Mark Dawson Is A Plagiarist UPDATE

A few months ago, I made a post about Mark Dawson’s alleged plagiarism which really seemed to resonate with people. I have a lot of people asking me for updates on the original post, but that post being so old now, very few people actually see the edits I make, so I wanted to make a new post to share the new developments on the case.

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Since my last post, Mark Dawson’s Self Publishing Formula put out a statement saying that it was rebranding to Learn Self Publishing and that Mark was “taking the rebrand as an opportunity to take a step back.”

Here’s what the old site looks like: [https://selfpublishingformula.com](https://selfpublishingformula.com)

And here’s what the new site looks like: [https://learn.selfpublishingformula.com/courses](https://learn.selfpublishingformula.com/courses)

His face and name are obviously now far less prominent.

Also, many of the links to his books on Hachette no longer work (in addition to being self-published on Amazon, he apparently also has a trad publishing deal with Welbeck which is owned by Hachette)

[https://www.hachette.co.uk/titles/mark-dawson-2/ghosts/9781787397651/](https://www.hachette.co.uk/titles/mark-dawson-2/ghosts/9781787397651/) and [https://www.hachette.co.uk/titles/mark-dawson-2/the-driver/9781787397057/](https://www.hachette.co.uk/titles/mark-dawson-2/the-driver/9781787397057/) and [https://www.hachette.co.uk/titles/mark-dawson-2/the-house-in-the-woods/9781802795837/](https://www.hachette.co.uk/titles/mark-dawson-2/the-house-in-the-woods/9781802795837/) and [https://www.hachette.co.uk/titles/mark-dawson-2/the-red-room/9781802795882/](https://www.hachette.co.uk/titles/mark-dawson-2/the-red-room/9781802795882/) all seem to bring up a page that says “Oops! That Page Can’t Be Found.”

However, [https://www.hachette.co.uk/titles/mark-dawson-2/saint-death/9781787394780/](https://www.hachette.co.uk/titles/mark-dawson-2/saint-death/9781787394780/) is still available, despite Saint Death having a lot of evident plagiarism within.

On top of that, Mark still has a new book Bloodlands coming out on May 1, 2024, and I do fear that many of his readers haven’t been reached by the post and will still preorder it without knowing about any of his infractions. He’s done a great job at keeping quiet to try to avoid any serious fallout from his actions.

If you were still unsure if he was a plagiarist or not, here are some excerpts that you can still see in his novels on Kindle right now:

* \[2013 William Boyd interviews James Bond by William Boyd from the Guardian\] I looked at the bookcases, vaguely surprised to see so many books, always a clue to a personality. They were an odd mixture: books on bridge and golf; many novels by Eric Ambler; Graham Greene’s The Heart of the Matter. Some books on heraldry and The Collected Poems of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Most unusual. I pulled it out to look at the cover. Several pages had their corners turned down. I slipped it back into its slot on the shelf.
* \[The Driver by Mark Dawson, Location 1065 of 4018\] Milton looked at the bookcase, vaguely surprised to see so many books, always a clue to a personality. They were an odd mixture: books on astrology and make-up, novels by Suzanne Collins and Stephanie Meyer. Some books on fashion. The Collected Poems of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Milton pulled it out to look at the cover. Several pages had their corners turned down. Not what he would have expected to find. He slipped it back into its slot on the shelf.

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* \[2013 William Boyd interviews James Bond by William Boyd from the Guardian\] Lightly tanned, he was slim, about my height, six feet one inch, and had short dark hair with no trace of grey. I knew people would ask me to describe him with more precision. There was a scar on his right cheek. He was even-featured – though there was something “hard” about his looks. \[…\] He could look almost swarthy in certain lights and had a clean, sharply defined jawline.
* \[91% of Kindle sample The Driver by Mark Dawson (Location 441 of 4018)\] He had short dark hair with a little grey. There was a scar on his face, running horizontally from his ear lobe, across his cheek, and terminating just below his right nostril. He was even-featured although there was something ‘hard’ about his looks. He looked almost swarthy in certain lights and, now that he had shaved away the untidy beard that he had sported while he travelled north through South America, his clean, square, sharply defined jaw line was exposed.

