fire flew toward me.

A blast of water shot out, hard and fast, slamming into the flames.

Someone grabbed me, hauled me up, and a hand locked tight around my arm. I found himself staring right at a firefighter.

I caught a smoky glimpse of narrowed eyes behind a clear eye shield. I had a fast impression of a thick, black helmet and a brown uniform–

The firefighter shoved me forward, obviously trying to send me toward the front of the building.

Hell, no.

More firefighters swarmed around me, battling the fire. Some struck out with axes, some scrambled into the rooms.

Couldn’t they hear the voice calling for help?

I tried to break free and jump for those stairs. There was a gap, I could make it, I might–

The firefighter who’d grabbed me before dragged me right back and gave a hard negative shake of that black helmet.

Screw that, I wasn’t leaving a victim behind–

I wrenched away.

Then the firefighter slugged me. Hard. Right in my jaw. Damn, one hell of a hit.

I went down.

The firefighter’s arms wrapped around me. Another grabbed me. Another.

Then they dragged my ass out of the flames.

***

See what I’m talking about? And she does this for my entire book. On Twitter, Evening_Shadow recommended that I tell people how to report The Devil’s Dance as abuse. View the material at: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7129614/2/The_Devils_Dance, and click on the drop-down menu in the lower left-hand corner of the screen. Then just select the “Report Possible Abuse” and click “Go”. Hopefully, if enough people report this, The Devil’s Dance will be removed.

Thank you.

This entry was posted on Friday, August 12th, 2011 at 9:47 pm and is filed under Romance. You can follow any comments to this entry through the RSS feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.