There are names we are given.

And then there are names we grow into.

For years, I’ve wanted to change my first name. Not because I wanted to become someone else, but because the name I was given never quite felt like it belonged to me.

Somewhere along the way, Scarlett did.

It started quietly. Online spaces. Creative spaces. Friends.

Then, without anyone really deciding it, Scarlett became the name people actually used for me.

My friends call me Scarlett.

I introduce myself as Scarlett.

I write as Scarlett St. Faith.

And every time I hear it, there is no strange little disconnect. No moment of remembering that someone means me.

It simply feels like my name.

So lately I’ve been considering making it official:

Scarlett Wendy Jackson.

I love the idea of keeping Wendy as my middle name. I don’t want to erase every version of myself that came before this one.

I just want the name at the front of the story to be one I chose.

Maybe that is fitting for this particular season of my life.

I’m writing Blackwood Collegium.

I’m building Black Raven Press.

I’m creating worlds, websites, strange little dragons, forbidden archives, and an alarming number of ravens.

And somewhere in the middle of all that creation, I think I finally realized I’m allowed to create a little piece of myself, too.

Not a new person.

Just a more accurate name.

Scarlett.

Yeah.

I think I like the sound of that.

🐦‍⬛

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Filed in The Vault: notes from behind the books, beneath the feathers, and occasionally from the author herself.