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He did change this next one from “peanut breath” to “you taste of venison” though, so there’s that.

* \[Out of Sight by Elmore Leonard\] He said because it would be worth the risk. She said, “You like taking risks,” touching his face with her hand, then kissed him, very gently, and said, “So do I, peanut breath.” He felt her fingers brush through his hair as she kissed him again, still gently, and it was hard—aware of her scent, remembering it—it was hard to keep from eating her up. He put his arms around her, feeling her slim body in his hands, and she brushed his mouth with hers, saying, “What’s the hurry, Jack? You have to be somewhere?”
* \[Current version of The Sword of God, at Location 1868 of 5748 in Kindle\] She said, “I don’t believe you,” touching his cheek with her fingers, then kissed him, and said, laughing, “You taste of venison.” She reached around to the back of his head as she kissed him again, a little more firmly, and he had to tell himself to wait. Her lips tasted sweet and her small, slim body felt good against him. He put his arms around her, drawing her even closer, feeling her body in his hands, and she touched his lips with hers. “What’s the big secret, John? What happened to you?”

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This one’s also a little close for comfort, though he did change “seeing her close from behind as they climbed the grade” to “watching her from behind as they were climbing the ridge,” so credit where credit is due.

* \[Out of Sight by Elmore Leonard\] Last night and all day today Foley kept seeing her in different ways: in the headlights before putting her in the trunk, her face up close, when she came out of the trunk showing her legs and when she stood there in the road, her body in profile, her nice tight rear end in that short skirt; and seeing her close from behind as they climbed the grade. Those pictures of her kept popping into his head and he would take his time looking at them. He never thought of her in a sexual way, like picturing her naked or wondering what her bush looked like. He would remember the feel of her, though, his hand on her arm, on her thigh with her skirt pushed up. He could hear her voice, too, saying, “Why, are you famous?” Saying, “Are you kidding?” And coming out of the trunk, “You win, Jack.” That was his favorite. “You win, Jack.” He played that one over and over.
* \[The Sword of God (Location 1655 of 5748)\] He kept seeing her in different ways: lying in the tent last night, the firelight dancing in her eyes; her face up close, the freckles that you couldn’t see unless you were really looking hard; the way she eyeballed him when he hauled himself out of the lake; the way her chest filled her shirt when she worked the straps of her pack over her shoulders; and watching her from behind as they were climbing the ridge. Those images kept popping into his head, one after another, distracting him, when he needed to keep his focus clear. He dismissed them, but then he would remember the way that her hand had felt in his, the warmth of her body as he had reached down to drag her up the slippery scree. He heard her voice, too, the confident tone, the attitude that almost dared him to argue with her. The way she had said, “I’m staying right here,” as he prepared the camp for the night yesterday, the way she’d said it and the way she’d looked at him, making him think that she was inviting him to take her to his tent. He heard that again and again and wondered what would have happened if he had made a pass at her.

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* \[Top 10 traditional pubs in Ireland by Turtle Bunbury for The Guardian\] The room is loosely carved into a warren of snugs and seating areas by dint of wooden partitions and stand-alone walls seemingly crafted from old biscuit tin lids and dismantled clocks. \[…\] Generous tongue-and-groove snugs run along one wall.
* \[New version of Salvation Row at Location 217 of 5109 (also at 30% of Kindle sample)\] The wide space was divided into a warren of tongue-and-groove snugs and seating areas, thanks to wooden partitions and stand-alone walls.

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* \[Top 10 traditional pubs in Ireland by Turtle Bunbury for The Guardian\] The pub is effectively a large wooden cavern, softly lit by lamps that hang from a ceiling held up by metal beams.
* \[New version of Salvation Row, Location 217 of 5109\] The bar was lit by lamps that hung from the ceiling.

