I'm Known As Ladymermaid

Writers do not save their memories in pictures and videos. Their special moments in time are saved in hastily scribbled notes on little bits and pieces of papers. These memories so quickly captured, are then just as quickly tossed aside to lie scattered about, and patiently waiting to be picked up and reevaluated at a more convenient time.

In these tiny little thoughts and memories lay the basis of blogs, short stories, books, advice columns, newspaper editorials and a look inside the heart of a writer. From a paper napkin tucked into a jacket pocket at a local restaurant come the words, "He examines her like a scientist would examine a bug under a microscope". The writer remembers the young couple at the restaurant that night, he remembers the look in their eyes, and he begins to write. The writers memory, becomes a feeling, it stimulates his imagination and he writes.

For him the memory must be made visible so he writes to capture it. His memory then becomes a moment in time that someone else will also be able to feel and enjoy. The vision becomes clear to any who read his written word and it is this that he passes on. His thoughts on the situation, his emotions, his views, imagination and instincts all come out in the writings. His very soul is exposed.

By the writers bed lies a notepad and pen, it waits for any thoughts that might come as he lays in bed waiting for sleep, or if he wakes in the middle of the night from a dream that needs to be captured. On the pad are the scribbled words, "She is warm as the sun, her skin is as soft as a newborn kitten, and thankfully she is mine" and he smiles as he remembers the night that he wrote those words. Then he leans over and softly kisses his sleeping wife.

This is a writers life.

To a writer his identitiy is his work and his work in turn becomes his identity. His creations and his promise of future creativity are what portray his image to the world. The better his reputation as a writer, than the better the likelihood that his work will be desired, purchased, and eventually net him increased monetary gains. The mention of his name brings images of his life's work to mind. So why would a writer choose not to use their given name to represent them?

Why would a writer choose to hide their true identity, their very history and their reputation, behind a pen name? I am one such writer and how I decided to identify myself in my articles, came as a deliberate choice created to represent who, and what I now am.

It is a very unique experience to have the opportunity to view your name in print. It is a testimonial to your hard work, set out for the rest of the world to see, and to ponder. The pride that comes along with your accomplishments is garnered largely in fact by seeing that lasting symbol of your heritage beaming proudly back at you, that traditional symbol of all that you are and all that you will ever be, your name. So why would that name not be used by a writer? Why would a writer choose instead to be known by a pen name or alias?

In my case I found that I could not connect myself emotionally to my legal last name. My last name is one that I acquired through a marriage that went astray. For some reason my former husbands last name remained attached to me. Although the issue of not returning to my given name was at first an oversight that occured during our divorce, I later decided that I would not want my maiden name returned to me either, it is no longer who I am. I am a much different person than the little girl who grew up using that name to identify herself. So the question arose as to how I could come to display the woman that I have become to the rest of the world.

I thought of writing using only my first name to identify my work. It is a beautiful name and one which I am proud of, but somewhere amidst some small degree of confusion, my last name somehow managed to make an appearance again. There it was, shining glaringly out at me in printed form, reminding me of a person that I no longer am. I just did not like that image. I could see no logical reason for identifying my accomplishments with a name that although mine at the current time, may not remain mine for any clearly determined point of time in the future. A name that I had no emotional attachment to.

I am no longer a part of my ex-husbands life and so no longer consider myself to be a part of the history or representation that is identified with his name. I could see clearly that carrying his last name around with me was a major problem in my ability to create an identity for my works and for myself.

I had already concluded that if I married again, I would probably again take my man's last name as my own. I would do this because I know that I would be proud to be a part of his life and all that he represents to the world. I would also be very honored that he would offer to share his name with me. However, within my own accomplishments I would still want to be recognized on my own behalf, recognized strictly for my own merits and not those of someone else.

I came to the conclusion that I needed my own name!

I selected an alias that I felt symbolized not only my given name, but that also had the ability to reflect all of the many facets of the new person, that I have grown to be. I wanted to show the world how powerful I am, how strong and determined I am, how content I am. There was only one moment in time that encompassed all of these feelings, and it was what I saw as most representing myself, so I used those emotions to determine my pen name. That is why a mermaid now represents all that I am, and all that I wish to express within my identity, and my life's work.

When I am swimming, I am alone, and I hear only the water as it swooshes around me. I feel the power within my body as I push the water past me, I feel the strengh within my strokes, and I know the tremendous force that I have over that mightiest of all elements. It makes me feel strong, graceful, and beautiful all at once.

I am totally alone in that world and in my thoughts, in my very quest, swallowed up by the water around me. It is at this time that I imagine I know how a mermaid feels as she swims through the ocean, only the sound of the water and her heart beating as her companions, her strength as her justification to continue on with her life. She is totally alone and yet totally content with this. She exists entirely within her physical and emotional strength.

Pen names are chosen for a variety of reasons. Mine because it appropriately represents me. I am Ladymermaid and I am proud to sign it to each of my works.

I smile a lot. I laugh a lot. It is what people say they notice most about me. My attitude. I have plenty of it and it comes out even when I don't want it to. When I am tired, I whine. If you disappoint or hurt me, I cry. When I am angry I swear like a sailor.

I am very emotional, I can't help it, that is just the way I am. I certainly don't have a poker face. I have no ability to be deceptive and I can't lie worth beans. I have a tendency to collapse into hysterical giggles if something amuses me. I am very honest, strongly loyal to those who are loyal to me, and an optimist.

I have dark green eyes and long dark lashes. My eyes are my best feature maybe because they also reflect the emotions that I am so well known for displaying. My hair is fine and very long. Although I am inching up on fifty it is still dirty blond. I am a little overweight but my curves are nicely balanced. My weight bounces up and down within a twenty pound radius on an almost constant basis. I'ld love to have it head downward and stay there but for the moment it just doesn't seem to be an option that I am able to attain. I'm not disappointed with my looks. In fact, considering all the aspects of my life that make me who I am, I am rather proud of my appearance.

Although I was extremely shy as a child, as I have changed during my lifetime, I have become very assertive. I have drive and determination. I am a moral person, but just as everyone else does, I select my priorities and determine the importance of my beliefs.

I look like your average person on the street. I look like every other person out there. But I am not. I carry a secret.

My secret is a rare illness, it waits in the depths of me to steal away everything that I am, and everything that I fight so hard to be. No one knows. I look like every other person out there. I just look like me.

My illness causes me to be extremely fatiqued which is most likely the reason for my inability to control my emotions. I spend the majority of my time exhausted and wanting only to crawl away into hiding so I won't have to deal with all the little details of life. Of course that isn't possible so you'll often see me out there ranting at my car for not doing what it is supposed to. Or laughing insanely at something cute that someone or something has done. I'm really not crazy. I'm not quite to the point of being certifiable. I am just me. My personality may be a little too vibrant for today's world, and I may be a little on the edge most days, but that is just who I am. I have a whole lot of personality and I am not afraid to use it.

It is just who I am. It is me.

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