Becoming "Famus"
This is the only picture of me in the 80s I can find. I'm 7, not 13, but close enough, right? I wrote my first novel at age thirteen. Afterward, poring over my 400-plus-pages of loose leaf and notebook scribblings, I just knew a literary star had ignited its nuclear engines. The only question, of course, was which nom de plume to adopt. In true teenaged fashion, I devoted days to this Very Serious Investment in My Future™. I consulted the local library, super-supportive junior high besties, and at least 2/3 of my sisters before finally landing on a surefire formula. My first two legal initials are “L. J.”* World weary, thirteen-year-old me apparently knew far too well the patriarchal lay of the land, because I felt certain obscuring my sex would lead to better sales. Obviously, I should outsmart this gender-unequal system by switching my first two initials, from “L. J.” to “J. L.” Ha ha! Take that , sexists! But, what to do for a last name? Worry not, friend...