I'm shedding my pseudonym.

letting go of a name that was never mine & starting a YouTube channel

Dec 13, 2024

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Yours truly ~ Photo by Shaina Bostin, hair by Cait Woodcock

The fear of being perceived has been a thorn in my creative side for most of my life. Although I have always wanted to be a writer, I haven’t always wanted to be myself. I was twenty-one and a nursing student when I decided to self-publish my first poetry collection under a pseudonym. I argued that a pen name would separate my writing from my “professional” persona, hide my digital footprint from the competitive (pre-pandemic) job market, grant me reasonable anonymity in my small home city, and allow me to craft a fresh, marketable version of myself. Quietly, I also knew it would give me courage. I published that poetry collection at twenty-three, post-pandemic and permanently employed. And I became Caitlin Ellis.

Many past and present writers have published their work under a pseudonym. Naturally, each has different reasons; anonymity in the case of Elena Ferrante, ambiguity in the case of K. A. Applegate, sexism in the case of George Eliot, and for the plot in the case of Lemony Snicket. In the years since picking mine, I’ve often wondered if any of them regret their decision.

In truth, I’ve never quite gotten used to writing at arm’s length from myself. When I first adopted Caitlin Ellis, the distance was comfortable. The anonymity, sacred. It cloaked young, timid me as I entered the writing world, softening the blows that inevitably came with the territory. For a time, using a pseudonym felt like the only way I could publicly explore my creativity. It’s a beautiful name; Ellis rolls gently off the tongue with a soft hiss. It’s short, meek, and poetic. It’s also one of the most common surnames in Australia. Ellis graced the cover of my first book and has attached itself to my work for more than two years now. Despite my initial decision to abandon my real name, I never anticipated the sense of alienation I would eventually feel.

As lovely as Ellis is, it’s also terribly English—which I am not. I am a third-generation Australian with Polish and Mauritian heritage. I would be lying if I said this didn’t factor into my name selection; knowing I intended to submit future work to a white-dominated publishing industry, I gathered that appealing to the prevailing racial bias might have its benefits. Ellis seemed unassuming, and I, a young, shy writer with much to say and little courage to say it, loved the disguise. And the disguise served me well—I’ve managed to achieve an awful lot as Caitlin Ellis. But I’ve also grown an awful lot. Become more self-assured, passionate, brave. In hindsight, this is likely why Ellis feels so bizarre to me now. I chose a pseudonym at a time when I felt my most vulnerable and most confused. I wanted a way to hide in the open and a pseudonym allowed me to do just that.

But now? Now, I’ve never been prouder of the way my parent’s features are interwoven across my face—for my dad’s soft eyes and stubbornness, for my mum’s bronze skin and determination—and I’ve never wanted to honour my Dziadzia’s name more.

I once came across a particularly striking quote by Banksy that I haven’t forgotten since. He says, “…they say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name on Earth for the last time.”

I admit to my delusional desire for a legacy. After all, I am human and fallible and one day I will be dead. Though I have never longed for children, I have long dreamed that one day, when I am once again dust, someone, somewhere, might pick up my book, crack its old, creased spine, and read the words I had penned many years prior. If what Banksy says is true and my words do indeed outlive me, then when my second death arrives I don’t want to be remembered as Caitlin Ellis.

I want to be remembered as Caitlin Kotula.

For the longest time, I’ve wanted to film videos about my quaint little life but I’ve been too terrified to appear in front of the camera—yet another manifestation of my fear of being perceived. During my residency in Finland though, I became very honest with myself and spent many days reflecting on my tendency to thwart my daring. I realised that just like I had once found it easier to exist behind a pseudonym, I also found it easier to peer from behind the camera. And if I could let my pseudonym go, I could also face the lens.

So that’s what I did.

I realise that for many of you, this may be your first time seeing me and hearing me speak—hello! Thank you for being here, for reading this far, and for witnessing my first foray into filmed storytelling. My debut video is below—welcome to this new chapter <3