I used to really despise my name. It’s not a bad name. But for a long time, I could never understand what my parents got out of the name “Raven.”
In all fairness, I didn’t always hate my name. I’m lucky it’s not the sort of name you can make fun of or give rhyming teases (like Stanky Franky or Fat Pat – OK, those are really lame, but you catch my drift).
Nonetheless, I wasn’t fond of Raven and I would’ve loved to have a nice, “normal” sounding name like Cindy or Jennifer (well, not really those names -but something just as “everyday”).
In hindsight, those types of names don’t exactly fit me. When people meet me, they’d remark about how I looked like a “Raven” – whatever that means. Then, however, they’d ask me if it was my real name. Actually, I would get asked that a lot, “Wow. Raven. Is that your real name?” What can be weirder, having a name so unusual that people ask if it’s actually your’s or actually having a name that sounds “fake”?
The bothersome problem with my name is that it was just interesting enough.
Then, that’s when the love/hate affair began. I’d go to one minute loving the fact that both my first and last name are 5 letters long, roll smoothly off the tongue, memorable and gave a subtle poetic homage to Edgar Allen Poe.
Yet, when talking over the phone or during introductions, I’d end up repeating my name 2 and 3 times to people who’d insist on calling me Robin, Reagan, Raymond or Rayban. Soon, to cut through the misunderstanding, I’d preface sentences with, “My name is Raven, like the bird.” It sounds asinine – but I was desperate for people to get my name correct the first time they heard it.
Then, I thought perhaps my name sounded too odd. Was Raven an appropriately corporate mainstream name? Not that it matters now, because I’m nowhere near corporate anything. Did it matter then (when I was “corporate mainstream”)? I don’t know. I didn’t run into any complaints then and none so far. Employers used to think I was an actress using Raven as a stage name; now people think I’m a writer using Raven as pen name (although, I think Writerbabe suits me just as well).
I guess every name has its drawbacks. And, like a new pair of shoes, it takes some getting used to. Once I was able to get over the fact that my name wasn’t perfect – and I would never be a “Cindy,” I could more easily remember that nothing is perfect and that is just perfectly fine.
The Writerbabe Series 