Below Author K.M. Weiland Schools Aspiring Authors On The 5 Mistakes New Writers Often Make — runtime 49:06

To Use or Not Use A Pen Name or Pseudonym

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Credit: by Robert Lee Brewer of Writers Digest JAN 14, 2020

How and When Should Writers Use a Pen Name or Pseudonym? When should writers use a pen name or pseudonym? If they decide to adopt one, how should writers use a pen name or pseudonym? We dive into these questions here.

While speaking at a workshop over the weekend, I was asked about using a pen name. The writer already had a byline as a journalist and wanted to break into women's fiction and romance. So there were a couple questions: When should a writer use a pen name? And how should a writer use that pseudonym when dealing with editors and agents?

These are common questions I'm asked frequently at live events in person and online. So let's look at how to handle them.

There are any number of reasons to use a pen name. In the example above, I believe the journalist wanted to create two bylines: one for journalism, the other for romance and women's fiction. Often, this can be a good reason to create a pen name. For instance, one writer created his pen name, because he already had a novel from another series published under his real name.

However, there are other good reasons for using a pseudonym than just competing bylines or genres. For some writers, they prefer anonymity. Others feel their name is too common or that their name is too close (or exactly the same) as an already established writer and/or celebrity. And some like the liberating power of putting on a new persona.

All of these (and more) are valid reasons to use a pen name or pseudonym. Once you've decided to take this route though, how do you deal with the outside world?

How Should a Writer Use a Pen Name or Pseudonym?

As an editor, I've had to deal with a few freelancers who've used pen names, and this is what I would suggest for anyone submitting their work under a pen name or pseudonym. I encourage other interpretations to be shared in the comments below.

First, I believe you should make pitches and submissions using your pseudonym and that you don't need to let your editor or agent know you're using a pen name until your work has been accepted. If you have experience or reach with your real name, it's likely that will only benefit you if you use your real name on your current project. So if you use a pen name, become that person.

Second, I prefer freelancers who use pen names to communicate with me using their pseudonyms. This may not be applicable with all editors and agents, but it helps me avoid putting the wrong name in the byline—or spending significant time double and triple-checking that I'm using the right name.

Of course, you'll want to make sure your correct name is included on your tax forms and in your contracts. In fact, your contract should probably include your real name with a note that you're writing as (pen name).

Final Word on Pen Names and Pseudonyms

To use or not use a pen name or pseudonym is a personal choice. There's not really a right or wrong answer on this—unless you do share a name with a well-known author and/or celebrity. Just remember: If you do use one, be ready to take on that new persona (even if it's very similar to your actual identity).

BY ROBERT LEE BREWER

Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Editor of Writer's Digest, which includes managing the content on WritersDigest.com and programming virtual conferences. He's the author of 40 Plot Twist Prompts for Writers: Writing Ideas for Bending Stories in New Directions, The Complete Guide of Poetic Forms: 100+ Poetic Form Definitions and Examples for Poets, Poem-a-Day: 365 Poetry Writing Prompts for a Year of Poeming, and more. Also, he's the editor of Writer's Market, Poet's Market, and Guide to Literary Agents.

                      

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THE WRITERS TOOLBOX 🧰 

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Credit to Wikipedia and this article’s contributors. 

Deus ex machina (/ˌdeɪəs ɛks ˈmækɪnə,ˈmɑːk-/ DAY-əs ex-MA(H)K-in-ə,[1]Latin: [ˈdɛ.ʊs ɛks ˈmaːkʰɪnaː]; plural: dei ex machina; English "god from the machine") is a plot device whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem in a story is suddenly or abruptly resolved by an unexpected and unlikely occurrence. Its function is generally to resolve an otherwise irresolvable plot situation, to surprise the audience, to bring the tale to a happy ending or act as a comedic device.

Aristotle was the first to use a Greek term equivalent to the Latin phrase deus ex machina to describe the technique as a device to resolve the plot of tragedies.[8] It is said by one person to be undesirable in writing and often implies a lack of creativity on the part of the author. The reasons for this are that it damages the story's internal logic and is often so unlikely that it challenges the reader's suspension of disbelief.

