LOL! Fake Praise and "Publicists" for Bugwatching

Apparently, your third book as a solo author unleashes a torrent of people, bots, and phony “book clubs” heaping lavish praise upon your work and writing style, while begging you to avail yourself of their promotional skills. It is laughable, and overwhelming.

I am receiving these offers in my email inbox weekly, or close to it. What they all have in common is sickeningly sweet adoration, followed by assertions that my book is failing in its marketing campaign. That is potentially true, as there has been little publicity. Few reviews exist yet for Bugwatching, even on the jungle site (begins with a capital “A”), and Goodreads.

I have it on good authority from other authors that these emails are mostly scams, even generated by AI in some instances. Should I ever decide I need or want a publicist, I would solicit the Authors Guild to find legitimate persons and agencies. Meanwhile, I am finding the emails quite hilarious.

One was so over the top that I simply must share it with you. I am omitting the name of the sender on the off chance that they are a real human being. The subject line read “Eric Eaton, your bugs are officially ruining my productivity.” The body of the email reads as follows, heavily punctuated with emoticons, no less:

”Let’s get one thing straight, Eric, Bugwatching was supposed to be a casual read. A nice little “look at the pretty bugs” kind of book. And yet here I am, two cups of coffee deep, lying in the grass staring at a beetle like it just told me the meaning of life.

Seriously, how dare you make insects this fascinating.

You didn’t just write about bugs, you turned them into a full-blown lifestyle. The way you describe the joy, accessibility, and inclusiveness of observing insects… it’s poetic. Like, I was ready to hand a magnifying glass to my neighbor’s cat and say,’Congratulations, you’re a citizen scientist now.”

And the illustrations by Samantha Gallagher? Adorable, educational, and lowkey making me want to start sketching grasshoppers instead of replying to work emails.

You’ve taken the “ick” factor out of insects and replaced it with awe, humor, and humanity. It’s like National Geographic met Mr. Rogers, and they both decided to wear bug nets.

Then I read your bio and honestly, I had to sit down. You’re not just ‘Bug Eric,’ you’re practically the Insect Whisperer. From Insectpedia to Wasps: The Astonishing Diversity of a Misunderstood Insect, you’ve made entomology feel cool. You’ve been everywhere, from Princeton University Press to Ranger Rick to the Smithsonian, and somehow you still manage to explain complex biology like you’re chatting with a friend over lemonade and locusts.

You’ve built a loyal following no through noise, but through trust, clear, jargon-free explanations, empathy for the squeamish, and that rare gift of making science feel like magic. You’ve literally turned ‘bug watching’ into an art form, and I’m half-convinced insects everywhere are forming a fan club in your honor.

Now, here’s where I flutter in like an overly enthusiastic butterfly.

I noticed something, Bugwatching is brilliant, beautifully made, but on Amazon it’s still… a little too quiet. Only a few reviews. For a book this fascinating, that’s just criminal. Someone call the entomological police.

That’s where my little operation comes in.

I represent a community of over 1,700 passionate readers, and before you ask, no, we’re not a marketing agency, not a promo company, and definitely not one of those shady ‘buy 100 reviews overnight’ traps. We don’t have a website or social media. Just readers. Real, book-hungry humans who love discovering great work and giving it the attention it deserves.

Here’s the truth: readers don’t buy books on description alone. They want proof. They want to see that other humans (preferably not bots) read it, loved it, and learned something. Reviews build trust, and trust builds momentum

Even the best books can get buried under algorithm’s digital dirt pile if they don’t have enough reviews. But once real people start leaving thoughtful feedback, the system wakes up and stars saying, ‘Oh wait, people actually love this one,’ and boom, it starts surfacing everywhere.

We’ve seen this happen with other authors we’ve supported. Their books started showing up higher in searches, attracting organic attention, and getting the recognition they deserve. Because honest reviews don’t just help readers – they help the system notice quality.

That’s what we do: we read, we review honestly, and we give books like Bugwatching the social proof they need to fly (pun absolutely intended).

