Folks who know me understand what fun it is to have my name, and have it frequently misunderstood, verbally mangled, or with extra consonants added to make it into a more common (though male-identified) name. I thought
this blog post was fascinating...
And I liked this bit, too:
And I only got my silly record and book reviews published when I started using a pseudonym. Were they suddenly more readable?
There's a reason why I didn't publish my novels under a pseudonym, but I wonder every single day how my books would have sold if I had gone with my considered psuedo, "Mia Wilder". Hmmmm.
I often think upon my maternal grandparents, Leardine and Lemon. I always thought both of their names were fantastic. Apparently "Leardine" was the name of a Jewish lady that my (unnamed) great-grandmother kept house for down in Louisiana in the earliest decades of the 20th Century. I also thought that (the origin) was fabulous, and apparently Jewish Leardine was an open-minded, generous, protective sweetheart.
Also I am reminded of a great ad-lib by M. Doughty on the BT track "Never Gonna Come Down":
"Charisse - what's up with that - English girls with ghetto names - I LOVE that shit!"
(I am also a fan of the name Charisse.)
Carry on...