Examples: The Ark of the Covenant, which serves largely as the MacGuffin in Steven Spielberg's Raiders of the Lost Ark(1981), serves as a deus ex machina at the ending of the film: When it seems that the protagonist, Indiana Jones, has been beaten by the Nazis, the wrath of God rises from the Ark and kills the antagonists, with Indiana conveniently and inexplicably knowing not to look at it.[14]Avengers: Endgame writers Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely admitted the time travel plot device in the 2019 film was the result of having written themselves into a corner in the previous movie.[15] Also, the sudden arrival of Captain Marvel in the climax of the film has been criticized as bordering on a deus ex machina because "her late arrival to the final battle ... feels like a function of her powers being too strong".[16]The Great Eagles in J. R. R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings carrying Frodoand Samwise out of Mordor have been critiqued as a deus ex machina.[17][18]Lord of the Flies: A passing navy officer rescues the stranded children. William Golding called that a "gimmick"; other critics view it as a deus ex machina. The abrupt ending conveys the terrible fate that would have afflicted the children if the officer had not arrived at that moment.[19]Oliver Twist: Charles Dickens used the device when Rose Maylie turns out to be the long-lost sister of Agnes, and therefore Oliver's aunt; she marries her long-time sweetheart Harry, allowing Oliver to live happily with his savior Mr. Brownlow.[20]The War of the Worlds: The Martians in H. G. Wells's novel have destroyed everything in their path and apparently triumphed over humanity, but they are suddenly killed by bacteria.[21]

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              Suspicion of Disbelief

{In my toolbox but not really a tool I can use: it’s more of an abstract idea. But if you tell a good enough story it will kick in; However, those with a pessimistic mindset are apt to reject this mindset saying, “ This is so fake, it's not like this in real life…”}

Suspension of disbelief is the avoidance—often described as willing—of critical thinking and logic in understanding something that is unreal or impossible in reality, such as something in a work of speculative fiction, in order to believe it for the sake of enjoying its narrative.[1] Historically, the concept originates in the Greco-Roman principles of theater, wherein the audience ignores the unreality of fiction to experience catharsis from the actions and experiences of characters.[2]

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             🧩 Show Don’t Tell 🔑

“Show Don’t Tell A Guide To Stronger Writing —With Examples”

Credit and kudos to: Brook Evitale

“What does Show, Don't Tell mean?

"Show, Don't Tell" is an immersive method of writing in which characters and story are related using sensory details and actions. The point of “showing” is to pull the reader into a story by engaging all five of their senses. Showing allows a reader to feel like they are in the moment, and in the room with the characters, rather than simply a bystander observing the story from a distance.

Show, Don't Tell example:

Tell: 

James stormed out of the room.

Show: 

“That’s it!” James shouted. 

Standing, he shoved his chair in, its legs scraping against the yellowed linoleum flooring with a shriek that made me wince. Behind me, the door slammed, a splinter of wood falling to the ground from the impact.

Pro Tip:

How much more detailed the show example is. 

From this, we understand that James was angry and stormed out. But we also get a sense of setting: yellowed linoleum tells us this is an old room, most likely a kitchen. The scraping of the chair is a visceral sound that we can almost hear, and we can imagine how hard the door must have been slammed to make the door frame break.

Showing also allows a reader to read into the book, to infer information about a character. For example:

Show, Don't Tell example:

Tell: 

She had been crying.

Show: 

Her eyes were puffy, and red-rimmed. Dried streaks ran down her face, leaving discolored patches on her makeup.

Here, we don’t need to be told directly that the girl was crying. By showing us how she looks, we can infer that the girl has been crying. The same can be done through actions. We don’t need to be told a character is cold. We can see them shiver, see them pull their jacket tighter, or see them rub their hands for warmth. All three are more interesting and engaging than simply saying, “He was cold.”

Why does Show, Don’t Tell matter?

Telling is boring. It’s straightforward and does nothing but give us the facts. There is no emotion behind it.

Showing, on the other hand, makes a reader feel what is going on. It gives the reader a sense of character and of setting. It is compelling. And that makes a reader want to keep turning the page.

Showing is also a great way to further character development. Instead of simply telling us how a character acts, we can see—and infer—from their actions. Look again at the example from above:

“That’s it!” James shouted. 

