Chels

I always thought that if I became famous, I’d use a stage name or a pen name. I’m not sure why. It’s not that I dislike my name, I think it just feels overwhelming to have so many people know your name. At least if it’s not your real name, there’s still a bit of privacy, you still get to own your identity in a way. One thing I didn’t know, though, was the name that I’d use. How do you choose a name to represent you, especially when your identity is so tied to the one you already have?

Pen names have always fascinated me for that very reason. Why do some authors choose to go by a different name? What’s the meaning behind their chosen names? And would their careers have been different had they gone by a different name? That last one is a bit tricky to measure, but it’s still interesting to think about.

Women Writers

The most common (and least shocking – at least to me) uses of pen names come from female writers using male pseudonyms. This was especially prevalent in the 19th century (as is often the case – the Victorian era seems to get a lot of criticism when it comes to women and work. Iconic female authors originally published under male pseudonyms – George Eliot and George Sand were actually Mary Ann Evans and Amandine Lucie Aurore Dupin. Interestingly, while both of them chose to use a male pseudonym to be taken seriously as writers (as many female writers did), these two writers also both were quite well known by their real names, and both led quite scandalous lives. Mary Ann Evans took George from the name of the married man she was in a relationship with, while Amandine Lucie Aurore Dupin abandoned her husband and children to live the bohemian lifestyle in Paris, often dressing in men’ s clothes, too.

During their lifetimes, the Brontë sisters published their works as Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, and it was only after the deaths of Anne and Emily that Charlotte revealed their true identities. The sisters wanted to retain their privacy, and feared they wouldn’t be taken seriously as female authors. Charlotte herself said ‘We did not like to declare ourselves women, because we had a vague impression that authoresses are liable to be looked on with prejudice.’ 

Elizabeth Gaskell published her early works, mostly short stories, as Cotton Mather Mills, but published the novels she is best known for today under her own name. It’s especially interesting that she published under a male pseudonym and her married name, but never her maiden name. I wonder if she had the same thoughts as I do about keeping that key part of one’s identity private.

Branching Out

For some authors, using a pseudonym is almost like creating a second identity. Louisa May Alcott is best known for her domestic fiction, most notably Little Women. She also wrote sensation fiction – taboo stories intended to shock readers – under the pseudonym A. M. Bernard. It’s widely believed that she did this to keep her works separated – her adult works would not be associated with her children’s fiction this way.

Stephen King wrote as Richard Bachman for a few reasons. Firstly, as a prolific writer, he wanted to publish multiple novels each year, but this was discouraged by his publishers. He also felt concerns about his own success – worried that it was his name which drew readers to his stories, rather than his talent. The Richard Bachman name had no previous success attached to it, and no famous association, though King still felt uncertain, as his alter-ego was discovered only seven years after Bachman’s first novel. In 1989, King revealed the ‘death’ of Richard Bachman in the dedication of his novel The Dark Half. Since Bachman’s ‘death’, two of his novels have been released posthumously, having allegedly been ‘found by his widow’. King certainly committed to the concept of the pen name, inventing Bachman’s backstory, his death, and even insisting that Bachman be credited, rather than King, in adaptations of his novels. He does take credit for the works though, having rebranded them as The Bachman Books by Stephen King.

Other authors have rebranded under pseudonyms with less success. The author of the Harry Potter series released adult fiction under the name Robert Galbraith in 2013, though she was quick to reveal her identity after the books only sold 1500 copies. Even after her identity was revealed, she continued to publish under the pseudonym, though it became clear that the sales boost and continued success of the series was pretty heavily influenced by the fame attached to her name. Allegedly, of course.

Do Initials Count as a Pen Name?

So many authors seem to go by their initials, and for countless reasons. I’m not sure if this counts as using a pen name – though it is a distinct name they go by for their writing, and in a lot of cases, I don’t think we can recall the authors’ ‘real’ names. One hypothesis is that female writers use their initials as a way to not draw attention to their gender. We tend to default to the assumption that it indicates a male name, so female writers aren’t held back by expectations and presumptions about their work based on their gender. Statistically, though, this isn’t necessarily true. Looking at a list of well-known writers known by their initials, it’s about a 50/50 split between men and women, so while many female writers do choose to adopt a less overtly female name, it’s not the main reason.

J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis both used their initials primarily for their own privacy, but also because of the belief that the names held a bit more literary grandeur – they felt more academic, and were taken more seriously. I definitely think this is an attitude we still have today; hearing the name D.H. Lawrence does feel different to David Lawrence. It’s hard to explain why, but since the notion has been around for a long time now, it’s surely ingrained into our culture. 
It’s really interesting to think about how the names chosen by authors have impacted the way we view them. Would early female writers have achieved the same popularity if they’d used their real names rather than male pseudonyms, or even initially publishing anonymously? Would Little Women have remained such a staple of domestic literature if Alcott’s name was also tied to taboo novels? And one of the most fascinating to me: how far would Stephen King have taken the Richard Bachman alter-ego had his identity not been discovered? Pen names tell us a lot about how writers think and feel about their work and their identity, but they also illuminate societal views – on writing, women writers, taboo, and our rights to privacy and anonymity.