About

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That's me, reading the Sunday Times

I was born on a Saturday afternoon in the Presbyterian Hospital of Albuquerque, New Mexico. My father is a writer and my mother is a loving educator who plays handbells.

My parents named me after Kit Carson, a frontiersman who spent time in New Mexico as an Indian guide.

At an early age people called me Kit. It suited me fine. I was small, quiet, and blonde. Kit. Just three letters, and unusual next to my common last name.

During my first year in college I spent too much time with Billy Gupton. Billy called me Kit. That's how he knew me, but I was Carson to everyone else. And it felt silly by then introducing myself as Kit.

It didn't happen over night, but eventually I got used to the name. I began writing for a newspaper and typed my name, my byline Carson Smith, above the first article I wrote.

My dad suggested adding the middle initial, so I did.

I wasn't me until my name was in print.