Last night, I arrived home to find my contributor's copy of a publication. Getting accepted is always exciting, and so is seeing the work in print—either on paper or online.
However, in this case, my name had been changed—just the first name—to something completely different. Not a typo, but another name entirely.
I'm not sure how it happened, and it was disappointing, but it brought up questions about the work itself and writing. What's more important: the poem or the publishing credit?
The poem, but...
This poem has not only found a home in the world, but out in that world it is completely separate from me. It's standing on its own entirely.
I'm not sure how I feel about that, but it's a learning experience.
Have you ever been published as someone else? How are your poems a part of you, a part of who you are?