Is A Rose Still A Rose?

“Tonight, Ladies and Gentlemen, the Los Angeles Dodgers extend a warm welcome to Elisha and Miranda* visiting from Zermatt, Switzerland.”

As the PA announcement blared through the stadium, our eyes darted to the giant message board above left field. Sure enough, our scheme had worked. Clearly, it was the exotic birthplace that had secured a screen all to ourselves.

Mindy and I dissolved in girlish giggles--an ironic contrast to the sophistication and glamour we’d borrowed from a fabricated name and birthplace.

As the years went by, Mindy became Melinda with a lifestyle befitting the name, but me? I’m still plain old Randy.

So, as I consider using a pen name, Miranda comes instantly to mind. (‘Randy’ gets mistaken for a guy’s name, and my surname doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Not great for a romance author.) Could I legitimately become Miranda at last?

Hell. Tonight, it dawned on me that I’m no more Miranda now than I was at seventeen.

Can anyone picture Randy Jean on a book cover?? Or, does the middle-name-as-last-name suck? Keep in mind, we’re talking mostly romantic comedy and snarky chick-lit.

Hm. Maybe.


*We used our real last names.