Standing, he shoved his chair in, it’s legs scraping against the yellowed linoleum flooring with a shriek that made me wince. Behind me, the door slammed, a splinter of wood falling to the ground from the impact.

At no point do we need to be told that James is angry. We get it from the context of the scene and from his actions.

All of this matters because, as writers, we want readers to care about our characters. We want them to be invested in our stories. And that starts with pulling a reader in and letting them get to know our characters as intimately as possible.

5 Show, Don't Tell tips with examples

Of course, it’s easy to say “Show, Don’t Tell,” but how as a writer can you actually do that?

Use internal thoughts

One of the best ways to show rather than tell is to get us into a character’s head. Let the reader see what they are thinking and how they feel about a situation at the rawest emotional level, rather than just leaving it at “She was sad.”

Show, Don't Tell example:

Tell: 

Alice cried as she watched her mother leave.

Show: 

Alice sunk to the ground. How? How could she just . . . leave? The tears streamed down her face, but she hardly noticed them. Her eyes were focused on the door . . . waiting. Please. Please. Just open.

Use dialogue

In the same way that internal thoughts let a reader get into the protagonist’s head, dialogue allows a reader to understand what the other characters are thinking. Use your dialogue to show a character’s emotions. While using “said” is often the best option when it comes to dialogue tags, there is a time and a place for louder dialogue tags, often when you need to show a particularly emotional scene.

Show, Don't Tell example

Tell: 

She laughed.

Show: 

“And then he went—he went—” Maria shook her head, her laughter so hard she couldn’t get the words out. Holding up a hand, she tried to catch her breath. “He went head over heels over the chair!” she howled, clutching her sides.

Use strong verbs

Remember that the simplest verbs are also the most boring. So use stronger words. Did a character walk, or did they stomp, storm, or prance? Did they cry, or did they whimper, sob, or howl?

Create a sense of setting

In a picture book, art tells the story as much as the text. But in a longer novel, the author has to paint the picture.

Show, Don't Tell examples:

Tell: 

The walls were cream.

Show: 

The walls were painted eggshell, with cracks running down them that made it apparent no one had thought about this room in ages. On the ceiling, a water spot seemed to grow with every minute.

Tell: 

Something was burning. I tried to open the window, but it was stuck.

Show: 

Smoke poured from the oven, and the acrid scent of burnt meatloaf filled my nostrils. I tried to open the window, but years of caked on paint had made it impossible to budge.

In both cases, we get a stronger sense of scene. The cracks in the walls and the caked on paint on the window both tell us that this is a run-down setting, not someone’s warm cozy home.

Include sensory details

The point of showing is to draw the reader in—to make them feel like they are a part of the scene, not an outside observer. And being part of a scene means employing our five senses, so give the reader something to grasp onto.

Show, Don't Tell example:

Tell: 

The room smelled funny.

The room smelled of spices. Cardamom and saffron and paprika, and something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
By digging deeper into the specifics, the reader is invited to use their senses to visualize the room, making for a more immersive and emotional reaction to the scene.

When is it okay to tell?

Not every word in a book needs to utilize show, don’t tell. There are times when, as an author, you want to get through something quickly. Moments that progress the plot, but aren’t pivotal to the story. If they aren’t emotionally charged moments, or if the setting doesn’t matter, then by all means, tell the reader what’s happening.

Tell example:

Suzy grabbed her keys and ran out the door. If she didn’t get to work on time, she was going to be late.

Here, we don’t need to see what Suzy’s keys feel like or what the room she’s in looks like. The point is that she’s in a rush, and that’s enough.

Tell example:
John hurried through security and down to the boarding gate. Showing his ticket, he made his way down the jet bridge to his seat.

Again, the fact that he’s boarding a plane isn’t necessarily important. Where he’s going probably is, but the specific details of getting onto the plane can be glossed over. We don’t need to know what color the walls are or what the plane smells like, unless that invokes some bigger memory or thought.

Remember, when it comes to writing, there is always a place for telling. But if you want to keep a reader interested, Show, Don’t Tell. Draw your reader in and then hold their attention by immersing them in the world you’ve created as thoroughly as possible. Your book and your storytelling will be that much richer for it.

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