This week, KentOnline columnist Melissa Todd meets fellow writer Stuart Harvey, who remains resilient and determined to follow his dreams - despite being fleeced out of £100k by cruel scammers…

What did you wish for this Christmas? Did all your wishes come true? I hope not, for your sake—or what would you have to strive for next year?

I have always wished more than anything to be published. This fine periodical and a few others regularly tolerate my musings, but I’d still love one of my books to find a traditional publisher. I got close once, getting signed by an agent, but he couldn't sell me and gave up after a year. I’m pretty well resigned to it not happening now. Amazon distributes my books, so I keep all the money, sometimes enough to pay the gas bill, which is some consolation. Happily, my ego is robust enough to stand it. But just once, before I hang up my quill and head to the great library in the sky, I would like someone proper, someone with clout, to say I really can write.

So when I met a man who shared my dearest wish, I felt an instant kinship with him. When I heard how he'd been scammed out of his life savings and more by a fake publishing company I was furious on his behalf, and for all us thwarted writers. Preying on people’s dreams, their creativity and passion, is sickening. Many of us are writing deeply personal stories which we yearn to share with the world. Stuart Harvey among them.

In November 2021, a company emailed Stuart, a lorry driver, to say they were interested in representing his book. It’s called “Trucking Impossible: Autism, Covid 19 and the Industry We All Rely On”. Stuart Harvey has autism, yet spent Covid working on the frontline, meeting our every need and desire 24/7, rolling over the countryside, stacking our shelves, night after night. The company claimed they would get this book published, make it an international best-seller, and sell it to Netflix too. He’d earn millions and his name would be on everyone’s lips.

It took them two years to drain £100,000 from him. All for nothing. The police aren’t interested in his story. Nor are Action Fraud. This being an international scam, they both claim they can't help. Nor, apparently, can his bank. Nor the San Diego Police Department. It began small: they’d just need a few hundred pounds to begin distribution. Oh, and for insurance. Then a few thousand to take his book to assorted book fairs. Occasionally they sent him a few pennies of royalties to keep up his faith. They’d chat to him about his interest in motorbikes and music. They put extraordinary effort into making him believe they were his friends. That’s what feels so unforgivable.

Stuart had given them his life savings. He’d been saving from his first paper round, aged 13, for a home of his own. The company kept insisting he just needed to send them a little bit more money and all his dreams would come true. He took out two further bank loans, totalling another £55,000.

Many others have been scammed by the company, and none have found legal redress. The victims wanted it to be true so badly they suspended their critical faculties. I can totally understand that. Having seen the emails, it could easily have been me.

All scams are vile, of course, shaking our faith in our fellow human beings. Publishing scams are particularly heinous because they don't just rob writers of money—they rob them of their dreams, their confidence, and in some cases, the fruits of their creative labour. These scams take what should be a joyful, fulfilling experience and turn it into a painful, disheartening one. They exploit hope rather than greed.

Not for Stuart, though. When I met him I was struck largely by his buoyant optimism, his cheer in the face of such a horrific, life-changing ordeal. He’s 31 now, lives with his parents, writes constantly and has plenty of plans. He tells me he doesn’t want this scam to define him: he still wants to find a traditional publisher and lead more talks on autism. He gave a banger at last year's London Autism Show.

He remains angry at the police, however, and Action Fraud, for not investigating properly. He blames “aspie-phobia” for their indifference to his plight, although, frankly, they don’t seem to pursue anyone else’s complaints either. He remains determined to get his story told and is editing a new version now. I can’t wait to read it. Perhaps we can learn from Stuart—happiness lies less in having your wishes granted than in always having something for which to strive.