IT can be a hard-knock life for authors these days.

Cyberspace is awash with free e-published books. Top seller lists are dominated by tie-ins to cookery or gardening programmes and celebrity memoirs. Even esteemed Booker prizewinners such as Kazuo Ishiguro have to make bold moves to stand out from the crowd, in his case by featuring a dragon in his new novel, The Buried Giant. None of this applies, however, if the scribbler happens to be a pal of a big friendly media giant by the name of Rupert.

William Collins, part of Rupert Murdoch's HarperCollins, is to publish a memoir by Alex Salmond, Scotland's former First Minister. The Dream Shall Never Die: 100 Days that Changed Scotland Forever, will be in all good bookshops on March 19. To spread the news, Mr Salmond is reportedly in talks to have the work serialised in one of Mr Murdoch's newspaper titles.

Three thoughts come to mind. First, thank goodness Michelle Mone's memoir came out yesterday, ahead of Mr Salmond's. The thought of Scotland's bra diva scrapping for bookshop space with Holyrood's answer to Maria Callas does not bear thinking about. Secondly, what is the serialisation deal worth? Are we talking Jeremy Clarkson money here? Lastly, never mind the Ted Kennedyesque declaration of dreams never collecting their P45s, is there any chance of Mr Salmond ever shutting up?

Perhaps that last enquiry could have been softened somewhat. It must be hard being a member of the ex-premiers' club. One day you are sitting in the back of a ministerial limo, being driven to this or that engagement, the next you have lost a referendum and are being kicked to the kerb. The phone no longer rings so much, the stiff white invitations drop off, and the only thing requiring one's signature is the cardboard box from the office containing all your old belongings, including that signed photo from Fred Goodwin.

So one sympathises, to some extent, with Mr Salmond's efforts to keep busy. Not everyone, however, is as forgiving. Take the question, for example, of who will be publishing Mr Salmond's memoir. If it is hard for authors these days, spare a thought for small independent publishers, particularly of the Scottish variety. One such is Hugh Andrew of Birlinn, who said of Mr Salmond signing with William Collins: "What a sad comment on Nationalism that at the first sign of a large cheque our ex first minister bolts for London. One might have thought he would have stood firm with the embattled publishing industry in his own country. Instead he goes straight to Rupert Murdoch. I am gobsmacked - it is just an old pals' act."

In fairness to Mr Salmond, William Collins has Scottish roots and links. The firm, from which HarperCollins would eventually spring, began life in Glasgow in the 19th century, and it has a distribution arm in Bishopbriggs, Glasgow. But one takes Mr Andrew's point. Signing with a smaller, independent Scottish publisher could have helped the fortunes of the company concerned. Likely not by much - we are hardly talking the next Twilight series here - but still. Instead, Mr Salmond has gone with the big boys. His prerogative, but independent publishing companies' loss.

Of greater interest outwith publishing is the impact Mr Salmond's memoir might have on the forthcoming General Election. Billed as the inside story of the referendum campaign, the publishers have described The Dream as "a master class in the power of progressive politics by one of the biggest figures in UK politics". An enticing prospect at any time, but one which just happens to be set for publication in the run up to one of the most closely fought general elections for generations (that's generation as in 30 years, not the SNP generation of 30 months).

Publication comes, moreover, in the wake of Lord Ashcroft's polling this week predicting a 22-point swing to the SNP in Scotland, an outcome that would see the party taking 56 out of a possible 59 seats. Bye-bye the panda Tory, sayonara to all but Alistair Carmichael of the LibDems, and Goodnight Vienna to Labour in Scotland. Oh, to have been in the room when Jim Murphy, the leader of Scottish Labour, was handed those results on Wednesday evening. He must have made Anne Boleyn, clutching her arrest warrant from Henry VIII, look like she was holding a lottery ticket with six winning numbers.

Once the high-fiving among SNP strategists has stopped, the boys and women in the back room might pause to wonder how much the Ashcroft polling will benefit the party. Win fewer seats than predicted and the result, no matter how spectacular, will be seen as something of a disappointment. They can surely live with that, however. Perhaps of more concern is the prospect, in voters' eyes, of the pendulum swinging too far, too fast, that instead of Scotland being a virtual one-party state dominated by Labour, it will be a virtual one-party state dominated by the SNP. Will Scottish voters look favourably on that notion? Might they baulk at the risk of voting SNP and getting a Tory government at Westminster? And while voters are making up their minds, do they desire the vision of Mr Salmond punting his memoir before them? Does the SNP in general want Mr Salmond reliving what is now an auld battle?

It has been remarkable how much, and how quickly, Scottish politics has moved on since Mr Salmond's aria from the balcony on September 19, 2014. His successor as FM has not paused for breath since, nor has she put a foot wrong. She has also put her size fives into UK politics more successfully than Mr Salmond ever did. He was popular among the metropolitan Spectator set, she has piqued the interest of the wider Question Time audience. As a result, the prospect of her doing a deal with a minority Labour administration is likely more palatable to rUK voters than Mr Salmond could ever have made it.

The former First Minister, who will be standing at the General Election, is a long way from daft. There will be nothing in the memoir to embarrass his successor. It is more a question of mood music. However the vote pans out, it is better for the SNP to keep the vibe around the General Election sweet and lowdown, to appear in harmony with all things to all voters. It is, after all, the tactic that has worked so well for them so far. In that scenario, having Mr Salmond in the background banging the gong for his memoirs might not seem like such a bonus. There is also the question of why, the money aside, he is writing the book. Mr Salmond was never the retiring kind, and he was certainly never shy. Anyone who thinks this memoir really is his last word in politics before moving on to a low-peep elder statesman's role has been reading too many fairy tales. The dream shall never die indeed. Given his reluctance to fade into the background, one begins to wonder which dream he has in mind.