I'm going through the final proof for my September book, and it's an odd thing reading what you wrote months ago. I also feel the same way about reading my books after they're out - which I've never actually done. Maybe glanced at a page or two, but that's it. Way too weird to go back and read what you wrote after some time has passed.

It's like looking through old photo albums and seeing pictures of yourself. There are the photos you see and think, "Aw, I remember that blue sailor dress my mom got me at Sears, it was so cute." Or "I totally forgot about that halter top with the big strawberry on it - I loved that thing!" And then there are the pictures you see and think, "Oh my god! Did I really think that Kristie McNichol part-down-the-middle-wings-on-the-side hair style looked good???!!" (yes I did). Or you look at yourself in the bleached, torn Levi's, black suede-fringed Bon Jovi boots, and Guns 'n Roses t-shirt and think, "What the hell was I thinking." (answer: I was thinking I was looking pretty cool).

In any case, it's the same reaction when reading your own writing after a while. You like some of it, hate some of it, wish you did some things different, but hope that years down the line, it will be more like the stawberry-emblazoned halter than the Bon Jovi boots.

When I was in NYC the other day, I had lunch with the editor for my teen books. She said something to me about "Jenny O'Connell" and my ears perked up. Jenny? Way back when we'd talked about whether to use the same name as my adult novels, I'd thrown the idea out there - maybe use a different version of Jennifer, like Jen or Jenny. Well, Jenny it is. Which is strange for me, because I wouldn't even turn around if someone yelled Jenny in a room. In fact, I'd probably be thinking, who'd ever want to be called Jenny?

The thing is, anyone who knows me from my childhood calls me Jenny. My best friend from sixth grade. My parents' friends. My brother's wife (who picked up the habit from my parents, probably). But I don't ever remember being called Jenny. As far as I'm concerned, I'm a Jennifer. I think when I went to college I told everyone my name was Jennifer and that's what it's been ever since. But the other day I received an e-mail from a client asking me what she should call me - was Jen okay? Did I prefer Jennifer? I realize some people may be hyper-sensitive about their names and nicknames, but I've never been one of them.

So why does Jenny bother me so much? I think because it sounds like such a little girl. One with pigtails (which I actually still wear when I go running). A girl who squeals at the sight of bugs and snakes (which I did when a long black version slithered up next to me in the garden last week). A girl who wants chocolate ice cream for breakfast (check), refuses to eat green vegetables (check), and who won't pick up a penny unless it's heads-up because she doesn't want bad luck (check). So maybe I am more of a Jenny than I'd like to admit. But at least I don't spell it Jennie, and dot my i's with hearts. That would really be way too much.