Call me Ana. The temptation to follow that line with a cute little winky emoticon is strong, but I shall resist. I'll be straight with you; it's not exactly my real name. For boring and entirely common reasons, I have followed the footsteps of many writers and chosen a pen name.
There is something particularly surreal about choosing a name for yourself. It's almost like taking on a second identity, a chance to become someone new. In my everyday life I live with an exceptionally common name. Growing up, I bemoaned my mother's lack of originality and coveted the more glamorous names of some of my classmates. Jasmine, Genevieve, Sabrina: those were the names to have. Those names evoked a mysterious and undeniably feminine air. I have, since my schoolgirl days, kept a short list of names that have all the most desirable qualities as possibilities for my possible future daughters. Knowing all this, it probably seems odd that given the rare chance to name myself I chose Ana. At least I went with an atypical spelling. ;)
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