Hancock's Half Hour

It’s a little known fact, but I have two signatures: the discrete, introspective, contained signature I use for my credit card and the monstrous Hancock I use everywhere else.
    Like most of us, I practiced my signature when I was younger. Experimenting with different sweeps and crosses, switching fonts for the capitals, signing and not signing my middle initial, dotting my i’s with love hearts – that sort of thing.
    So when I was asked to sign a copy of my book for the first time a few weeks ago I was well-prepared. I raised my pen for the historic moment – and drew a blank.
    I had not forgotten my own name, but I had been thrown by the request of the book’s owner. “Write something good”.
    There was a bit of me that wanted to point out the more than 80,000 pretty good words would follow my signature. If those didn’t do it for you, you were probably not going to be impressed by the dozen or so I put in front of it. But the request was from a friend and even if that weren’t the case it would still have been an honour.
    I drew a blank. That’s only good in Scrabble.
    I spend more time pondering birthday cards than anyone you know. If you’ve ever had a message from me on your birthday that says “best wishes”, it’s because I’ve no idea who you are. Someone has put the card in front of me to sign and stood over me while I did. I hate “best wishes”. Every message I write needs to be tailored to the recipient or I might as well have rubber-stamped it; got someone else to sign pp – ideas I am not necessarily opposed to.
    I finally signed the book three hours later, having spent a sizable portion of that time thinking about it, and it was only afterwards I realised I would have to mend my ways. I couldn’t possibly “do a signing” if that meant I would show up at a book store and do *a* signing. I needed a new approach.
    So to save time, if you’d like a personal message from me in your book, I’ve provided a few prepared ones below. Just ask for message one, two or three and help keep the line moving.
    Personal message one – [Your name], I hope you enjoy the book, David Porteous.
    Personal message two – My darling [your name], if this book could make you feel as the labour of your loins made me feel only last night, I should count myself the greatest writer who ever lived. Endless love, D.
    Personal message three – [Your name], meet me at the casino at midnight, the microfilm is hidden within this volume – tell no one! A friend.
    In other news, Singular now has its own Facebook page where I’ll post bits and bobs and maybe even start some conversations about the book. I just posted one of the rejected pictures for the book cover.

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