When I first started my “I’m really going to do it this time” writing quest, I thought I’d write using a pseudonym. Then, as I put the time and devotion into my writing, I had a change of heart. I wanted the world (or at least my part of the world) to see my name written on the front of something had I put so much of myself into. So, when the day came that I signed my name on the dotted line to make my dream a reality, I went into the process with my legal name standing tall.
Not long into the process of publishing my first book I developed an identity crisis. I’d always known someone with my same wonderful name had published cook books. With such a distinction between romance books and cook books (despite many great love affairs with food, including my obsession with Lindor Truffles), I figured I’d be safe still using my legal name and thought nothing more about it. After one final recent search to make sure I was still safe on being the first to publish under my name, I found some news that deflated my happy balloon. Someone had just–and I mean just–published a book using my legal name. Dang it!!
After some deep thinking and some wonderful advice, I decided that in order to keep myself distinct, I would need to develop a pseudonym. The decision may have been made but the problem–nor my identity crisis–was far from solved. I wanted the name I used to mean something. To still have a part of myself appear on my books. Not just something I threw together because it sounded nice (or the baby girl name I never got to use because I’d been blessed with three amazing boys).
After a night of tossing some okay and some not-so-great names around, I had a breakthrough. There isn’t anything in the world that means more to me or is more a part of me than my children. From there I started to think of ways that the names of the three best boys ever could be used to create the new me.
After mixing and matching–and a little hair pulling–my identity crisis was solved and Addie Jo Ryleigh was born.