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* \[Top 10 traditional pubs in Ireland by Turtle Bunbury for The Guardian\] Rattan stools wait along a counter of solid oak that runs the length of the right-hand wall, broken midway by an arch.
* \[Salvation Row, Location 217 of 5109\] Rattan stools were placed along a counter of solid oak that ran the entire length of the rear wall, broken by an arch that led through to a snug.

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This one is LONG, but here are the bullet points to look out for first:

* “They went to the floor.” versus “Milton stumbled backwards, and they went to the floor.”
* “The deputy was trying to get his hands inside the chain but he could not.” versus “The man was trying to get his hands inside Milton’s arm, but he could not.”
* “He was gurgling and bleeding from the mouth. He was strangling on his own blood.” versus “He was gurgling, a line of blood trickling from his mouth. He was choking on his own blood.”

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* \[NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN Page 5\] He dropped his cuffed hands over the deputy’s head and leaped into the air and slammed both knees against the back of the deputy’s neck and hauled back on the chain. They went to the floor. The deputy was trying to get his hands inside the chain but he could not. Chigurh lay there pulling back on the bracelets with his knees between his arms and his face averted. The deputy was flailing wildly and he’d begun to walk sideways over the floor in a circle, kicking over the wastebasket, kicking the chair across the room. He kicked shut the door and he wrapped the throwrug in a wad about them. He was gurgling and bleeding from the mouth. He was strangling on his own blood. Chigurh only hauled the harder. The nickelplated cuffs bit to the bone. The deputy’s right carotid artery burst and a jet of blood shot across the room and hit the wall and ran down it. The deputy’s legs slowed and then stopped. He lay jerking. Then he stopped moving altogether. Chigurh lay breathing quietly, holding him. When he got up he took the keys from the deputy’s belt and released himself and put the deputy’s revolver in the waistband of his trousers and went into the bathroom. He ran cold water over his wrists until they stopped bleeding and he tore strips from a handtowel with his teeth and wrapped his wrists and went back into the office. He sat on the desk and fastened the toweling with tape from a dispenser, studying the dead man gaping up from the floor. When he was done he got the deputy’s wallet out of his pocket and took the money and put it in the pocket of his shirt and dropped the wallet to the floor. Then he picked up his airtank and the stungun and walked out the door and got into the deputy’s car and started the engine and backed around and pulled out and headed up the road.
* \[Saint Death by Mark Dawson, Current Kindle version (Location 1617 of 3396)\] Milton snaked his right arm around the man’s throat and started to squeeze. The man struggled, got his legs up, and kicked off the wall. Milton stumbled backwards, and they went to the floor. The man was trying to get his hands inside Milton’s arm, but he could not. Milton squeezed, the man’s throat constricted in the nook of his arm. He braced his left arm vertically against the right, his right hand clasped around his left bicep, and he pulled back with that, too, tightening his grip all the time, his face turned away. The man was panicking, his arms windmilling, legs kicking out, treading dusty prints up the kitchen cupboards. His sneakers squeaked agains the linoleum floor. He was gurgling, a line of blood tricking from his mouth. He was choking on his own blood. Milton squeezed harder. The man stopped struggling. Milton relaxed his grip. Milton got up and flexed his aching arm. He poured himself a glass of water and drank it, looking down at the dead man on the floor. Early twenties, a cruel face, even in death. His eyes bulged, and his tongue lolled out of blue-tinged lips. Milton crouched down next to the body, frisking it quickly: a mobile phone, a wallet with three hundred dollars, a small transparent bag of cocaine. Milton took the money and the phone, discarding the wallet and the cocaine, and then took a dishcloth and a bottle of disinfectant he found under the sink and cleaned down anything that he might have touched. He wiped the glass and put it back in the cupboard. He wiped the tap. He wiped the hob.

