When I was a kid, I used to have pretty handwriting. Really, I did. Even teachers would comment on it. It was something that I was proud of; after all, I was a professional colorer--that's how serious I was. Eventually, I would go on to repeat a phrase that I picked up from, oh, I don't know, somewhere and I'd sign my name saying, "Keep it, it'll be worth millions one day." I had to be a tween, and I'm sure I didn't actually believe it when I said it.
Perhaps that is why I broke out into a cold sweat when my friend, Nadia Salem, asked me to autograph her book. (She preordered from Barnes & Noble and it arrived several days early.) It literally took me about five minutes to stop sweating and giggling nervously to settle down and figure out what I wanted to write. The words had to be exact. The signature had to be perfect.
OMG, I'm a published author. Settle down in the role, I said to myself.
And I did. Another friend, Dawn Osborne, rushed out to that same Barnes & Noble and bought a copy. She brought it to work for me to sign. And that time, it only took three minutes of nervous giggles and a tad bit of cold sweating.
OMG, I'm a published author. I really am. Breathe, I told myself.
With each signing, I'm sure it'll get a little better. Right?