Pseudepigrapha

 Scholars have a fancy name for ancient texts that claim to have been written by someone who clearly isn’t the author.  The word is “pseudepigrapha.”  It’s a way of admitting that we know who didn’t write something, but we’re not fooled by the attribution.

The modern equivalent, to some extent, is the pseudonym.  The pen name.  Nom de plume.  Nom de guerre.  Assumed name.  Alias.  Most pen names can be traced to an author’s real name by those very interested.  Even famous writers use them.  For many reasons.

Stephen King, for instance, even after becoming famous, has written under a pen name from time-to-time.  And J. K. Rowling used her initials so that it wouldn’t be obvious she was a woman.  Those of us who make a living doing something else sometimes use pseudonyms because of our jobs.  That’s why I do it.

Now that my first novel is under contract with Parisian Phoenix, I’ve been thinking about the challenges of promoting your work when you use a nom de plume.  It isn’t easy being pseudepigraphal.

For one thing, how do you do book signings?  I have to stop and remind myself that I’m not famous.  Indeed, locally I know very few people.  Who’d even know who this Marvin really is?

I’m old enough to remember when publishers could do all the marketing and promotion for a book.  Those days passed long ago.  I plan to market and promote my book, but identity online is a bit easier to discover.  Anybody have a pixel I can hide behind?

I’ve been thinking about this for years, but since I couldn’t find a publisher I never had to reach any resolution.  Maybe dark glasses and a fake beard?  And what if I’m no good at disguising my voice.

Ironically, I write to express myself.  In the corporate world, cogs are valued more than creators.  This hasn’t licked me yet.  I’ll be promoting Interview with the Gorgon next year, and even before.