These examples were the ones I felt were the most blatant, and that only come from currently available works. He’s already edited most of his books, which used to have far more plagiarism in them than they do now (but he edited most of these before I called him out on it, so I don’t know when the edits were made).

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Before I go any further, I want to make some corrections to my previous post:

* Mark Dawson did not write 20 books in 2 years.
* Mark Dawson does not run 20BooksTo50K. Michael Anderle started it, and Craig Martelle runs it. Mark Dawson has talked at their Vegas conference as a guest speaker, but that seems to be the extent of his involvement.

I already edited the original post to clear up this misinformation, but I believe a lot of people probably saw the post before those edits were made, so I wanted to clarify again in this post from the very beginning.

When I made my first post, I was excited to get the news out, and wanted to quickly craft a reason why people should be interested. “Random guy plagiarizes” isn’t very tantalizing, after all. However, my research was shoddy and, as I didn’t know anything about this guy before I discovered the plagiarism stuff, I spread a lot of misinformation about him. I don’t think I’m wrong about the plagiarism, but I was wrong about that, and I would like to apologize. I take full accountability for getting it wrong, and I understand if you’re disappointed or don’t trust me anymore.

There are plenty of self-published authors who write very quickly and don’t plagiarize. I apologize to any who I inadvertently offended by insinuating that such work was either stolen or of poor quality. My intention was to advocate for the respect of self-published authors by getting rid of bad apples who might give them a bad name, not to degrade them or their work in any way.

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Here are the other examples, and some of the examples from above with but with further context (I’ve included excerpts from the original versions of the books as well as the updated versions. A lot of these examples are less strong, but I think they’re worth looking at anyways. The idea is that he took a few really big scenes, but also a great number of small scenes as well which on their own wouldn’t mean much but taken as a whole indicate plagiarism of the work as a whole.)

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* \[No Country for Old Men\] When he approached the trucks he had the rifle unslung and cradled at his waist with the safety off. \[…\] In the first vehicle there was a man slumped dead over the wheel. Beyond were two more bodies lying in the gaunt yellow grass. Dried blood black on the ground. He stopped and listened. Nothing. The drone of flies.
* \[Original Prologue of Saint Death\] He approached the nearest Range Rover, his automatic cradled at his waist with the safety off. \[…\] One of the Italians, slumped dead over the wheel, swung over to the side. Adolfo hauled his body out and dumped it in the dust. Bad luck, pendejo. There were two more bodies in the back. \[…\] Vivid red blood soaked into the dirt. A cloud of hungry flies hovered over it.
* \[Current Prologue of Saint Death (Location 76 of 3396)\] He approached the nearest Range Rover, his automatic cradled at his waist. \[…\] One of the dead Italians, slumped dead over the wheel, swung over to the side. Adolfo hauled his body out and dumped it in the dust. Bad luck, pendejo. There were two more bodies in the back. \[…\] Vivid red blood soaked into the dirt. A cloud of hungry flies hovered over it. \[Note how his hasty edit made it read “One of the dead Italians, slumped dead over the wheel” Hmm I wonder if that guy is dead or not…\]

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* \[No Country for Old Men\] He looked through the window at the man in the truck. He was shot through the head. Blood everywhere.
* \[Original Prologue of Saint Death\] He went to the second truck and looked through the window at the driver. This one had tried to get away. He was shot through the head. Blood everywhere: the dash, the seats, across what was left of the window
* \[Current Prologue of Saint Death (Location 76 of 3396)\] He went to the second truck and looked through the window at the driver. This one had tried to get away. He was shot through the head. There was blood on the dash, the seats, and across what was left of the window.These examples are visible at 15% of the Kindle Preview.

