The Joy of Being Someone Else (at Least on Paper)

On Writing • Pen Names

Because sometimes, your muse needs a disguise

Let’s be honest—sometimes, being yourself is exhausting. Especially when you come from a large, loud family with Opinions (capital O) about everything from your haircut to your choice of coffee mug. And heaven forbid you write something a little scandalous, or emotional, or—gasp—true. Suddenly, everyone’s calling, texting, sending passive-aggressive emojis, and wondering who that story was really about.

This is why I believe every writer deserves the sweet, delicious freedom of a pen name.

When you write under another name, you get to step out of the box your family, your friends, or even your social circle keeps you in. You can write boldly, weirdly, and honestly. You can invent yourself on the page—no baggage attached. You can be the mysterious noir author, the fiery romance queen, or the sardonic essayist who tells it like it is.

It’s like putting on a costume, except instead of sequins and wigs, you’re wearing confidence and creative mischief.

Because let’s face it—when you write under your real name, there’s always that tiny voice in your head saying, “What will Aunt Linda think?” Or, “If my brother reads this, he’s going to text Mom.” And poof—just like that—your fearless prose turns into a timid “fictionalized account of something that may or may not have happened.”

But when you write under a pen name? That voice goes quiet. It doesn’t even know your address.

You can write about the forbidden, the uncomfortable, the wild. You can say the quiet parts out loud, in ink. You can be a version of yourself that’s truer than the one who shows up to Thanksgiving dinner and dodges questions about “how that little writing thing is going.”

The truth is, a pen name doesn’t hide you—it frees you.

It’s not about deception; it’s about liberation. It’s about protecting your creative space from people who don’t deserve a say in what you imagine. It’s about claiming the right to write what’s real, or strange, or sensual, or dark—without anyone peeking over your shoulder and asking, “Is this about me?”

(And if they do? You can smile sweetly and say, “Of course not. That was written by someone else.”)

So, here’s to the alter egos, the secret selves, the writerly shapeshifters who get to be anyone they want on paper.