My name is Michael…& so is his…and his…

I don’t know if this is funny or ludicrous or just pure frustrating, but…well, my name is Michael Robbins. I should have realized this was a common name. In school when the teacher called out, “Mike!” in roll call, three hands usually went up. I signed up to recently to push my book. I’d used my own name on account of the fact that my pen-name hadn’t exactly worked out; part of that was on me, I’m afraid.

So I went back to my given name, I mean why not? I have no reason to feel shame for it, I just thought a pen name would set me apart from the pack. (Tip for all prospective writers: a writer who edits himself has a fool for a client–believe me I know). However, there is another Michael Robbins with a much larger resume of books, a poet & also a Goodreads member.

Right. The next thing was to try the middle initial; how many Michael D. Robbins’ could there be? At least one other, my friends, a mystery writer. Fine, let’s use the diminutive, just plain Mike Robbins–who is also a writer distinct from myself. In the words of Charlie Brown to the football–“AUUUUGH!”

   That’s where I’m at right now. I’ll probably laugh about this when I’m older. Of course I turn 50 on May 1st, so I hope it’s not much older than that. Thanks for putting up with this.