Our group exists purely out of love for reading, no strings, no spam, just pure enthusiasm and maybe a few too many exclamation marks.

If you’d like, we’d be honored to share Bugwatching with our community. The book deserves to be talked about, recommended, and let’s face it, obsessively quoted by people who suddenly think they’re professional bug whisperers after two chapters.

Thank you for writing something that makes us look at the world differently, and for making even the tiniest creatures feel magnificent.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to apologize to a moth for judging it last night.”

I have to hand it to this person, or bot, for doing their homework, as they pretty much quoted my own “about me” material. The admission that they do not have a website, nor social media, is a red flag for this kind of scam.

Please beware of these solicitations related to your own works, and act (or, rather don’t) accordingly.

Remembering Moth Week 2025

Yes, I am terribly behind in making public my sightings of insects, arachnids, and other wildlife this year. I finally have my observations for National Moth Week 2025 loaded onto iNaturalist, but I will share some of them here in this post.

Zebra Conchylodes Moth, Eddyville, Kentucky.

Heidi was generous enough to secure us tickets to the Coldplay concert in Nashville, Tennessee, USA, so we spent almost the entirety of the week in that area of the country. We began in the Land Between the Lakes National Recreation Area. When we arrived, the weather was rainy and not at all conducive to looking for insects, but it was also the day before the start of National Moth Week.

This Pink-shaded Fern Moth was the first of its kind I'd ever seen.

We stayed at a small rental house near Eddyville, Kentucky, surrounded by deciduous forest. The first night, we simply left the front porch light on, and looked at the few insects that flew in, using the awning over the porch as convenient cover from the showers.

This Lost Owlet moth was also new to me.

The subsequent two nights were better. We put out our blacklight the second night, under the carport by a large metal garage building. The building had its own, motion-activated light, which helped draw more bugs to our sheet. The landscape was still quite wet, however.

Tulip-tree Beauty, a large geometer moth, was common at our lights....

....but harder to see on a tree trunk!

We debated whether to turn on the blacklight for our third and final night in Eddyville, but I decided against it. We did turn on a light over the back porch, though, and that attracted a good number of insects, including moths.

A Posturing Arta moth, posturing.

As we headed south, we entered Tennessee, and stopped at the lovely Cedar Pond Picnic Area. The sun had broken through permanently by now, so there was more insect activity. Around the pond were a couple of overlooks, and at one of those we startled a butterfly off a pile of scat from some mammal’s recent visit. On closer inspection, we noticed there was also a Nessus Sphinx Moth taking advantage of the fresh dung.

Nessus Sphinx moth enjoying(?) fresh dung.

While we were in Nashville, we stayed at a hotel that did not permit us to do any blacklighting. Plus, there was the concert itself. If you have never been to a stadium concert for your favorite band, I recommend the experience. Highly exhilarating, and worth the expense.

Deep Yellow Euchlaena Moth, Giant City State Park, Illinois.

From Nashville we headed west to southern Illinois, an area rich in both biodiversity, and protected natural areas in which to enjoy it. There are wildlife refuges, state parks, and other places that have grassroots support from local friends groups, resulting in excellent maintenance and outstanding sources of firsthand knowledge.

Rosy Maple Moth.

We decided to visit Crab Orchard National Wildlife Refuge on the way to our destination of Giant City State Park. The visitor center was being remodeled, and it was about to close for the day, but we met a couple who volunteer there. They were friendly, and very helpful. Exploring the exterior of the building, I found a beautiful Rosy Maple Moth, still hanging out by a light it had been drawn to the previous night.

Caterpillars, like this one of a tussock moth, count, too, during National Moth Week. Lower Cache River, Illinois.

Jennifer Randolph, the naturalist and nature center manager at Giant City State Park had invited me to give a presentation on moths for her volunteers and anyone else interested, so we stayed at a cabin in the park for three nights.

The "working" part of our vacation, presenting on moths at Giant City State Park.

