East of Constantinople, West of Shanghai



Today an old gaming supplement I wrote a few years back was reviewed by an Italian webzine. It was described as “rough and noisome”, but I understand that these are currently considered compliments in the national panorama of fantasy fiction and gaming, in which being “ignorant” has become something we are supposed to be proud of.
So it’s OK.
Always good to be reviewed, especially if it’s a generally positive review.

Alas, the book in question, that I pitched, designed and wrote in 2015, was presented as somebody else’s project, to which I was attached as “compatriot”, essentially a second fiddle on somebody’s else’s gig.

For someone who is trying to make a living writing, seeing one’s work attributed to someone else is the ultimate sign of one’s worthlessness.
It is not pleasant.

And mind you, I know and respect the person that was indicated as the originator of my book – we are friends, and I like his work. And he was fast to point out the error, and the reviewer corrected immediately.
It all ended in a good laugh.
After all, what’s so bad about such a thing, right?

And yet all this basically means that nobody bothered to check out my book in the first place, not enough to read the title page and see who was the author. As I said, a measure of my worthlessness, and of my work’s.
It is not pleasant at all.