By Tabitha Bozeman
This morning, I heard a blurb on the radio about a researcher discovering two poems by Virginia Woolf. This researcher is not a Virginia Woolf specialist, but she happened upon the poems while escaping the Texas heat last August in the University of Texas archives. The poems are short and witty (the researcher describes them as “silly” in a fun way), and they were written for her niece and nephew. It was interesting to imagine Fun Aunt Virginia as I listened, but otherwise, I was not as surprised as the headlines seemed to want listeners and readers to be. I really wanted to hear that an entire collection of her poetry had been found. Ah, well. I think most people who are familiar with Woolf’s writing would not be shocked by the discovery of a couple of hastily scribbled poems enclosed in a letter. This is, after all, the woman who wrote that “poetry is delicious; the best prose is that which is most full of poetry.”
What I did spend time considering, though, was why a writer who obviously respected, enjoyed poetry, and wrote poetry would only indulge in it as a sentimental, playful aside. For that matter, why have so many writers throughout literary history, especially women, felt the need to hide or downplay their poetry?
Virginia Woolf reflected that “Society in those days was a very competent, perfectly complacent, ruthless machine. A girl had no chance against its fangs. No other desires — say to paint, or to write — could be taken seriously.” She focused on her prose, writing novels and essays and became a well-known writer — but not for poetry. It was an indulgence.
Anne Bradstreet, the first woman recognized as an American poet, was writing poetry in the 1600s. Her first volume was published in England by her brother-in-law, but she continued to downplay her writerly ambitions, even including a self-effacing poem that mocked her own work.
L.M. Montgomery wrote some work under a pseudonym, as did the Bronte sisters — but these examples make it seem as if only writers form “back then” used pen names. Today, many famous writers have also chosen authorial names to use when publishing work, and though it is easy to assume it is to hide an identity, I think it is often to create a different one. This allows both the writer and the reader to explore genres, topics, tones, and even languages that they otherwise might not feel comfortable exploring. Some writers who have achieved enormous success have even used pen names to prove to themselves that the success is not based solely on name. For example, Stephen King wrote several books under a pseudonym, as has J.K. Rowling, David Cornwell, Elena Farrante, Erika Mitchell, Patricia Highscith, and more. Some authors’ names are so recognizable that multiple writers continue writing under the name even after the original author has ceased publishing.
Hearing about Virginia Woolf’s discovered poems made me think again about what it was like when she was a woman writing. She famously said that she believed that “Anonymous has been a woman” for most of history. And, yes, I think women have had to balance more than their fair share of breaking into fields like publishing and poetry, but I also think there is more at play that simply obscuring facts that might make publishing more challenging. I think having a pen name is much like stepping into another character, or playing dress-up. It allows freedom of movement between genres and topics, for men and women alike, and can be a way to present creative work with a clean slate, free of preconceived ideas or judgment from critics and fans alike.
I like to think about what names I would write under if I were to choose a pen name. There are so many options, each with its own hints at personality and character. As Whitman said, “I am large, I contain multitudes” — maybe I’ll choose several options.
