Secret Identity

Photo by Stefan Steinbauer on Unsplash

I adore my pen name and the identity I have created. Truth be told, I like my pen name way more than my birth name. I have often thought of changing my name ever since I was a pre-teen when I was thoroughly convinced I had been adopted (those angsty teen years, amirite?). Having a pen name has allowed me to create a completely new persona, embracing a more outgoing part of myself that I hadn’t realized I was hiding. 

Having a secret identity has allowed me to fully pursue my writing career in the most uninhibited and organic way that I can. It also really helps me with marketing because I am not marketing myself, I am marketing a client. 

Speaking of, I cultivated a marketing career, writing non-fiction articles for magazines and websites long before I dove into fiction writing. I had kids in 2018 and then in the middle of 2020 my marketing career took a nosedive. I lost my clients due to everything being shut down, but I was extremely fortunate in that my husband has a steady job and we live frugally enough for me to stay at home with our children. I thought I was good with this being my lot in life - a stay-at-home mom maybe picking up part-time work once the kids were in school. Turns out, it wasn’t enough. My brain finally had it and it started screaming at me to write again. The stories I want to write now are a little too steamy for the small town I live in, so the next obvious choice was to create an entirely new persona. Now, it’s the only way I feel comfortable continuing my writing career. Publishing under a pen name helps me keep my private life and personal life separate. 

A secret identity can also be so liberating for us introverts. Marketing is easier, asking for features and newsletter swaps is easier, going live on social media is easier because I can so quickly slip on a mask and become Ophelia. Becoming Ophelia (ha! that sounds like a memoir in the works) helps me go live on social media more than if I was presenting as myself. There’s something that shifts and I am immediately more extroverted, friendlier, less socially anxious with the mask of my secret identity in place. Though there’s a separation between my personal life and Ophelia, in some ways, you see a more “raw” version of me when I am in front of the camera. The introverted stay-at-home mom who constantly asks if her kids need to pee is gone. The extroverted Ophelia is here, and she is ready to partaaaaay. 

As a stay-at-home mom, I am so reluctant to go back into the workforce. I wanted a job that allowed me to be flexible, home with my kids on sick days (because, let’s be honest, there are a lot of sick days lately), available for pickups and drop-offs, after-school activities and more. My children are only four- and two-years old so I wanted to get started on my writing early enough so that when they reach full-time school age, I have a decent idea of what our schedules will look like and what I can realistically get done in a day. As a former entrepreneur, the idea of being an indie author was appealing on so many levels. I could be fully in charge of my process, write the stories I want to write (and how steamy), as well as on the production schedule that fit me and my family’s lifestyle. But writing under a pen name was one of the few ways I figured I could tackle this adventure.

Creating this secret identity has been one of the most freeing things I have done for my creativity and my future. I can shift into “work mode” quicker when I’m Ophelia than when I’m me/‘mom’. It gives me the space I need to focus and hustle. It lets me be the author I want to be, connect with my audience, and pursue the projects I want to do.

Ophelia Wells Langley is the pen name of a mother to two boys. She loves reading, writing, and knitting, and you can almost always find her chasing after her high-energy children pretending to be a dragon or a dinosaur. Her debut novel, The Borderlands Princess, released November 28th, 2022. You can find her works here: www.opheliawlangley.com and you can join her late night writing sprints on TikTok @opheliawellsauthor

 

When Nature Says 'Hold My Beer'

Bear with me. I have a story to tell. This is Perceval. Perceval was rescued by a neighbor who presented the kitten for foster care as a 'he'. Then 'he' went into heat. He became she and (because of the aforementioned heat) developed a raging urinary tract infection. A sterile draw (with a needle and syringe) of urine at the emergency vet revealed a new mystery. Perceval had sperm swimming in her bladder.

Yes. I have male cats. They're shooting blanks. Have been since December of last year.

Thus, the vet proposed the notion that Perceval might just be both 'he' AND 'she'. Jeffe, on Instagram, instantly proposed swapping out Perceval's pronoun to They. Motion seconded, voted upon, and passed. Surgery was undertaken. It was a spay - there was a uterus and nothing more internally. Had Perceval been a true hermaphrodite, there would have been a set of male gonads as well as the female reproductive organs. There weren't. However, the doctor did point out that Perceval's external genitalia are ambiguous. While there's clearly female anatomy, it appears that a pair of testicles also tried to develop. They never fully formed, so the cat didn't have to have a neuter surgery on top of a spay surgery. And the mystery of the sperm in the bladder? We may never know. Subsequent checks of the boy cats confirms they're in the clear.

