For those of you that subscribe to this newsletter via email alone I will let you in on a little secret, Substack is basically a large community of, and for, writers. Which means there is a lot of writerly writing on here –there are professors who write about the use of literature and the future of literature, there are book recommenders, there are book reviewers, there are plenty of people who try to demystify publishing, there is writing about writing, and there is writing about writing about writing.
This is all new to me. I’d never heard of a lot of this stuff because I got my degree in Software Engineering and am a jock at heart. I know this might sound crazy, but when my friends and I go to the bar we very rarely discuss the importance of James Joyce in 20th century literature. The most important topics we’ve ever tackled at the bar are which gambling apps have the best Notre Dame line (they were +3 this weekend and won outright, suck it A&M) and who is buying the next round of beers.
But there has been one large piece of discourse on Substack that has caught my attention that is actually bar worthy conversation. You see, a few of my friends have read my book. For some, this is the first book they’ve ever read. For others, it’s their second. The reason I wanted these uncultured, unread, and unhinged friends to read my book at all is because they are the toughest crowd to please. For instance, when I started to lose my hair they were the first people to forcefully tell me to shave it off. When I wore a pair of Birkenstocks out for the first time I was trashed relentlessly. If I happen to miss-match a color, or dress too fancy, or dress too disheveled, or dress at all, I will get shit for it. What I’m trying to say is guy friends pull no punches and they did the same for my book. But the main reason I wanted them to read it is because I wanted to see if younger men could relate to the character. So, when the topic of young-male-contemporary authors or lack thereof spread through Substack like wildfire (via pieces like Andrew Boryga’s Do we really want more male vulnerability in fiction? and Ross Barkan’s From Misogyny to No Man's Land ), I figured I’d finally had a reason to tell my friends why I hadn’t been signed by an agent yet (besides the crushing fact that my book just might not be good enough).
Of course, they are aware of the stigma of being young and male in today’s day and age even outside of the publishing world. They aren’t blind or dumb even if they haven’t read the latest Taffy Brodesser-Akner novel (I know this might come as a shock to some of you). But when I explained to them that the possible reason I haven’t signed with an agent is because my young male character might be too “politically incorrect” or “too honest” about the male millennial experience, this didn’t surprise them.
“But isn’t your character half spic like you?” one friend might ask or “Is there even any money in writing a book anyway?” another might say. To those questions I really have no good answer. Yes, my character is half spic like me but he’s not saying the things publishers want to hear. And no, the question did not offend me coming from a friend who has sat at my dinner table, has hugged my Dominican born Nana, and is just making a funny fucking joke. Also no, I am not writing for the money (yet) and all I ever wanted to do with my book was to portray a millennial man-child who is struggling to grow the fuck up in the funniest way possible. But yes, I do think the book would be a hit, I think it would make any publisher money, and I think now more than ever people are desperate for a laugh when they crack open a book (which I provide in fucking spades).
But when a third friend asked: “You’re not gonna’ just let them win right?” … now that, that fired me the fuck up similar to Alex Perez’s piece The American Man Is the Problem .
So, I’ve come up with a genius plan. All the young male writers need to learn a thing or two from the female authors of yesteryear. Remember, there was a time where female authors could not be published under female names, thus you have authors with the names of Isak Dinesen, The Bell Brothers, George Sand, George Elliot, and plenty of others. Even as recent as Joanne Rowling was thought to be too feminine of a name for her books about witches and wizards for God’s sake. She even decided to go male with her detective novels using the pen name Robert Galbraith! Seriously, what the fuck goes on? She’s J.K. fucking Rowling. So, it is completely understandable that females might not give a shit about our little problem of masculine voices in fiction. That doesn’t mean us guys should roll over and die. We’ve fought in World Wars, we’ve got stuck on the Titanic while women and children were whisked away on lifeboats, we even survive colds! So, here’s a list of pen names I may or may not have to publish under if my book is good enough to be published in the first fucking place.
A.J. Muka
Eh, I don’t know. A.J. sounds a little too masculine. Kind of like the douchebag you went to high school with who may or may not have a reputation for touching women inappropriately. I mean, the only famous A.J. I know is this guy:
If this guy doesn’t reek of douche-baggery I don’t know who does. I’m sure A.J. wants it thata way, but I don’t know how many more books I would sell by using that pen name.
Alexis Muka
This actually doesn’t sound half bad. It’s got a little housewife who drives a high-end vehicle vibe. Alexis Muka is a girl boss. She takes care of two kids at home and in her spare time writes a scathing novel involving a young drunk asshole trying to grow into a man. She speaks to our culture in a different way, she understands the male experience while being totally female. She calls out the hypocrisy of the sexual revolution, how it leads guys into thinking that sex actually comes for free with no emotional or physical cost because that’s what women want!
Little does the public know Alexis is a male and agrees – when sex comes with no cost for a guy he will take it 100/100 times and he will be worse off for it. Only when a boy falls in love and decides to dedicate his life to a woman (or in the novel’s case, a search for a woman who may or may not exist) can he truly become a man. But publishers don’t want that little lesson to come from, GASP, a guy.
Georgina Muka
Sometimes you have to roll with what works. Like I mentioned above there are two VERY famous Georges who are actually both women. Both of these Georges changed the world of fiction under their ugly pseudonyms. I’m not a big fan of the name George or Georgina personally but will do just about anything to get in the good graces of the publishing world. Though Georgina sounds like she wears WAY too much eye shadow and paints her grotesquely large nails in obscene colors, if the name works then I’ll go by Georgina for the rest of my living days.
A. Mann
The double entendre kills me here. Read that again and tell me that doesn’t sound like a woman’s pen name. The subtly, the beauty – this one is really a chef’s kiss of pen names. A. Mann, short for Anne Mann, was terribly misnamed by her parents. They did not know that she would be ridiculed by her young classmates from elementary school all the way through college for her rhyming name. “Anne’s a Mann, Anne’s a Mann” has rung through her ears since she was a little girl. So what does she decide to do? She decides to become a world-famous author by skewering the opposite sex in a raunchy, yet charming, MASSIVE debut about a millennial man-child who refuses to grow up. She is the darling of the publishing world and little does everyone know, she’s a man, man.
Honorable Mentions
Stephanie Queen
Dr. Suessan
Nicholette Flame
Jill Grisham
Dana Brown (this may be confusing to baseball fans)
Danielle Bukowski (not the book agent, but the long-lost daughter of Charles)
P.S. – My wife actually came up with the idea to use a woman’s pen name. Genius level shit and part of the reason I grew the fuck up and married her!
P.P.S. – I’m clearly joking, but if a publisher told me to go more feminine with a penname in order to get published I would do it in a fucking heartbeat.
P.P.P.S. – I’m 34. The “young male novelist” moniker for myself is quickly dying out. I need to get published and fast or will have to use a totally different and younger sounding pen name. Lil’ Muka or Young M might work.
P.P.P.P.S. - Usually these longer pieces come out on the weekend, but I just couldn’t hold on to this one.
Alexis Muka does have a nice ring to it. That would be my vote.
Also, I think Amran is making some great points below. Stay on the grind my half-spic brethren. It'll happen eventually--likely when you least expect it.
Think like a WoMan