First, I decide to do some 'inner work', to prepare myself. I practise looking at pictures of ethereal Jhumpa and otherworldly Arundhati and not saying to myself – Gosh, no wonder my publisher didn't ask for my picture for the back of the book. I conjure up the dictums delivered unconvincingly by my mother when I was 15: Beauty is as beauty does.
Inner work shakily in place, this morning I skipped off to a small bookstore in a leafy lane. The big chains my publisher will, I hope, look after, but the small ones I have to work. At this time, though, I didn't actually have a copy of 3ZM in hand. I walked into the store and felt a waking version of one of those nightmares in which you walk into your classroom wearing just the essentials and the school tie. A nice lady behind the counter looked at me and smiled. Then, I uttered the words: 'Hi, I'm a writer. My book is coming out soon.' It's May, very hot, and the lady might have pushed a chair towards me and poured me a glass of water – or then, maybe all kinds of odd people walk in from the street and make such dubious declarations; they need to be merely calmed, humoured and sent on their way. Which is what she did.
4 June
Copies of the book have just arrived. I am in tears at the idea that someone at this hallowed place has actually put my name on an envelope, licked stamps and stuck them on a packet, to send my books to me. I am beside myself with gratitude. In the interim, more people have admonished me to take matters in my own hands, as no bookstore anywhere, it seems, has even heard of the book. Leave alone standing at the door eagerly, waiting for large consignments of 3ZM, bookstore owners are actually urging other books on to my friends. As for 3ZM, informal reports pour in from all over: the bookstores have not heard of it. 'Sure you've written it?' some friends ask kindly. When they hear my anxious silence, one of them hurriedly adds, 'I'll ask for it again and again, so that they'll remember the name. And when the book is out, I'll gift a copy of it for everyone's birthday.' Ah, where would I be without friends?
7 June
I've heard from a smart, fearless young couple that I just have to take this show on the road myself. They laughed themselves silly when I told them I've been going to bookstores in leafy lanes and introducing myself; and they advise me to get a manager – m-a-n-a-g-e-r, they spell out helpfully. I bargained with them – one last sweet bookstore with which I have a personal connection, and then I'll do everything that you suggest.