Richard Kriheli

Who is this Kriheli guy?  How can we sell him?  

Nope, no running tricks here. These questions will undoubtedly arise if an interested party reviews my work. Aside from all this pointless blogging and my day career as an Internet Maharishi, I write fiction. I am approaching the stage where I will need to find a home for my work as I prep for my submission run in the coming months. But I am plagued with a small dilemma.  Where I have near full confidence in my prose, I am cracking at the bits when it comes to my name.

Name? Why is this important? Well, for one – a snappy nom de plume makes someone easily recognizable and memorable (of course, when paired with solid work.) From a marketing standpoint, I’m no fool – this could be a critical piece of the plan. While I do realize that I carry a unique last name, it is still difficult for your average dimwit to pronounce.  KREE-HELL-EE is the way I pitch it.  Instead, I am met with gems like CRY-HELL-EYE, KRILLI, KREELI and I have even been graced with CRYLLIC believe it or not. Actually, it is easy for me to believe because I have come to the conclusion that people are plain lazy. I am not about to hop into “John Smith” territory or anything but given my penchant for the written word, I feel I can come up with something interesting. After all, I did author an anonymous blog under a pseudonym in the past that seemed to work. So, this dilemma needs to be resolved for me to go forward. I will attempt to reconcile this shortly and be done with it. So I really have two choices here:

1) Keep the name.
Kriheli is my birthname. People already know me and I have already pimped myself enough on the internet to feel like a dirty trollop (they don’t call me Filthy Rich for nothin’). Pros: Not everyone knows my background so there is an air of mystery around it – I often field questions about it. Cons: Not catchy, and pronunciation could be awfully butchered.

- OR -

2) Go with a Pseudonym.
In college, I was asked to use a pen-name on two occasions. One time, I used Papermate (har har), and the other time Sam Clemens (Mark Twain’s real name). I think I have since shed my arrogance and corn, and will try to be less of a dick. Pros: A good pseudonym is memorable and can define a career. Cons: Birthname gets lost – Richard Kriheli who? Also, I’d have to get a new domain/website rolling to not confuse anyone. Also, choosing an alias is the lyrical equivalent of a tattoo for a career – changing it down the line is tricky.

That said, I turn to you. My audience of word lovers and fellow writers. Those who love and appreciate language and the beauty of the written word alongside yours truly. I need some opinions and a nice, healthy debate on the merits and pitfalls of both options. In the end, I make the final call on this. When a writer approaches agents for representation and publishers for the proverbial go/no-go decision – they are often asked whether they know their audience. Consider this post just my attempt at getting to know what you guys want.

And yes, you are now my pimps.

I’ve got white hairs. Forget gray or silver. Effin’ white! Granted, I’m no spring chicken, but come on!

See, I’ve got this awful and nervous habit of pulling hairs from my beard/goatee while working, reading, watching tv, etc. Last year, in the midst of one of my pluck-athons, I pulled one that quite simply stunned me — stark white. Upon closer inspection via restroom-mirror, the anomaly was confirmed as anything but. White hairs have invaded my turf, err… face. And, it was only the beginning.

When I turned thirty, my knees started getting cranky and my head hair began thinning. I am going to the bathroom more frequently and I can’t leg out an infield single without a hammy pulling up lame. Fast forward four years later, and I am staring at salt and pepper on my face when I wasn’t exactly expecting seasoning.

Aw, who am I kidding? How could I not expect it? My race towards middle-age is blind if I don’t embrace this quick. They say it’s a mark of distinction and character. It makes a man look distinguished. Bah! What if he still wears a Mets jersey, jeans and needs to drop about twenty? I am not exactly Sean Connery here, folks. And I am not about to sport a phony accent and cuff-links either.

I’m also not the type that will be shaving my face entirely or scurrying to Duane Reade for a box of “Just for Men.” Screw that. Twenty-Zero-Nine is here as I prepare for yet another trip around the sun. Everytime I see the sun rise is another day where my body takes a hit. White hairs or not, I am ready for you, middle-age. Ready for you to serve me my proverbial crisis on your plate. Hey, I’ve got the seasoning all set.