Had to happen sooner or later I suppose. My brother today did an egosearch on Google (apparently discovering that his namesake has stabbed someone in Canada). This would have been fine if he’d stopped there, but he didn’t: he had to go and enter our father’s name in the Googly box.
“So what?” I hear you cry. Well, my father was modest and humble enough to name me after himself. The only thing differentiating us (other than like a gazillion years and the fact that I’m WAY prettier) are our middle names. You can see what’s coming, can’t you?
This evening I got a phone call that started with “Hello, Mr International author…” Fuck. I tried to blag it, but he’d fallen across this very blog, so I was screwed. Bastard. All this time (eleven months) of keeping the secret and it was all shagged over by an egosearch-inlaw. And the best bit of all: he didn’t even seem that impressed.
I have sworn him to secrecy for the next month. “The announcement will be made on the 27th of February,” I said, “PLEASE keep it under your hat till then.” Only time will tell, I suppose.
Still: I only have myself to blame. No one made me start a blog and keep incriminating evidence on it. Bad Stuart: shoulda kept your bloody mouth shut.
Tra, la, la…