As many of you know, I released my debut novel, Your World Shall Be Mine, last year. But what a lot of people don’t realise—because I’ve kept this part relatively quiet—is that I was forced to self-publish after falling victim to a publishing scam. Like many first-time novelists, I was naïve. I dreamed of securing a traditional publishing deal and, when I received not one, but five offers, I thought I’d made it. I picked the company offering the best deal (which should have been my first warning sign), and it turned out to be a scam. Since then, I’ve been unable to write… until now.
I wrote my first novel in early 2022, convinced that traditional publishing was the best route for me. I lacked marketing experience and felt my book would have a better shot if someone else handled that side of things. What I didn’t know at the time was that publishing scams exist—fraudulent companies that prey on hopeful writers and exploit their inexperience. I reached out to over thirty publishers and agents, desperate for someone to see the value in my work. I’d fallen in love with the characters and the world I’d built, and I wanted others to as well.
So when I received five offers, I was ecstatic. After some research, I quickly ruled out three of them as vanity publishers—companies that demand thousands of pounds in exchange for minimal royalties. That left me with two. Neither had negative reviews online (in fact, their lack of presence made it difficult to verify anything at all), so I had to rely on the information available.
The deciding factor for me was royalties. One publisher—who I now know is legitimate—offered just 30% royalties, while the other offered 50%. It seemed like an obvious choice. They even claimed to have connections with Waterstones (which, at the time, they did), and nothing about them set off alarm bells.
Fast forward two and a half years, and oh, how things have changed.
At first, I kept my publishing deal quiet, only sharing the news with close friends, family and colleagues. I didn’t want to get too hopeful too soon. When they asked for updates in the first fifteen months, I wasn’t worried—publishing takes time, and I didn’t want to pester the company that had shown faith in my work. But when I finally received my ‘proofread’ manuscript, alarm bells started ringing.
It looked nearly identical to my original draft—except they’d inserted errors. Errors that weren’t there before.
I had no idea what to do. I painstakingly went through their version, noting all the inconsistencies and mistakes they’d somehow ‘missed.’ Then, I stumbled across a comment on the publisher’s Facebook page from someone describing a situation eerily similar to mine. That’s when I knew I had to speak up. I replied, detailing my own experience.
I’m glad I did because that’s when I finally learned the truth.
Later that day, another writer reached out to me. She’d also signed a deal with this publisher and told me there were many others—at the time, around twenty-five, though now the number is in the hundreds—who had fallen for the same scam. The more I learned, the sicker I felt. This entire ordeal ultimately led to me leaving my job last year because of the impact the situation had on my mental health and ability to mask, which my boss at the time refused to support. If you’ve read my blog post about why support at work matters, you’ll know I briefly touched on this, but I’m only now ready to discuss it in detail.
I should note here that this publisher used to be legitimate—it did actually have books in Waterstones, hosted launch events and genuinely supported its writers. But when the owner’s son took over—a man who I now know was a former police officer later imprisoned for being a paedophile—he used the company as a front for his criminal activities. As of today, it’s estimated that he’s stolen hundreds of thousands of pounds from vulnerable writers, and he has yet to face justice (though many of the incredible people I’ve connected with are still fighting for it).
I was so disheartened that I stopped writing altogether. I had detailed plans for two sequels to my novel, but the experience had drained me of all motivation.
But recently, something shifted. I had a burst of inspiration. And while I’m still reluctant to continue August and Elodie’s story after everything that happened, I have started writing again. Not just one book, but two.
Last week, I wrote the prologue for a cosy fantasy idea that came to me while I was in Seoul. I was so brimming with inspiration that it was all I could think about while I was away! And as soon as I got back, I put together an entire chapter-by-chapter plan.
This time, though, I’m not in a rush.
I wrote my last novel in three months while working full-time. I was so eager to get published that I didn’t take the time to appreciate the writing process—or to truly consider the importance of finding the right publisher. I’m wiser now.
I’m still hurting. I lost a considerable amount of money that I’m still fighting to get back. And I was forced to self-publish because the publisher insisted they would release my book regardless—even after I attempted to nullify my contract due to their breaches. Even now, they claim to hold the rights to my work when, legally, they do not.
But I love storytelling, and I don’t want this experience to define my future as a writer. I want to share the weird and wonderful ideas that float around my brain. And even though returning to Falsewater Valley feels impossible right now—because this situation has tainted that world for me—I know I want to keep creating new ones.
Next time I publish, I’ll be patient. I’ll find a reliable agent who can connect me with reputable publishers. It might take longer, but that’s okay. I’ve already wasted too much time letting this experience hold me back. I won’t let it anymore.
So, if you’re a budding writer reading this—please be vigilant when choosing your publishing route. Take your time, explore your options, and research any publishing house thoroughly before pitching to them. It breaks my heart knowing how many writers, just like me, have fallen victim to these scams. We put our souls into our stories, only to have them stolen by foxes in chicken suits, preying on our passion. But I refuse to be silenced any longer. Our stories deserve to be told the right way—on our terms, and in the hands of those who truly believe in them.
If you’d like to support me and my writing, my debut novel, Your World Shall Be Mine, is available on Amazon now. If you haven’t already grabbed a copy, you can do so here: Your World Shall Be Mine on Amazon.
