Today, my book, Bit Flip, finally launches into the world! As I celebrate this milestone and my publicity campaign around the book really kicks into high gear, I’m gradually coming to grips with a physical challenge I didn’t realize I have.

I’m not a very good writer.

I don’t mean writing blog posts and novels and stuff—those things I’m passably competent at. I mean actual handwriting. With a pen.

This impairment is one that I have apparently been living with for some time without even knowing. The extent of my handwriting challenge was revealed to me recently as I’ve started sending hand-written thank you cards, writing cover notes, and signing copies of my book. On many occasions, I’ve been horrified to notice my handwriting appears to be stuck at a 3rd-grade level. It’s so bad, I’m starting to question if I’m really right-handed. Perhaps it would look better if I wrote with my left hand. Or my toes.

Like a lot of professionals, especially in tech, almost all of my writing is done on a keyboard. Handwriting is a disappearing art form. Most children today skip right past handwriting, learning only texting. The last thing I hand wrote was a Post-it Note. I used to occasionally take notes by hand, but I haven’t really done that since circa 2004 when Evernote came along. I’m just much more efficient in QWERTY or my thumbs than in ink. I can type about 2,000 words a minute. Faster than my brain can keep up. Consequently, my handwriting has atrophied. My pace for handwriting is about one word per half hour. It requires near-total concentration not to miss a letter, or forget how to even form the letter in the first place.

A cheat sheet I keep with me at all times. (Photo by Poppy Thomas Hill on Pexels)

In addition to the slow pace, my writing style is stunted as well. My grade school writing teacher might be proud of the proper cursive I’ve retained into my adulthood. Far from the illegible scrawl of a doctor or a lawyer, my handwriting is a continuous script of loops, curves, and ornamental flourishes. Unfortunately, those characteristics also make it look like a child’s diary from the 1980s. It only gets worse when I write in colored ink, or use lined paper, or add smiley faces to dot my i’s.

Copies of my book I managed to successfully sign at Kepler’s in Menlo Park.

I could keep my handwriting shame a secret if it weren’t for these damn book launch events. I had the privilege of signing a stack of my books at my local bookstore, Kepler’s, today. Each signature appeared to be written by an entirely different person. My hand started cramping after signing approximately three. I’ve researched signature stamps on Amazon but that seems like cheating. My greatest fear is that a reader will ask me for more than just my signature, like a personalized note or tribute. It might mean I only manage to sign one book during an hour-long book event.

To remedy this situation, I bought a box of Sharpies yesterday and have started to practice. My recycling bin is filling up with what look like the scribblings of the Unabomber. ATF may soon be raiding my house. But with a full calendar of events this fall, I’m hopeful I can at least learn to mimic the effortless penmanship of a professional author. Wish me luck!

Writing Impaired