The Sincerest Form of Flattery Doesn’t Feel Very Flattering.

Ah, summer. I can tell it is here because I am wearing a sundress, looking out the window at a bright, green world…and sitting in my office on a Saturday.
Why does my busy season, the season of looming deadlines and excessive overtime, have to coincide with the one part of the Minnesota year when it is warm enough to sit outside and read? Reading outside is my favorite activity—if I believed in an afterlife, I would hope it involved sitting on a deck with a drink in hand and a book in my lap. For eternity.

But instead here I am. Waiting for an upload to run, and thinking about plagiarism.

Someone has plagiarized my blog—a paragraph here, a (delightful, obviously) phrase there—and passed it off as her own work. At first I thought it was an honest mistake. Perhaps a certain turn of phrase stuck in her head and she used it in her entry not knowing where it was from. This has probably happened to all of us.
But no. Entire sentences, word for word, lifted from entries I wrote in 2005.

My first instinct was to hunt her down and bludgeon her with a copy of the US Code, Title 17. But I settled for eating a bagel while feeling sad and violated.
Perhaps I am being a bit silly, getting so upset about this—it was only my blog, not any publishable writing—but I can’t help myself. It makes me wonder whether keeping this website is such a good idea after all.

I cannot understand any ostensible writer who steals from another. Period. Whether the writing they steal is “worth stealing” is hardly the point. It is the lack of consideration, the crass disrespect for the person behind the work they obviously admire enough to pass off as theirs. Most perplexing, to me, is the fact that the excerpts stolen were personal, and about my infertility. Why would someone co-opt the experience of another infertile woman rather than honestly sharing her own?
The other astonishing aspect was how blatant the plagiarism is. I wasn’t trolling the web looking for people infringing upon my copyright. I found the entry in the course of surfing infertility blogs, merely by clicking a link on a blog I sometimes visit. I am astonished that the plagiarist would not expect me to find and notice the post, especially when the stolen portions were unchanged except by substituting her name for mine and her husband’s name for Scott’s. And yet I do believe that she intended to keep me from finding it. While she obviously reads my site (including my archives), she has never left a comment, and I am conspicuously absent from her blogroll—both, presumably, so that I could not follow her back to her page.
Not that I expect to be on the blogroll of all my readers, but if you like me enough to plagiarize me…well, I damn well better be getting a link, is all I’m saying.

I am not going to link to the blogger, so don’t even ask. First of all, I don’t want to embarrass her any more than necessary. And secondly, I don’t want her to stop blogging. It has been such a wonderful thing for me, this website, especially when dealing with infertility and miscarriage. I would hate to feel I had helped to deprive someone of this community.

But I’m still angry, and hurt. Feel free to tell me if I am overreacting—what would you do? How would you feel? Are we naive to expect to post our writing online without being plagiarized? Is it foolish to think that a tiny copyright notice in the sidebar will dissuade people from pseudo-literary vandalism? And then, what did you think of Hung in the Top Chef premiere: irredeemable asshole, or culinary genius?