March 18th 2017
Today I sold a signed copy of my book. It’s the first time I’ve ever had to sign one before, and it felt a bit weird. I’ve been giving out copies to my family as presents, but my Aunty said that she wanted to buy one, so as such she was my first ever sale. She also told me that she wanted a signed copy – so that it would be worth more.
So I got her one printed, and then signed the inside.
I didn’t know if I was supposed to, like, do my signature, or write my name, or write a personalised message, or what? In the end I went for the latter two.
And I did a swirly kiss thing to sign it off, rather than my own signature – because that’s weird.
I also now realise that I have the handwriting of a dyslexic six year old. The message I wrote was perhaps not the most original or moving, but it was personalised and honest. I’m always really bad at writing cards, and I guess that goes for inside-covers-of-novels too.
The thing is, I now imagine that the other people to whom I have given a copy are going to want theirs signed as well. Maybe I should come up with a cool, original signature for scribbling on books.
Being asked to sign a copy of my own novel sounds very official, but it’s not as official as I’d like it to be – yet. The copy she has is basically one I just got printed online, it’s not been done for me, but it still kinda counts, right? I mean, I still had to write the damn thing.
Maybe the next one will be more official. Maybe someone will pay me to get it printed, rather than the other way around.
Until tomorrow, I better work on my signature.