Call Me By My Name—Or Not
By Barbara J. Petoskey
When my writing goes out into the world, I want my name emblazoned on it for all to see. Except for the two times I didn’t.
Real name, pen name, which byline option is right for you? Authors might opt for a pseudonym if they:
Prefer a barrier between their publishing and private lives.
Want to shield someone else from the fallout of their writing.
Need to cordon off their writing from their other professional endeavors.
Write in a genre typically associated with a gender that is not their own.
Have established certain expectations in their readers but want to try Something Completely Different.
Have a name they believe is too difficult to spell or pronounce, or that is identical or confusingly similar to someone who is already famous or infamous.
Don’t like the name given to them at birth or acquired by marriage.
Examples of literary name changes are as varied as their reasons.
Societal expectations
Back in the day, when proper ladies were expected to be more ornamental than eloquent, some female writers, seeking to avoid publicity and/or level the playing field, chose alternative names that masked their gender. For instance, Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Bronte published under the names Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, preserving their initials as well as their family relationship. Similarly, Mary Ann Evans achieved literary and popular success as George Eliot with novels such as Middlemarch and The Mill on the Floss.
Sadly, sexism is still a thing. Fast forward about a century and a half to when Joanne Rowling’s publisher asked her to use only first and middle initials on her tale of a young wizard and his friends, out of concern that boys might not want to read a story if they knew it was written by a woman.
Professional conflicts
When David John Moore Cornwell worked for Britain’s MI6, officers of the Foreign Office were forbidden to publish under their own names. Thus, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold and his other tales of espionage were credited to John le Carré.
In the mid-1970s, Stephen King’s publisher did not want him releasing multiple books in a single year, for fear of saturating the market, so King created Richard Bachman as the author of additional titles.
Branding
A different name can be helpful to signal a different subject or genre, so as not to confuse an author’s fan base about what to expect. That’s why the prolific romance writer Nora Roberts uses the name J. D. Robb for the futuristic crime stories of the … in Death series. Agatha Christie did the reverse, publishing six love stories under the name Mary Westmacott. In a similar vein, Anne Rice, famous for her tales of vampires, went by A. N. Roquelaure on her erotica.
Freedom
Like a disguise at a costume ball, an assumed name can give license to play-act a new role. When the already-famous J. K. Rowling published the crime novel The Cuckoo’s Calling, she used the name Robert Galbraith, describing it as “a liberating experience… and pure pleasure to get feedback under a different name.”
So, what identity will your writing carry? The name on your driver’s license or a new-and-improved you? If you do opt for a pseudonym, pick it with the same thought and care you applied to your manuscript. Strategies to consider:
To retain a psychic link with the real you, select a pen name that shares your true initials (à la the Bronte sisters), pluck a first and/or last name from your family tree (as did Agatha Christie), or shorten your birth name (like Eleanor Marie Robertson/Roberts/Robb).
To go gender neutral, use initials or an ambiguous first name, such as Morgan, Jordan, Alex, or Sam.
Seeking a persona suitable for your genre? Consider something tough and dynamic for action/suspense, frilly and seductive for romance, or weighty and distinguished for literary fiction or serious nonfiction. Or if you prefer, play against type.
Here’s your chance to enjoy an original persona. Who do you imagine yourself to be?
As a precaution, do an online search of your new nom de plume, to ensure it doesn’t already belong to another author or, say, a serial killer. And choose wisely, grasshopper. Your early decision may have lasting echoes.
Witness the case of Chloe Ardelia Wofford. As a child, she acquired a nickname derived from her baptismal name, Anthony. Her last name changed upon marriage, but she’d been divorced for years when her first novel, The Bluest Eye, was published under the name Toni Morrison. Still known to her family as Chloe, decades later she told The New York Times Book Review, “I sent [the manuscript] in that way because the editor knew me as Toni Morrison… I write all the time about being misnamed. How you got your name is very special.”
As for me? Long ago I wrote a personal essay a bit too revealing for my own comfort level, so I used a pseudonym derived from my middle name and my mother’s maiden name. No one I knew was likely to read the small publication anyway, but this choice was early in my career and demonstrated an excess of caution.
Years later, I placed a humorous essay about my husband’s woodworking hobby in our local newspaper, where people I knew would surely see it. In this case, I playfully used the name Joy Underhill, a coy homage to Roy Underhill, master housewright at Colonial Williamsburg and host of the PBS show The Woodwright’s Shop, which at the time was must-see TV in our home.
Take it from Nobel Prize-winner Chloe Wofford: The origin of your name is very special. In print, do you want privacy, branding, perceived cultural advantage, liberation, or simply the fun of a different you? Or is it best to just claim your identity proudly? It’s your byline. You decide.
Barbara J. Petoskey's work has been collected in books including The Best Contemporary Women's Humor, The Bride of Funnyside, and This Sporting Life; appeared in publications such as The Writer, Writer's Digest, and The Bloomsbury Review; and posted in previous issues of Author.