Jayde Layne is a pen name.
Originally I sought to write under my given name, the long drawn out beauty of a name my mother and grandmother blessed me with, a name that I am grateful for, but that sounds like an old woman, who is only hold a remnant of a distant youth she never fully grasped.
Jade Gabriel, seems so stoic and while it’s meaning is beautiful I when the two are paired with my (and this is opinion) Last name I always feel stuffy and proper, which I’m not in the slightest (Unless of course I have to be). So, growing up I took my self through an array of pen names, a few even stuck with me to the point that I use them as usernames for gaming like J.J. Gabrielle or J. G. Elle. Often times though they were corny or evidence of me being entirely too literal. Like my middle school to early high school pen name Wryter Alias….
One of my favorites is based upon an unexplainable obsession I seem to have with stereotypical in appearance Asian Men, Asion Blu. I look back at old journals signed with this and cringe at myself. My silliness. This latest pen name Jayde Layne is one that I simply can not shake, I’ve tried imagining bookshelves lined with books I’ve written with my full name scrawled across the front cover Jade Gabriel Hampton or Jade G. Hampton and I sigh and the books turn into some reference manual that I was forced to make for some office meeting I didn’t want to be at and the entire fantasy is ruined. So I re-imagine the Jayde Layne in thick, playful letters and some title that I’ve undoubtedly been carrying around for a few years and presto zesto! I’m in fantasy heaven.
The last part of that name actually comes from a mutual friend of my mother and I. She wanted me to marry one of her sons who coincidentally was homosexual at the time, or is homosexual, I’m not really sure (speaking of coincident, one of my best friend’s mom had the same plan and her son turned out gay too. maybe it has something to do with the idea of marrying me ) I stole the last name, added a y (to both names) and fell in love with it.
Now at 24 going on 25 (yeesh) I assumed I would be published by now, being whisked off to exotic locations to sign books in coffee shop bookstores and hide myself in stone-walled cottages hidden by trees and possibly a waterfall, maybe even a cave somewhere in Arizona (as that’s where I reside), to write. The issue with this dream is that, for all my journaling, I spend more time daydreaming about a story than I do actually writing it, and since a reader can’t grab hold of my brain, flipped it open and enjoy themselves daydreaming becomes pretty useless after a time.
Honestly, I can plan out an entire story from start to finish in little more than a few minutes of getting an idea, but it will be a year before I even commit a character’s name to paper and even then it become a battle of rather or not I want to tell their back story before their story, blah, blah. So I’ve decided, only this morning to try something new. I’m going to write about myself. I am going to write about myself writing and as this is my second attempt at keeping a blog, I’m going to (attempt) to do it far more consistently than once a year.
Because I’m moving out of my parents house, into my own place, I’ll be on a budget, my journal is just about full and I don’t think I can bear writing in a spiral notebook because I have uppity tendencies. So there it is, this is a thought blog where my goal is not to be coherent but creative and updative (which is now a word).