Jenny Benny Boo* talks about Writing

My name? It isn't Jennifer. It never has been Jennifer. I have only ever been Jenny. Just Jenny.

And so, here on the blog, I'm Just Jenny too. MommyJ? It's still me. Except, now you know what the J stands for. Change is good sometimes, yes? I like change. I like evolution, and in many ways, that's a little what this feels like for me. See, for the past four years my writing has fit here, in this blog space where MommyJ was a perfectly adequate way to identify myself.

But here's the thing. My book? Not gonna have MommyJ written on the cover. And while every single blog reader doesn't also have to become a book reader (though it would be nice, yo) I'm thinking I best make it easy as possible if someone does happen to venture from blog to book, or vice versa. (You know... in 12 years. When the book finally hits the shelves.) So Jenny is me. Jenny I am. Just Jenny I be.

It still feels a bit like an identity crisis. But mostly, it feels like it doesn't make a hill of gravy beans worth of difference. Either way, now you know who I am.

Can we talk about writing for a few minutes? I've just finished rereading my manuscript in preparation for some preliminary revisions I've been asked to make before the official edit begins. It's been a while since I've read it beginning to end, so it's been really fun to read with fresh eyes. Fun, and painful in some ways. There are parts that I am already itching to change, and delightfully so, some parts that I really, really love as well. You know what's been hard though? This was the first time I've ever read the entire thing knowing full well that eventually, OTHER PEOPLE ARE GOING TO READ IT TOO.

And that?

Makes me... embarrassed? I'm not sure that's the right word. I think vulnerable is better. See, these experiences that I've written - kisses, fights, triumphs, tragedies - they only exist because I thought them up. They are, because I made them so. Even though I'm not writing about my fights or my kisses, in a way, it still feels like I'm sharing a part of me; like I've sliced open a part of myself, put it on a big shiny platter, and said, "Here world! Have a go at this!"

I realize I do this every time I push publish on the blog, but somehow, this feels different. Because the blog? It's just me. And I already exist. I don't make stuff up about my life. It just is what it is, and that's that. But to create something out of nothing, something that I hope will touch people and make people smile and become a little part of people, something that will sit on bookstore shelves and be picked up and read by strangers who may like it or who may not like it... well, that just about scares the pants right off of me.

But. Pants on or scared right off, I'm certainly not turning back now. I'll be hangdogged if I let a little bit of feeling vulnerable get in my way. Because this writing that I do, while scary, is also fantastically fun. While I am terrified to share my words with you, I also cannot wait to share them with you. How's that for confusing?

*What the who? It's what my family called me growing up. Jenny Benny Boo. What did your family call you?