Now shipping: feelings and pages

Accidentally Wise is officially out

Jun 12, 2025

This was a moment I did not expect to feel quite so deeply.

On June 10, Accidentally Wise quietly went live on Amazon. No fanfare. No “click to publish.” Just a quiet status change online, and a much louder one inside me.

The first official copy of the book went to my mother. She was the one that had taught me to read, to pay attention, to stay curious. She was the one who showed me that stories are not just told, they are lived. My first and most enduring teacher, even when she did not realise she was teaching. So when she held the book, it felt like a circle closing—softly, quietly.

I wished my father could have seen that moment. He passed away some years ago, but his quiet strength, dry humour, and deep belief in my scribbles are stitched into these pages too. Even the ones he never read.

A dear friend, author and journalist Pankaj Mishra, often says that writing is fulfilling even if it is for an audience of one. In that moment, watching my mother hold the book, I understood exactly what he meant.

Not long after my mother accepted the book, those closest to me held their copies of the book - with a warmth and quiet pride that caught me off guard. That moment was humbling, and emotional in a way I had not prepared for.

The room, in those few moments, was quiet. Family hovered nearby, pretending not to watch too closely.

But the silence did not last. Soon, everyone began flipping through the pages—some starting in the middle, some at the end—reading out lines that made them laugh or pause, pointing out passages that felt too familiar, and turning the quiet into conversation.

If there was one thing I had hoped for, it was this: smiles, laughter, and the kind of warm noise that only happens when something you wrote makes itself at home in other people’s lives.

No champagne. Just a quiet space, a small knot in my chest, and a moment of stillness that gave way—gratefully—to something louder, lighter, and full of life.

The accidental beginning

When I first started writing, I did not know I was writing this book. I knew only that I had stories that kept tapping me on the shoulder. Essays that arrived uninvited. Questions I could not leave alone.

It all started with a simple commitment: to publish one article every week on Substack. No grand plan. No deadline. Just a promise to show up consistently and let the words find their shape. Week after week, the writing began to shift—from standalone posts into something more personal, more cohesive.

I had been thinking about writing a book for years, but I had not planned for it to take shape when it did—or this way. It emerged gradually, almost shyly, through that weekly rhythm.

In Welcome to Accidentally in Progress, I called this an “accidental” book. Not in a dismissive way. But in the way you stumble into something you have long wanted—without realising you were finally ready for it.

What followed was not a straight line. There were rewrites, rearrangements, dead ends, surprises. There were essays that came easily and others I fought with for weeks. But the act of showing up each week gave it momentum, and eventually, a voice. And a book—one I had always hoped to write, even if I did not know it would begin with a newsletter.

Choosing the right publisher

The path to publication had more detours than I had expected—or planned for. As I shared in How I Chose My Book Publisher, picking a publisher felt more like choosing a partner than hiring a service. I wanted someone who cared about the book’s heart, not just about logistics or launch-day kits.

It was not simply about distribution. It was about trust. About ensuring that Accidentally Wise would make its way into the world without losing its voice—or its weirdness. In hindsight, that decision shaped everything that came after.

The emotional blueprint

There is a difference between writing and releasing. Writing happens in private. Releasing happens in public.
And the gap between the two? That is where your inner critic throws the loudest party.

In From Keynote Speaker to Kitchen Sink, I shared that contrast—between the polished public persona and the messier version behind the scenes. That tension runs through the book.

And in The Secret Life of First-Time Authors, I said the quiet part out loud: that writing a book for the first time is a masterclass in controlled panic.

Early words from early readers

The book went live on June 10. But the reality—people actually reading it—has unfolded more slowly, more gently. Most readers are still waiting for their copies to arrive, but a few early ones—those with advance access—have already reached out. And their responses have been quietly overwhelming.

One reader said a chapter “felt like someone had been eavesdropping on their internal monologue.” Another paused halfway through to sit with a sentence that landed harder than expected.

A friend messaged, “It’s warm, wise, and just cheeky enough to feel like you’re in the room, rambling with me.” Someone else wrote, “This made me go looking for my curiosity again.”

It turns out, the most meaningful part of a launch is not the moment it goes live. It is the slow, quiet way a book begins to find its place in other people’s lives. That is the real beginning.

What the book became

Accidentally Wise is not a memoir. It is not a blueprint or a grand thesis. It is a collection of essays—curious, chaotic, occasionally philosophical, and often self-mocking.

In I Didn’t Plan to Write About This, I admitted that some of the most meaningful pieces arrived sideways—uninvited, unpolished, and fully alive.

Other chapters, like Mountain Goat in Training, got cut. Not because they lacked merit, but because the book needed space to breathe. That edit taught me a new kind of trust.

Titles, handles, and other existential crises

As I wrote in The Secret Life of First-Time Authors, naming the book felt more terrifying than writing it. Titles, unlike paragraphs, cannot hide. I second-guessed everything. For a brief moment, I believed the right title might solve all my insecurities. It did not—but eventually, it felt like the only one that fit.

Then came the Instagram handle. In AccidentallyWise: A Handle, a Book, and a Minor Meltdown, I shared how something as simple as a username spiraled into a full-blown identity wobble. It was not just about availability—it was about returning to social media after years away, and asking whether I could show up publicly without feeling like I was performing a version of myself.

And then came the rest: pre-order panic (Pre-orders, Pauses and Panic), media awkwardness (Book, Camera, Action!), and a deeply personal packing-and-signing marathon that made me look, in hindsight, slightly unhinged (Signed, Sealed, Slightly Panicked).

But I kept going. Not because I felt ready. But because something about these stories refused to stay quiet.

So what happens now?

Accidentally Wise is out in the world—in print and ebook formats.
Most of those who have pre-ordered will receive their copies between June 11 and 14.
I will keep writing here—about what comes after launch, and the conversations this book sets in motion.
A live Q&A may happen. Really? Maybe. We’ll see.

In the meantime, thank you for reading, for replying, for sending that first message that said, “I see myself in this.”

You have made this journey less lonely, more real, and infinitely more worthwhile.