-Somewhere out there, a publicist will start sending out extremely misleading press releases about your book and yourself. These press releases will make highly dubious claims as to the unsurpassed quality of your book and the charm and charisma of your person. Also, they will (mistakenly) claim you live in Pablo, Montana (when you have in fact never even been to Montana) to cover up the fact that you are, effectively, homeless.
-The author photo you provide to your publisher will be stretched, squashed, pixellated, and maybe converted to sepia so that you look as much like a post-apocalyptic iguana as possible.
-Reviewers you don’t know and have never met will be sent advance copies of your book. Though there’s no way you can know this for sure (yet!), you are certain that they are at this very moment flipping through it with an expression of smoldering disdain (or, alternatively, stifling their gag reflex).
-Though there’s no way you can know this for sure (yet!), you are certain that, at this very moment, there is someone out there penning a death threat with your name on it because you somehow managed to insult them with your book.
-Against your better judgement, you will agree to make some sort of Author Appearance which will either be a) grievously under-attended or b) attended only by belligerent old ladies in the advanced stages of psychosis or c) attended by a disappointed audience of would-be fans who assumed you were way doper than you actually are.
-As soon as the book is published, your name will be associated exclusively with a) seventeenth century teapots b) teenage sleuths with eating disorders c) Living With Scabies d) some other narrow topic that only defines 0.1% of your actual life and interests but has now come to define your entire public identity.
Readers who have had a book published—care to add?