After a great deal of thought (starting long before I knew Maggie was with child) I finally settled on my grandmother handle:
Poppy.
I love both the flower and the word itself — it’s soft and round and cheerful.
(Plus it sounds British.)
I presented it to the Naming Committee months ago… but it was summarily rejected. (Well, first there may have been an argument about naming rights. And also, Maggie declared that Poppy belonged to a grandparent of male persuasion. She did, though, helpfully suggest I deed it to Keith.)
I tried to, I really did. I flirted heavily with Mimi, Nana and Mumsy. I spent the weekend with Nonny. I even went on a website that promised hip grandmother names.
(It didn’t.)
One friend suggested Kaka (thanks) and another came up with Lovey–but that was my girlhood poodle — who was once described as the Most Hated Dog in America because she’d pee in guests’ suitcases.
While pining for Poppy I decided to use it in a different way and gave it to one of the characters in my new novel. (Yet another upside to writing fiction.)
But then, out of the blue (or maybe a few more pleading emails) Maggie said she’d changed her mind, I could be Poppy after all.
Which made me really happy.
But if you read my next book remember I had the name first.