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* \[No Country for Old Men\] He was nineteen. And he told me that he had been plannin to kill somebody for about as long as he could remember. Said that if they turned him out he’d do it again.
* \[Saint Death (Location 2400 of 3396)\] The one I remember more than all the others, he was just a kid. Fourteen years old from out of the barrio. \[…\] He told me that he’d been wanting to kill someone since he was a little boy. Said that if he got out, he’d do it again, and I believed him.

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* \[No Country for Old Men\] The pale orange dust that hung in the windless morning light grew faint and then it too was gone.
* \[Saint Death (Location 1540 of 3396)\] The faint orange dust that had hung in the windless morning had been whipped up into a storm, and now it was rolling in off the desert.

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* \[No Country for Old Men\] As he passed the little round ticket kiosk all the glass fell out of it. \[…\] By the time he got to Grande Street a pandemonium of gunfire had broken out behind him.
* \[Old version of Saint Death by Mark Dawson\] Milton brought the ArmaLite up and tracked down the corridor. As he passed a window all the glass fell out of it. He hadn’t even heard the shot. He looked out of the next window: a pandemonium of gunfire had broken out.
* \[New version of Saint Death by Mark Dawson at Location 2771 of 3396\] Milton brought the ArmaLite up and tracked down the corridor. There was a window; he passed it just after all the glass blew in. He hadn’t even heard the shot. He looked out of the next window: a pandemonium of gunfire had broken out.

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* \[No Country for Old Men\] He made his way up the street to a small park or zocalo where the grackles in the eucalyptus trees were waking and calling.
* \[Old version of Saint Death\] He made his way up the street to a small zócalo where the grackles in the eucalyptus trees called out in drowsy alarm.
* \[New version of Saint Death at Location 3079 of 3396\] He made his way up the street to a small zócalo where the birds in the eucalyptus trees called out in drowsy alarm.

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* \[No Country for Old Men\] They sat on a sofa in the corner of the office and Chigurh set the case on the coffeetable and nodded at it. That’s yours, he said.
* \[Old version of Saint Death\] They sat on a sofa in the corner of the lobby and the man took out a brown envelope and set it on the table. “That’s yours,” he said. “Good job.”
* \[New version of Saint Death, Location 485 of 3396\] They sat on a sofa in the corner of the lobby, and the man took out a brown envelope and set it on the table. “Well done,” he said. “Good job.”

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* \[No Country for Old Men\] He walked down to the cabstand and opened the rear door of the cab parked there and got in. Take me to a motel, he said. The driver looked at him in the mirror. You got one in mind?
* \[Saint Death Location 1423 of 3396\] He led the way down to the cabstand, opened the door of the cab parked there and ushered her inside. The car was blissfully air-conditioned. “You know the La Playa Consulado?” he said. The driver looked at him in the mirror. “Near the US Consulate?”

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* \[No Country for Old Men\] They drove out to a place called the Trail Motel and Moss got out with his bag and the document case and paid the driver and went into the office. A woman was sitting watching television. She got up and went around behind the desk.
* \[Old version of Saint Death\] Satisfied, he stepped aside so that Caterina could get out, paid the driver and went into the reception. Net curtains, wood panels, décor from deep into the eighties. A woman was sitting watching a chat show on TV. She got up and went around behind the desk.
* \[New version of Saint Death (Location 1454 of 3396)\] Satisfied, he stepped aside so that Caterina could get out, paid the driver and went into the reception. Net curtains, wood panels, décor from deep into the eighties. A woman was sitting watching a chat show on TV.

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* \[No Country for Old Men\] What time do you expect him? I dont know. He aint called in or nothin so your guess is as good as mine.
* \[Chapter 33 Saint Death (Location 1891 of 3396)\] “What time do you expect him back?” “I don’t know, Señor. He left pretty early yesterday, don’t think he’s been back.”

