10. People who I know quite well will come to my signings, but I won't recognize them and will be horribly embarassed. (This is unfortunately not only plausible, but inevitable; I forget both names and faces, and typically don't recognize people when they're out of the context I know them from. I've thought of asking them to spell their name, but what if it's Bob?)

9. I will get a stalker.

8. I will get on Oprah, but someone will spike my drink with an untraceable substance that makes me blurt out obscenities and racial slurs, then strip.

7. Baba-lovers will sue me.

6. Fifty years from now, this book will still be the thing I'm famous for, and no one will ever like anything else I write ever again.

5. The book will be a big flop, the advance won't earn out, and I will never sell another book again.

4. I will never write anything good again.

3. Baba-lovers will try to assassinate me. (I've already had three people ask me quite seriously if it's possible that this could happen. I said no, Baba-lovers go more for passive-aggressive social snobbery and backbiting campaigns than fatwas, but how many authors even get asked this question in the first place?)

2. Crazy people will read it, decide that I am their new guru, and form an entire cult of stalkers focused on me.

1. The book will be successful, but I will drop dead.
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