I want to be a published author. So do a lot of people. That's why encouragement is so unlooked for....but so welcome.

A very nice old lady sitting beside me here in the cafe at Borders got wide eyed and excited when I happened to mention that I aspired to be a published author. She and another lady sitting nearby asked about my recently-finished novel with rapturous interest, and Anna sat nearby and helped explain the plotline, dancing around the lesbian love story at its core like a cautious engineer around a minefield.

"When you're a big famous published author, what name do I look for?" She asked. I balked in genuine humility. I didn't feel like I deserved that compliment, especially on top of the host of other compliments I was given on the quality and fascination of my budding novel.

"I'm thinking about writing under a pseudonym. Amanda Cassandra Davenport."

And that did it. It was out. I said my pseudonym for the first time in public, and someone responded to it with interest and awe. I felt like a star already. I want to hug that dear old woman for her compliment.

But Anna's description of my novel, the project I love so much, really got me thinking. Is it so objectionable that the love story happens to feature two members of the same sex? Is it love any less, and if it's not, would the public find it so repelling to miss my attempt at creating a work of beauty and a statement of transformation? I don't doubt that I'll have to show the draft to more people before I find the answer to this vexing question, and I hope that my optimism in my generation at least isn't unfounded. I am hoping in the name of all I hold dear that there are other people that can enjoy the story for precisely what it is instead of getting hung up on superficial things.

I don't "pray" for much....but I'd be willing to for the sake of Mary and Caitlin, who deserve to be loved for who they are and for the message they can give to everyone.