You would never know from reading my blog, but I don’t like to bring attention to myself. When I’m out with friends, I’m not the one singing along with the music or “dancing in my seat.” I’m more of a spectator than a participant.
I’m outgoing, but I used to have way more of a type A personality than I do now.
When I first started writing, I knew I didn’t want to use my real name. I had a used book business, selling children’s books online to homeschoolers. I wanted to keep my writing and my used book business separate. I also thought homeschooling moms might not be my target audience. And what if I flopped? I didn’t want to embarrass myself. The books could jump off a cliff along with my pen name. No harm, no foul.
So, how to come up with a name?
The first name was easy. I swiped my granddaughter’s name. Maddie.
I wanted a French last name. I am seventh generation French on my father’s side. My maiden name is Marchand. It’s on the champagne bottle on the cover of my book, Murder Is Where the Heart Is.
For more than a few weeks, I struggled to find a name I liked. I hadn’t published anything yet, but I was writing the third book in the Susan Hunter series, Sin City Hunter. I wrote this line in the story:
Dad went to get the car while the three of us waited for him under the hotel’s porte cochere.
There it was! The French word had naturally flopped onto the page. I loved it. I quickly changed the line to: Dad went to get the car while the three of us waited for him in the hotel entranceway.
Not as nice as porte cochere, but it sufficed.
I told my family I finally had my name – Maddie Cochere.
And I embraced the name big time.
I’ve answered to Maddie for almost twelve years now. I have a credit card and checks in the name of Maddie Cochere. I order from Amazon with that name. My PayPal account is in that name. I have pretty much evolved into Maddie Cochere. Oooh … I’m single. I could legally change my name. Please let me know if you think that’s a good idea.
The downside? Cochere isn’t a surname, so nobody else has it. You can google me and find every stupid thing I’ve ever said or put out there on the internet. Those late-night giggle fests answering blog posts resulted in some doozies.
So, there you go. A confession of sorts. My first name is much more in line with the names given to a child born in the mid-fifties – Linda. But don’t call me that. It might be obsolete in a few months.
Breezy Books 