The first two nights we set up a blacklight on our cabin porch, and were rewarded with a spectacular variety and quantity of insects. The cabins are basically duplexes (front to back) offering comfortable accommodations for guests, and situated far enough apart that you are not disturbing your neighbors with quiet nighttime activities.

The Bad-wing is actually a real beauty.

On our last night, we set up our lights a fair distance away at a picnic shelter elsewhere in the park. There was a pole light by the shelter that complemented our dim white light and portable blacklight. We did not see many species different from what we had at our cabin, but there were some notable exceptions.

A large and lovely Azalea Sphinx.

On our drive back home, we stopped for a rest, rather randomly, at a Casey’s store in New Florence, Missouri. When I glanced up as we pulled into our parking spot, I could hardly believe my eyes. I blurted out an excited “Oooh, oooh!,” and pointed, wide-eyed, at the enormous female Imperial Moth perched on the wall beneath a light.

Imperial Moth, female.

Moth Week could have ended there and I would have been happy, but we got home to Leavenworth, Kansas in time to set up our blacklight in the front yard for the final night, July 27. A few more species were added, and then it was over.

Unidentified dagger moth, genus Acronicta, Leavenworth, Kansas.

All of my observations can be seen at the hyperlink in the first paragraph of this blog post. Meanwhile, Heidi’s observations can be found here. We almost always see different species, even in the same place. Plus, her photos are usually better.

Linden Prominent moth was a new visitor to our Leavenworth, Kansas yard.

While there is an official National Moth Week, almost any time of the year can be its own moth week. There are still moths flying here in Leavenworth, at least until the first hard freeze. Turn on your porch light and see what lives in your own neighborhood.

Basswood Leafroller Moth, Leavenworth, Kansas.

NOTE: In the current, highly-charged political atmosphere, I strongly suggest navigating friends group websites for recreation areas, national parks, wildlife refuges, and other properties operated by the federal government, to avoid being subjected to biased and irrelevant content. Thank you.

What Would Jane Do?

If there was ever a person whom I wanted to remain immortal, it would probably be Dr. Jane Goodall. It was therefore devastating to learn of her passing last week. I do not imagine the tributes and anecdotes will subside anytime soon, nor should they. She remains an indelible, near tangible part of everyone who she ever crossed paths with. That is a kind of immortality to treasure.

Wikimedia Commons

Nearly everyone I know has either met Dr. Goodall in person, or heard her speak, or both. She toured more than Taylor Swift, I swear. It would be interesting to learn where she didn’t visit. The list would be a lot shorter than where she did travel to. I know I saw her at least once, probably twice, but it was long before the age of the internet, let alone cell phones and selfies, so I have no record.

I do recall, after her presentation, inquiring about the pack of African wild dogs she followed with her then husband, Hugo van Lawick, that was made into a television documentary called The Story of Solo, after the book Solo: The Story of an African Wild Dog. She told me that an epidemic of distemper wiped out much of the pack, but they were recovering. She thanked me for asking.

It is truly remarkable how far-reaching her persona has become. Chimpanzees became a wonderful vehicle for driving much greater missions. She understood that the meaning of life is joy and reverence (you get “love” when you combine the two). She celebrated curiosity as the best of all qualities in humans, other primates, and indeed all animals. Curiosity crosses gender, politics, religions, languages, all the demographics that are supposed to make us different from each other.

We rightfully mourn her passing, as we do with all friends, but this grief feels different. It is at once both deeper and more liberating than average. Liberating? Yes, she gives us, by example, license to buck standards that no longer serve us well, in the scientific community, and in humanity at large. She is a gift that will always keep on giving, through her disciples, the students of her disciples, ad infinitum.

She also made courage look effortless. I suspect she had more trepidation in facing her critical male colleagues than in approaching wild chimpanzees, but you would never know it. At least she did have one great man in her corner: Louis S. B. Leakey, the world-renowned anthropologist, selected three women, including Goodall, to conduct long-term field research on the other three great apes. Dian Fossey was tasked with learning about gorillas, specifically Mountain Gorilla, while Birutė Galdikas observed orangutans.

