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Writing yourself a pen name Writing yourself a pen name
(35 minutes later)
The realisation that if I ever managed to write a novel it would have to be under another name came 12 years ago when I was sitting in the Guardian's newsroom writing a story as Sarah Hall. An email appeared from a friend: "Have you written a novel?"The realisation that if I ever managed to write a novel it would have to be under another name came 12 years ago when I was sitting in the Guardian's newsroom writing a story as Sarah Hall. An email appeared from a friend: "Have you written a novel?"
My stomach clenched. Did I exist in some parallel universe where I managed to write fiction instead of stories about libel cases and child abductions? No, I was a reporter, nothing else.My stomach clenched. Did I exist in some parallel universe where I managed to write fiction instead of stories about libel cases and child abductions? No, I was a reporter, nothing else.
I clicked on Yahoo and sure enough, there she was: another Sarah Hall, who had written a novel called Haweswater. The idea that someone a year younger than me could have written a book seemed incredible; but more appalling was the fact that she shared my name.I clicked on Yahoo and sure enough, there she was: another Sarah Hall, who had written a novel called Haweswater. The idea that someone a year younger than me could have written a book seemed incredible; but more appalling was the fact that she shared my name.
I could never do it now. Even if I managed to summon up the confidence to write a novel – trusting to an imagination that I thought had been killed off by an English degree and seven years of journalism – I could never be published as me. Someone had got there first.I could never do it now. Even if I managed to summon up the confidence to write a novel – trusting to an imagination that I thought had been killed off by an English degree and seven years of journalism – I could never be published as me. Someone had got there first.
Ten years on, my literary doppelganger hoved back into view when I first contacted my agent. "Sarah Hall," I signed the letter, and added: "(not the Man Booker-shortlisted one.)"Ten years on, my literary doppelganger hoved back into view when I first contacted my agent. "Sarah Hall," I signed the letter, and added: "(not the Man Booker-shortlisted one.)"
In the intervening decade, the other Sarah Hall had published three further novels, all either award-winning or Man Booker-longlisted, and an award-winning book of short stories. A fortnight before we submitted to publishers, in October last year, she won the BBC National Short Story award. When I used the name in my biography to be submitted to publishers – a subconscious slip as I'd long accepted I would have to abandon it – my agent reminded me, gently: "I really don't think you can be Sarah Hall."In the intervening decade, the other Sarah Hall had published three further novels, all either award-winning or Man Booker-longlisted, and an award-winning book of short stories. A fortnight before we submitted to publishers, in October last year, she won the BBC National Short Story award. When I used the name in my biography to be submitted to publishers – a subconscious slip as I'd long accepted I would have to abandon it – my agent reminded me, gently: "I really don't think you can be Sarah Hall."
Of course, pseudonyms have a long heritage. Think of George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans) or Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell (the Brontë sisters); George Orwell (Eric Arthur Blair); James Herriot (James Wight); John le Carré (David Cornwell); Lee Child (Jim Grant), SJ Parris (Stephanie Merritt) or the crime writer Robert Galbraith (JK Rowling). In Rowling's case, a pseudonym promised more artistic freedom: the possibility not to have The Cuckoo's Calling viewed through the distorting prism of Harry Potter.Of course, pseudonyms have a long heritage. Think of George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans) or Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell (the Brontë sisters); George Orwell (Eric Arthur Blair); James Herriot (James Wight); John le Carré (David Cornwell); Lee Child (Jim Grant), SJ Parris (Stephanie Merritt) or the crime writer Robert Galbraith (JK Rowling). In Rowling's case, a pseudonym promised more artistic freedom: the possibility not to have The Cuckoo's Calling viewed through the distorting prism of Harry Potter.
More prosaically, a new name can be useful for commercial reasons, if one name hasn't sold well; or to allow a writer the chance to re-brand themselves and write in a different genre.More prosaically, a new name can be useful for commercial reasons, if one name hasn't sold well; or to allow a writer the chance to re-brand themselves and write in a different genre.
As one pseudonymous author puts it: "With social media … there's a subtle move towards developing an author brand to match the books. And obviously that's easier if you're starting from scratch!"As one pseudonymous author puts it: "With social media … there's a subtle move towards developing an author brand to match the books. And obviously that's easier if you're starting from scratch!"
For Sue Mongredien, then a children's writer, becoming Lucy Diamond was a necessity when she started writing bestselling adult fiction.For Sue Mongredien, then a children's writer, becoming Lucy Diamond was a necessity when she started writing bestselling adult fiction.
"My first adult book was a bit racy so we needed to keep the genres separate. I'd just written a children's story called Lucy the Diamond Fairy (under another pseudonym) and so the name came from there.""My first adult book was a bit racy so we needed to keep the genres separate. I'd just written a children's story called Lucy the Diamond Fairy (under another pseudonym) and so the name came from there."
Using a pseudonym can be freeing, she said: "I could reinvent myself all over again if I decided to try a completely different genre, for instance."Using a pseudonym can be freeing, she said: "I could reinvent myself all over again if I decided to try a completely different genre, for instance."
