I See You Misspelled My Name

But who cares? It's stolen anyway.

The only people in the world who call me “Nicole” are my doctor and my grandmother. Meemaw is no longer with us, so unless you’re my doctor, it’s Nicci. However you choose to spell it.

My parents and I have been at odds about something for years—decades, actually. Since my very earliest days, we have not been able to agree on this one small detail that also makes up a fundamental aspect of my identity.

How. The heck. Do you spell. My name? Is it Nikki? Nicci? Nicki? Niki? JUST TELL ME ALREADY!

The question comes up regularly, even today. Because I’m not satisfied unless things are complicated, I go by a weird spelling most people have never seen before. And then, of course, with the last name Kadilak, it can seem like my Cs and Ks have pulled the ol’ twins switcheroo and traded places just to delight in your confusion. But the controversy is nothing new; it’s been a fraught subject since my single-digit days.

My young childhood was one big identity crisis, as it is for everybody, and I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what name suited me best. My given name is Nicole, but everyone in my family always called me Ni*i (however it was spelled). Still, I liked Nicole in theory and tried it out at school from time to time. It was confusing as hell for my friends, and probably for the teachers who bothered caring what I liked to be called.

“Hey, Ni*i, what’s up?” a friend would ask when she sat down next to me on the bus.

“It’s Nicole,” I’d say, exasperated. As if it was her responsibility to know I’d changed it up in the 12 hours since I’d last seen her. And then, once people had had time to get used to Nicole, I’d be back to Ni*i, knowing somewhere beyond conscious thought that Nicole was good for special occasions, like school enrollment forms and doctor’s visits, but it wasn’t comfortable enough for everyday wear.

But how should I spell this name I’d finally accepted? My parents, of course, already had a spelling for it. I had been scrawling it with its harsh lines and sharp corners, since preschool: NIKKI. But taking that at face value would have been way too easy.

There are a multitude of ways to spell Ni*i, and I tried most of them. When I was first starting to recognize spelling patterns, I thought maybe Nikky would be the way to go, like puppy or kitty. In my minimalist days, I tried out Niki. Who needs double-consonants, anyway? Nicki made a brief appearance, just for some variety.

And then I met a girl named Nicci. She was a couple years younger than me, the daughter of some of my parents’ friends. Nicole was actually her middle name, but her first name was about 5 decades too old for her. The first time I saw her name written down, I was smitten. I’d never seen this particular spelling before. And, as my whole ethos at age 11 was “be different, be unique,” this version ultimately (and ironically) won.

Nicci I became, and from sixth grade on I had a firm sense of which kind of Nicci I was. For years I still grumbled when people would misspell it, or when they’d see it written down and mispronounce it. but, like with all other things, I chilled out as I got older. I do still get a little indignant when someone replies to an email where they clearly have seen my name in the last half-second of life and still spells it wrong, but—hey. I’m the same person who has misspelled agent names on submissions, so I really can’t get too high and mighty about it.

As long as you call me by my name, I mostly don’t care how you spell it. And I am happy to laugh along folks who try it out before they hear it aloud. Nixi? (That’s what Siri says 😂) Nee-chee? Nee-see?

Nope. Just Nicci. Pronounced like Nikki but with two Cs.

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This week’s essay started out being something different. But to write what I really wanted to write, I needed to give you this background first. Good news: I already know what next week’s Note will be about. 😉

See you Friday with your weekly dose of EEE. Don’t forget, I’ll be asking you at the end of February if you like the W/F split or if you’d rather keep everything together.

Until then, take care

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