I'm undecided about whether or not to be famous. By which I mean, I'm thinking about going in for self-publicity, to see whether I like it or not. Radio Derby asked me to let them know what happens with these competitions in Germany back when I was doing the Alzheimer's interviews, and I normally wouldn't bother, but I'm thinking that maybe I should. The logic behind it is that if I'm actually going to sit down and write this How To Be Clever book like I've been saying I would for ages, it would probably stand a better chance of being published if someone had heard of me. And I really could get into newspapers and on the local telly and things just by dropping them a line to say I'm great, write about me. It doesn't take much to get into the news around here.
Trouble is, I can't really get past the idea that it's horrifically big-headed to do something like that. It really isn't me, anyway. And I have the delusion that people look up to me as a shining example of self-effacing modesty, so I'd hate to lose the imaginary respect of this mass of adoring non-existent fans just to see a bad photo of me in the local free paper. What I need, in fact, is a publicist - someone who will send out press releases and things about my exploits, and ignore me when I tell them not to, for my own good. That way I can still convince myself that I'm not doing this kind of thing for glory's sake, and yet still become a real semi-celebrity and sell anything up to a couple of dozen copies of my book.
No comments:
Post a Comment