It's time for the August edition of the Insecure Writer's Support Group. Be sure to visit Alex J. Cavanaugh, and the rest of the talented bloggers who will welcome you with open arms.
I'll never forget the summer of '67 when our parents took us to Anaheim, CA to see the All Star Game. My dad and brother were huge baseball fans, and my mom and I were excited to be minutes away from Disneyland. Many of the best players in baseball were staying at our hotel, so my brother had his autograph book with him at all times.
Though I was only six, I still remember my mom calling my dad to come directly to the pool, as Sandy Koufax was seated only a few lounge chairs away from us. My brother got his autograph, along with Willie Mays, and several other Hall of Fame players. He guarded his autograph book with his life, and couldn't wait to show all of his friends when we came home.
These memories came flooding back to me when my husband went with my brother, and our boys to a baseball game over the weekend. When they were younger, they also enjoyed waiting for their favorite Cubs to sign their baseballs.
Though I never had any luck getting famous authors' autographs, I've dreamed of being asked to sign a copy of my own book. Unfortunately, that dream could turn into a nightmare, as I've always had horrible handwriting. It was especially illegible on hot school days. As a lefty, my teachers delighted in seeing my smudged papers. Most autographs are written with permanent marker, which means trouble for me even on a cool day. Though I haven't actually written my life story yet, and odds are no one will be lining up for my autograph, all it takes is for one displaced person to ask.
This brings some important questions to mind. If this person is kind enough to pay for my book, is it right for me to deface it with my careless cacography? Would this crime go on my permanent record? I could pretend I'm a Notary Public, and carry my own personal stamp with me at all times. Better yet, I should just change my name to Anonymous.