Initial Pretension

Initial Pretension

This week I received a contract for a short story I wrote and submitted in the same week. It was a fast turnaround, and after sending it off I fully expected I would have ample time to edit and rewrite for future submissions.

So, hooray for not over-thinking a piece.

Before sending back the signed contract I had to make a decision. I publish under my own name. It's a common name—practically a cliche. To distinguish myself from all of the other Patrick Murphys out there I include my middle initial, like Heinlein and Clarke. I don't pretend to be in their class, but I do have the same drive to tell stories and be recognized for it.

The contract omitted my middle initial from my byline.

It's early days for me, and this is the time when I need to establish my "brand." For more then an hour I sat on that contract trying to decide if I wanted to risk offending the editor over one letter. It's my name and how I want to be recognized, my proud and defiant half insisted. If demanding that my credit be properly listed earns me a refusal, then so be it.

But I want to be published, whined my other half like Luke wanting to go to Toschi Station. What if the editor decides they don't want to work with an obvious diva?

I sent the signed contract along with a note requesting the inclusion of the missing F. For the next few hours I practically wore out the refresh button on my email inbox. I lived in fear of seeing a reply, yet fell into despair when it failed to appear. Those emotions were nothing compared to the bone-numbing horror that stopped my heart when the publisher's response popped up.

I held my breath and opened the message.

I am nothing if not a dramatic paranoid. The publisher said they completely understood and would make sure my middle initial was included in my byline. Thank you misters Heinlein and Clarke.