Yesterday I mailed off the sig sheets for the special editions of Aegri Somnia, so that Apex Digest can print them all up together — and lo, there will be copies of the anthology signed by all of us contributing authors.
Also, there will be some confusion, I bet, because I’m not exactly doing posterity any favors here. In the marvelous and unlikely event that I become studied by future generations, then some future grad student is going to have a field day doing a master’s thesis on my hypothetical drug use and/or possible schizophrenia. This is because I appear to be fundamentally incapable of signing my own name correctly more than twice in a row.
It’s like this: I rarely write in cursive. Almost never. I compose in a quickie, sloppy, chicken-scratch print that has served me well through many a long note-taking session — and the rest of the time, I type. In fact, I type about 90-100 words per minute, so do you think I do a whole lot of long-hand letter writing? No. No, you do not.
But this means that on the occasions when I’m required to sign my name to something, I get a little stupid. Lest you think I’m exaggerating, I’ve had banks call on two separate occasions — wondering if someone was trying to pass checks in my name. It would seem that I’ve identified myself on checks as “Cheerie Preist” and “Cheire Preest,” respectively, and the bank representatives thought to themselves, “Selves, surely if this check were actually written by Ms. Priest she would have signed her name correctly!” But they would be wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.
In my defense, in cursive the “i” and “e” don’t look very different, now do they? And sometimes when I’m scrawling merrily along, doing one loopty-loop of an “e” — the momentum gets away from me, and whoops! There goes a second one. Dammit. Sometimes I stop and correct the problem, but I tend to be more neurotic about a tidy-looking signature than I am about having a correctly-spelled one, so crossing out the offending string of curly-cues is not an option. Usually, I just suck it up and let it ride. Hell, maybe no one will notice.
Unless, you know. I post about it online or something.
Anyway, I apologize in advance to the purchasers of the signed Apex anthology. I swear to God, I sat there and signed every single one of those sig sheets. I didn’t outsource the project to Bangladesh or anything … I’m just a moron with a pen, that’s all.