Why I Write as Susie Blue

October 21, 2026

When it came time to choose the name that would go on my books, I knew right away that I didn't want something pulled out of thin air. I didn't want a name that only sounded pretty, or one that someone else might have picked off a list. I wanted a name that meant something to me before it ever meant anything to a reader. I wanted it rooted.

So I went back to my grandmothers.

Susie Blue comes from the two of them: Suzie Maldonado and Juanita Blue Lee. One gave me the first half and one gave me the second, and when I put them side by side, it felt right in a way I can't fully explain. It sounded like somebody I'd want to sit on a porch with. It sounded like home.

I've been thinking a lot about what we inherit from the women who came before us. Some of it is obvious, like the shape of a nose or a laugh that runs in the family. Some of it is quieter. It's the way we handle grief, the way we feed people when we don't know what else to do, the stubbornness that gets us through the hard years. I can't hand any of that back to my grandmothers, but I can carry their names forward. Every time I sign a page or see that name at the top of a manuscript, I remember where I come from.

There's something else, too. Writing takes nerve. You put pieces of yourself on paper and you send them out into the world, and you hope they land gently. Choosing a pen name built from my family felt like bringing reinforcements. If I'm going to be brave, I'd like to do it with Suzie and Juanita standing behind me.

People sometimes ask whether a pen name is a way of hiding. For me it's the opposite. This name is more honest about who I am than almost anything else I could have chosen. It says I'm somebody's granddaughter. It says family history matters to me, the stories passed down and the ones that never got told. It says I believe the women in our lives shape us long after they're gone.

That belief has found its way into my writing, too. The stories I'm drawn to are about small towns and the people in them, about loss and the slow, stubborn work of healing, about the bonds between generations. A grandmother casts a long shadow in the book I'm working on right now, and I don't think that's an accident. When you name yourself after two of them, they tend to show up in the pages.

I hope that when you see the name Susie Blue, you'll think of a story told with warmth. I hope it feels like an invitation to come sit a while. And I hope, if you have grandmothers of your own, whether they're still here or long gone, you'll think of them for a minute too. Say their names out loud. Remember what they gave you.

Mine gave me a name. I intend to make it count.

Thank you for being here at the very beginning. This journal is where I'll share the making of my stories: the choices, the surprises, and the small moments when a character finally steps into the light. I'm so glad you've found your way to this porch. Pull up a chair.

Thank you for sitting a while. If you'd like the next letter from home in your inbox, along with news about Bluebonnets and Magnolias as it comes, you're welcome here.