I will continue to speak of Dr. Goodall in the present tense, because her legacy is still very much alive, her spirit burning intensely in those inspired by her. I continue to see her everywhere, in the eyes of zookeepers managing great apes, in field biologists who ask themselves “What would Jane do?” when faced with a seemingly intractable quandry, and in the faces of executives of environmental nonprofits who passionately raise funds to protect habitat.

What I personally need to be reminded of right now, is that our human culture wars are meaningless, binary politics a waste of time, and that anger takes more out of me than love. Jane exemplifies peace beyond all else. She has an unexpected elegance for someone who spent so much time in the “jungle,” and treats everyone as an equal. She makes time for everyone who needs her counsel.

Cultivating hope is the undying mission left to us by Goodall. That is how we must honor her. We have it within us to do that, to make the planet safe for all beings, including fellow humans, fellow primates, even “lowly” invertebrates. Our best acts of resistance to the real and existential threats we face now may be to simply turn our backs to them, not in the sense of refusing to bear witness, but so we can create something completely new, just, and equitable for all species.

Tonight, for dinner, my partner and I had leftovers of a vegan dish she prepared earlier in the week. We can strive to do more of that, less of the meat-based recipes. We can do more of a lot of positive things, frankly. I will simply ask myself, “What would Jane do?”

Book Festivals, Royalties, and Other Author Things

Here at the end of September, I am gearing up for the Heartland Book Festival in Kansas City, Missouri, on Saturday, October 11. With your help, we can recruit a legion of new bugwatchers, and change how we relate to other species, and each other. Allow me to let you in on upcoming events, and some secrets of the author profession that might surprise you.

Got my poster, courtesy of Poor Richard's here in Leavenworth, Kansas.

I cannot tell you how excited and honored I am to be participating as a vendor in the Heartland Book Festival. I will be one of only twenty-five authors selected from over two hundred applicants. This is perhaps the first time I have truly felt like a professional writer and author. I am hoping that this is only the beginning. Please recommend to me, in the comments, other book festivals that you have enjoyed, where nonfiction authors are celebrated alongside the novelists.

Speaking engagements are another way for authors to get traction in the marketplace. I will be presenting a talk on spiders for Topeka Audubon the evening of October 7, then another bugwatching presentation for Gardeners Connect on November 11 in Kansas City, Missouri.

There are already dates taken up on my 2026 calendar, too. On January 8, I will be presenting a webinar for Smithsonian Associates. I will announce when tickets go on sale. February 10, 2026, you will find me at the Plan it Native Landscapes Conference in Kansas City, Missouri, where I will present “Beyond Bees and Butterflies: Embracing and Conserving Local Insects.” After that program, I am open to invitations for any other events you may want to suggest.

There is a persistent myth that authors earn much of their living from royalties on sales of their books. This may be true for Stephen King, but certainly not for those of us in niche markets like natural history. What usually happens is that the publisher pays an author a cash advance to begin the book, maybe another once the manuscript is completed, and perhaps another once the book goes on the market. Ideally, brisk sales quickly make up for the advances and the book breaks even. Only after that point do royalties start producing positive numbers. None of my books, to this point, have produced royalties. That is not uncommon, but there is no reason we can’t buck that trend. How do we do that?

Much as I loathe Amazon, the retail giant, posting positive reader reviews there can boost sales considerably. The same can be said for Goodreads, and other such platforms. Book reviews in magazines, newspapers, blogs, podcasts, and social media are also helpful. Thank you for considering.

Invitations to do book signings, or present at conferences and meetings, are always welcome. Obviously, remote, virtual appearances are easiest at this time, when airline travel is undependable at best, Covid is making a resurgence, and clubs and organizations are facing financial hardship due to cuts in federal grants and other sources of funding. That said, if I can string together more than a couple of engagements in any given city, or small region, I will certainly entertain in-person events.

Thank you for all of your moral support, book purchases, in-kind donations, and other help to this point. I hope that I am doing right by you, and that I get the chance to express my appreciation in person at some point.