My grandmother used to say, “If you laugh at other people’s faults, they become yours” and she was right. A friend of mine made fun of people who had more than one phone. It didn’t make any sense, he said, and went on to postulate that if you were one of those people who had a different phone in each pocket then you were either a dodgy real estate broker or one of those guys who smuggles things to and from Dubai. Today, he has four phones (“One’s official; one’s personal; one’s more public, for the press, you know; and this one’s for international calls — sh*t! I’ve turned into a pimp!”). I, of course, repeated my grandmother’s saying to him with the calm of the Buddha. Now it looks like it’s my turn and let’s just say that I’m relating more to Hecate than the long-eared god.
How much fun I made of people who had multiple Twitters and blogs. “I need to have separate blogs/ Twitter accounts,” they said. I guffawed. No one needed this stuff. If you’ve got enough time on your hands to manage more than one blog/ Twitter, then you clearly need to get out more. And you’re self-indulgent and suffer from verbal diarrhoea. Insert snicker here.
So. This is the point where I eat my snicker, and there are no chocolates or peanuts in sight. Right now, if I had a blog where I wasn’t Anon, I could go nuts with cringe-worthy posts that crowed about a book I’ve written. Because this whole business of being anonymous goes for a bit of a toss if I’m going to show you the cover of said book. I thought long and hard about this. A few friends suggested that I throw caution to the winds and forget about being Anon because at the end of the day, I’d regret not having given the book as much publicity as possible if it didn’t do well. Another pointed out that there were a few people who had guessed this blog was mine just by reading a few posts so what the hell? But here’s the thing, and this might be a sign of deep-seated psychosis: I like being Anon. I like being unidentifiable. This isn’t because I wouldn’t say in public the things I write here. I would and I do. But I still like the idea of being able to watch people without them knowing I’m watching them. Maybe this is what happens when you watch “Shahenshah” too many times as a kid.
Anyway, the point is I’ve decided I’m not going to write about my book here on Going Anon and On. But if all goes well, you will hear about it anyway. Hopefully my book will land up on reviewers’ laps and they will find it good/bad enough to write about. That way, the ever-supportive Manish, who very sweetly sent me an email with “How the hell do I promo your book?” in the subject line, won’t have to rack his brains about how to talk about the book without outing me because either he or Jabberwock will end up reading it without having to exert themselves much. Plus, when said reviewers proceed to savage my poor book, this little spot in the World Wide Web will be one place where me and my dignity can take refuge by being as snarky as ever. Meanwhile, I’m going to try and resist opening up a new non-anonymous blog.