November 12, 2005

Mr. Jackson

I write under my maiden name. I always have. But I LIVE under my married name. I KNOW what my name is, okay? I don't know how this fact escaped me. As rams said in comments, you would think I was drafting a book or something, braindead as I have been for every other pursuit. And generally speaking, I have a pretty good idea what SCOTT's name is as well. So. I know my name, I know his name, and yet somehow these facts escaped me when I was telling the co-ordinators of the Mercer Author Dinner that yes, my husband would be attending with me.

SO, when we got there, I saw his nametag and place card said, Scott Jackson. I was so charmed! I stole the place card. And I spent the whole of this elegant evening waiting for conversationally busy moments where I could lean over to him and, all undetected, trill "I'M THE BOSS OF YOU!" in his ear. Then he would wait stealthily for an equally busy moment so he could lean in with one of three stellar comebacks. 1) NUH-UH, 2) NO, I am the boss of YOU, or 3) I'm rubber, you're glue... We would nod and say a pithy something about whatever the topic of more general conversation was, and then we would poke each other under the table.

I swear to the LORD: I am twelve.

It was a lovely dinner though, very charming and chatty bunch at our table, and I got to meet some writers I wanted to meet, and hope I will meet more today at the Author Luncheon and Signing. Scott is not going, and I am not drinking, so therefore The Magic 8-Ball indicates I MIGHT behave. I do my best work with a glass of Shiraz and a co-hort.

In other news, I am making a new friend. It's nice. It's rare, you know, to meet someone and have that odd, immediate, and practicaly audible *click* as the conversation turns into a tennis match, zinging back and forth in a long, unending volley and no one loses and no one wins because no one misses any balls. AND SHE IS A WRITER. And a dern good one. Which makes me happy because we can talk SHOP. AND SHE IS A YANKEE! A dern good one of those, apparently. Which makes me happy because I can make fun of her Yankiness and she quibbles about what a Yankee is and whether or not Philadelphia QUALIFIES as a Yankee town, and um, Karen? Yes. It does. If you aren't southern or western, you are a Yankee, and I say this while squatting in a patch of cotton and shamelessly picking my teeth with a weed. OH YES, I DO.

REMEMBER Blogging for Books is Live and ENDS at midnight your time on MONDAY, so post your entry in the COMMENTS SECTION OF THIS PAGE.

First place gets a signed first edition of Megan Crane's new book, Everyone Else's Girl which Kirkus calls
"Amusing, heartfelt and emotionally sophisticated chick-lit."

Posted by joshilyn at November 12, 2005 6:56 AM

It is so nice (and somehow reassuring) in a world of snark (which I admit I also find fun!) to read about a couple who have been together a long time and are still friends and still know how to have fun together. Yay Joss and Mr. (Jackson) Husband!

(Have I used my my quota of paranthetical asides for the day?)

Posted by: DebR at November 12, 2005 9:29 AM

I would have done the same thing to MY hubster.

Posted by: Heather at November 12, 2005 9:43 AM

It was once my dream to get my PhD so that our mail would come addressed to "Dr. and Mr. Wilson" because I wanted to say things like "I'm the boss of you" to Kevin. Then we had three kids and now it's my dream to get a full night's sleep. But it still sounds like fun - glad you got to try it!

Philly is Yankee. Serious Yankee. I was born there, I know. ;)

Posted by: Amy-GO at November 12, 2005 10:18 AM

Philly ain't Yankee to a Mainer.

And I understand that during WWII it drove our Southern soldiers nuts that they were considered Yanks.

A flexible term. But nothing compared to the black American doctor in Haiti with Paul Farmer when he discovered that to the locals he was a "blanc" with the rest of 'em. (Any Northern Exposure fans remember Joel's fury when Marilyn called him white?)

Posted by: rams at November 12, 2005 10:56 AM

I am not a famous writer - DUH! - but I do have a professional name, which is my former married last name, but not my current married name (NO, I'm not getting married again.) Poor Ducky has no idea what in the heck my name is an at times (after 13 years) I get confused too.

I am a Dj in a town of 7200, outlying area 30,000. It doesn't bother me when people don't know who I am (I've lived here for 33 years.) But, what does drive me crazy is when I walk into a place and someone calls out a hello to me (my name is Calista) and another someone inevitably turns around and says "Flockart?"

Triple argh? Does this butt look like it needs a sandwich?

Posted by: Cele at November 12, 2005 11:40 AM

Wait, how come my Yankee-ism wasn't tormented when we became friends? Is it because I was not tennis-quick-like with the comebacks? Or because I am not a real writer?

Do you SEE how high my mental illness number is right now???

Posted by: Mir at November 12, 2005 3:25 PM

Hey, why don't we sing THAT in church?

Posted by: Heather at November 13, 2005 9:59 PM

er.... my comment was SUPPOSED to be on the newer post about Maisy's song.

Posted by: Heather at November 13, 2005 9:59 PM

I write under my maiden name as well. And Lord, would I love to have someone call my spouse, Mr. Glenn!

Posted by: Edgy Mama at November 14, 2005 2:27 PM

I never changed my name when I got married - it just seemed like too much trouble at 38. The majority of the time, I get letters/phone calls from the husbands family or telemarketers addressed to Mrs. My Husbands Name. But every now and then he gets called Mr. My Name - and I rub it in each and every time!!! Love it.

Oh, I live in Philly and we're most certainly Yankees up here.

p.s. Love your blog.

Posted by: Karen at November 16, 2005 1:04 PM