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* \[No Country for Old Men\] They’ve moved on to other things. Not everyone is suited to this line of work. The prospect of outsized profits leads people to exaggerate their own capabilities. In their minds. They pretend to themselves that they are in control of events where perhaps they are not.
* \[Old version of Saint Death\] “Not everyone is suited to this line of work, English. Having a gun pointed at someone can sometimes lead people to exaggerate their own abilities. They tell themselves that they are in control of events where perhaps they are not.”
* \[New version of Saint Death, Location 2142 of 3396\] “Not everyone is made for this line of work, English. Having a gun pointed at someone can sometimes lead people to exaggerate their own abilities.”

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* \[No Country for Old Men\] He sat on the bed thinking things over. He got up and looked out the window at the parking lot and he went into the bathroom and got a glass of water and came back and sat on the bed again. He took a sip and set the water on the glass top of the wooden bedside table. There is no goddamn way, he said.
* \[Chapter 26 of Saint Death (Location 1467 of 3396)\] He ran things over in his mind. He got two glasses of water from the bathroom and came back and went to the window again. He took a sip and set the water on the cheap bedside table. Halfway there, he thought.

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Notice these next three examples are all in the same location of Salvation Row:

* \[No Country for Old Men\] He took the measure of the room and looked to see where everything was.
* \[Salvation Row (Location 3466 of 5109)\] He stood just in front of the door, taking the measure of the room, looking to see where everything was.

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* \[No Country for Old Men\] A toilet flushed somewhere. A doorlatch clicked.
* \[Salvation Row (Location 3466 of 5109)\] A toilet flushed somewhere, and a door latch clicked.

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* \[No Country for Old Men\] Chigurh shot him three times so fast it sounded like one long gunshot and left most of the upper part of him spread across the head-board and the wall behind it.
* \[Salvation Row (Location 3466 of 5109)\] Boon shot her three times and left her blood spread across the headboard and the wall behind it.

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* \[2013 William Boyd interviews James Bond by William Boyd from the Guardian\] The hall table was bare – apart from a healthy-looking spider plant standing in a pewter vase.
* \[The Driver by Mark Dawson (Location 1021 of 4018)\] There was a healthy-looking spider plant standing in a pewter vase.

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* \[2013 William Boyd interviews James Bond by William Boyd from the Guardian\] He didn’t look back. The clouds parted for a moment and the sun shone brightly down on Chelsea. Bond had disappeared.
* \[The Driver by Mark Dawson, Location 3830 of 4018\] He didn’t look back. The foghorn boomed as a single shaft of wintry sunlight pierced the mist for a moment. Milton had disappeared.

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There we go, I’m done now. Enjoy your life, visit with your family, go outside and touch grass. I know I will. Had to rewrite the algorithm they use on [https://people.f4.htw-berlin.de/%7Eweberwu/Tools/Text-Compare.html](https://people.f4.htw-berlin.de/%7Eweberwu/Tools/Text-Compare.html) in Python to find all of these examples. A big thanks to u/RunDNA for suggesting that site in the comments.

My research was limited to the books he had added to his Goodreads account. I couldn’t cross-search across every book I ever made, but someone pointed out to me that a lot of the books he plagiarized from were books he had reviewed on his Goodreads account, so I was able to set up an algorithm that compared all those texts against all of his texts in order to find the above examples. There was a lot of sifting through generic phrases, but I think I was able to find excerpts which are pretty indicative of plagiarism when taken as a whole. It’s possible that he’s plagiarized from many more sources, but unfortunately it’d be very inefficient trying to find those sources as I’d have to read all of his books, look for any phrases that seem out of place, look those up into Google, then compare the whole text against whatever text shows up to see if it was just a fluke or not, etc.

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I’m also in talks with a writer from the Salisbury Journal, Mark Dawson’s local paper, to get the story published, so hopefully that goes through.

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And if there are any glaring errors in my post, make sure to let me know in the comments! I appreciate the feedback and would never want to peddle misinformation.

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Also this post was too long so I’ll be posting the extra examples in a comment so be sure to look for that down below.

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Have a great day, everyone!

by wilsebbis