Every time I tell someone I've written a book, I chase the announcement with a cascade of panicked, aggressively modest explanations that although it is about my journey through the creative industries, it isn't an autobiography.
Besides, who would even know who I am? It was never going to be the tabloid-serialised, wholesale slamming of the 10,239 ignorers of introductory emails. I wrote it because I wanted to pull back the curtain on the industry, just a little.
I mean, visit my website. You'll see a client list featuring the likes of the Premier League. But in 2006, when I skittered out of the New Blood graduate show like a dog from a bath, played off the park by the overwhelming competition, I was still two years from launching my maiden website, let alone landing a commission.