It can also be creatively liberating, as the literary novelist John Banville explained in the Guardian last month when talking about his crime-writing alter ego, Benjamin Black. "They are two different writers who have two completely different processes," the Booker prize-winner said. "I certainly like the Benjamin Black books more than my Banville novels because they are pieces of craft work." But that creative freedom may diminish if the writer's identity is revealed. As journalist Jonathan Freedland, aka thriller writer Sam Bourne, says: "Is it liberating? It was at first – when the book was just a manuscript sent to publishers and no one knew it was me. As soon as that secret was out, the name itself stopped making a difference to the writing process. But fiction – for a journalist – is hugely liberating, whatever the name on the cover."
Yet, if adopting a pen name can be freeing – allowing the Guardian's Jonathan Freedland to write bestselling thrillers as Sam Bourne, for instance; or romance writers, sometimes already pseudonymous men, to dip into erotica – there are also drawbacks. Yet, if adopting a pen name can offer a writer creative freedom, there are drawbacks. Choosing a different name creates a layer of deception between writer and reader in an era in which social media strives to ram that gap closed. (Although, conversely, adopting a persona offers a layer of protection from intrusive questions and increasingly personal Goodreads and Amazon reviews.)
Choosing a different name – particularly a different first name – creates a layer of deception between writer and reader at odds with an era in which social media strives to ram that gap closed. (Although, conversely, adopting a persona offers a layer of protection from intrusive questions and personal Amazon and Goodreads reviews.) If you try to keep your identity secret, you can't go to events or festivals; be pictured in newspapers, or be open about your possible success. And, if you become hugely successful, you'll have to come out eventually – as Madeleine Wickham, the author of the Sophie Kinsella books, did. After a certain level of success it's somehow more respectful to be honest with your readers.
If you try to keep your identity secret, you can't go to events or festivals; be pictured in newspapers, or be open about your possible success. And, if you become hugely successful, you'll have to come out eventually – as Madeleine Wickham, the author of the Sophie Kinsella books did. After a certain level of success it's somehow more respectful to be honest with your readers.
Mongredien admits: "I do feel ambivalent. It's good in that it keeps things separate but at the same time I find it really odd, at publisher's events for instance, when I'm introduced as Lucy. I always explain it's a pen name because I feel like a fraud otherwise. I explain my reason and people are fine with it: they understand it's done a lot."Mongredien admits: "I do feel ambivalent. It's good in that it keeps things separate but at the same time I find it really odd, at publisher's events for instance, when I'm introduced as Lucy. I always explain it's a pen name because I feel like a fraud otherwise. I explain my reason and people are fine with it: they understand it's done a lot."
Freedland also admits to feeling conflicted. "I was once out with my kids when a double-decker bus drove past us with an ad on one side announcing the new Sam Bourne novel. I thought then it'd be nice if that was their dad's real name on there, if they saw their own family name. But my younger son [Sam] at least gets a private thrill every time he sees Sam Bourne: as far as he's concerned, it's him."
I certainly found the process of coming up with a convincing pseudonym disorientating. I tried the Sophie Kinsella formula of a middle name and mother's maiden name – and came up with Elizabeth Jelbert who sounded too elderly, and quaint, to have written my novel. Eliza, Lizzie, and Liz tethered me too firmly to a different age.I certainly found the process of coming up with a convincing pseudonym disorientating. I tried the Sophie Kinsella formula of a middle name and mother's maiden name – and came up with Elizabeth Jelbert who sounded too elderly, and quaint, to have written my novel. Eliza, Lizzie, and Liz tethered me too firmly to a different age.
In the end I realised I was no good at any kind of deception and opted for the solution staring me in the face: I used my married name. It still looks strange seeing it on the cover, since Sarah Vaughan has never written professionally. Freedland, having written a non-fiction book, Jacob's Gift – the title inspired by the birth of his first child – knew he needed to be Sam to prevent any sibling jealousy. "I saw the pseudonym as a way to even things up."
Yet, perhaps it is apt. Though I would have loved Sarah Hall to have written The Art of Baking Blind, she belongs to a world of 6-800-word news reports, press conferences and lobby lunches. She might have been allowed a drop intro – and encouraged "to sparkle some star dust" as one news editor once put it – but she would never have written this. "The last name was a pleasing coincidence," he adds. "My agent reached for 'Bourne' as a place holder: he'd passed a poster advertising The Bourne Identity movie on his way to the key meeting with the publisher. But I liked it. The Righteous Men, my first novel, was hatched in 2004. When was my son Sam born? Also 2004. Sam born, Sam Bourne. The name felt right."
• Sarah Vaughan's The Art of Baking Blind is published by Hodder & Stoughton For a while I toyed with a name that incorporated both my children's. But, in the end, I realised I was no good at any kind of deception and opted for the solution staring me in the face: I used my married name.
It still feels strange to see it on the cover, since Sarah Vaughan has never written professionally. And yet, perhaps it is apt. Though I would have loved Sarah Hall to have written The Art of Baking Blind, she belongs to a world of 6-800-word news reports, press conferences and lobby lunches. She might have been allowed a drop intro – and encouraged "to sparkle some star dust" as one news editor once put it – but she would never have written this.
• The Art of Baking Blind, Sarah Vaughan, is published by Hodder & Stoughton