What does this have to do with writing characters in SFF? Simply this: Nature and life recently proved to me that they are far too ready, willing, and able to shatter our preconceived notions about gender, sex, and identity. So getting hung up on any kind of either/or question about who's what and therefore gets to love whom, when writing seems silly. SF and Fantasy is, to me, about who characters are as individuals - including their identities, preferences, marginalization, and how they cope. This may be privilege speaking, because I'm part of a population that doesn't often have to get to grips with being in mortal peril simply for existing. I suspect that shows in my writing because while I have a trans character, a bisexual main character, PoC as main characters - in my stories, these people are rarely under threat based on being either bi, or a PoC, or trans. Mainly because part of the joy of SF and Fantasy for me is getting to dabble in a world that's much broader than this one - one that encompasses possibilities and embraces them. I'd like to think that makes me idealistic rather than simply naive. Or worse, hurtful.

Honestly. Does anyone really think that when we finally do run into life out there in the stars that they're gonna all be CIShet/clear binary with no richness? No variety? No specialization and adaptation? If yes, do you science at all? Cause yeah, nature doesn't work that way. And so long as I'm writing, neither will I.

Chase your own dang goals, Writer-You

This week I can talk about anything I want to, so buckle up. This could get weird. Also personal. There might be swearing. You have been warned.

First, a confession: for the past, oh who knows how long, I've been in a slump. Not just one of those cute temporary "oh golly, I don't know what scene should go here" blocks but a solid half year of writing literally nothing. Of complete writer-brain paralysis. I'm coming out of it, with the help of a therapist, because as is so often the case with these things, a bunch of root causes grew up, choked the crap out of each other, and formed this constricting tangle.

One of those pesky roots was author goals. Or rather, other people's goals for me as an author.

My own goals starting out were pretty simple:

1. Have my partner read something I wrote and say it's good.

2. Have a stranger, someone I've never met and almost definitely am not related to, read my book and like it. 

3. Have enough success (that is, sales) that I don't have to assume a different pen name and start over, which I've heard authors anti-affectionately refer to as "re-branding." Note that I had no idea back then how to define "enough success."

So, my first book came out, and amazingly, #2 happened. Yay! My second book came out, and whoo-boy!  #1 happened as well. (Thank you, Conejo-my-love.)

My third book... er, so here's where things get sticky. Remember how I didn't have numbers for "enough success"? Remember how it was all vague and hand-wavy and trust-everything-will-turn-outish? That was a mistake. Huge. Because instead of defining my own goals--or my own identity, as a writer--I ended up chasing someone else's goal of sufficient numbers, sufficient success. I wanted to be successful enough that my publisher wanted to keep me on, right? 

But how much is that, numbers wise? How do you achieve it? What steps do you take to make that happen?

Problem was I let my success be defined by someone else's goals, without a clear understanding of what those goals were or what they entailed, and then I appropriated all of the guilt and horror when I failed to meet those goals. 

My identity had become dependent upon someone else's estimation of success.

This is a shit way to live, people. It's a worse way to work. However, I had a lovely eureka moment not to long ago where I was whining to the therapist about my failures and she asked me what specific goals I'd failed to achieved, and I told her and she asked me under what circumstances I'd set those goals and I was like... hold up. I didn't make them. They aren't mine. 

I never wanted to be a bestseller. I mean, it wouldn't have sucked, but I personally wasn't disappointed by a lesser splash on the scene. A writing career is a slow-burn love affair, right, not a hookup on page 1. Plus, I got goals number 1 and 2 right out of the gate, so I was good. 

Then therapist -- who is exceptionally wise, which is absolutely what I pay her for -- suggested I think up new ways of defining what Success as a Writer Means for Me. 

And it's this:

1. Success is that moment when I'm writing and my kid is reading over my shoulder and she laughs out loud at one of my jokes. (<--the BEST)

2. Success is writing "The End" on something, regardless of whether I have any intention of selling it ever.

3. Success is seeing hearts--or the odd "fucktacular!"--in the margins of my manuscripts after my critique partners have read a thing.

4. Success is making myself cry when I write a scene that's particularly difficult. Bonus if it ever makes someone else cry.

There will be other goals as I continue on this path through Writing Land. So far, I've gotten 1, 2, and 3 to happen and hope to replicate them. Number 4 eludes me, but it's something that is entirely within my control as a craftsperson and wordflinger.

And that's the trick, I think, to forming an identity as Yeah, I Really Am a Writer, Legit: making my own goals. Defining them clearly. Developing only goals that I have one hundred percent control over--i.e., not sales or reviews or awards. 

Sticking to it, focusing...

...and letting myself, sometimes, when no one else is looking, win.