This pseudonym, Katia Elson, is perhaps the oldest one I'm still using. But I couldn't deny the feeling of leaving it behind like other names I have discarded. People who know me in real life already found out this name. My old readers from online novel writing platform also been long gone. This name is both remembered and forgotten. For me personally, using this name feels like trying to walk with a corpse.
Yet, I don't know why, I'm staying with this name, Katia Elson. Maybe...just maybe, because I am unbothered about people's perception of me anymore, as well as the real-life consequences.
You see, one of my best friends picked this pseudonym for me, among the alternatives, she felt this one suits me the most. It was a long time ago—almost 10 years ago. It was when I started publishing my work online, when previously, I kept it in my computer, where no one except me, could access and read.
When I published my first novel, The Fall, it felt new—not just to me, but to sapphic literature as a whole. Back then, we had little representation and relied on subtext-heavy 'best friends' stories. Alice and Samantha’s story felt different: it combined fantasy, suspense, and love in a way that resonated with me and, I hoped, with readers too.
People who don't know me in real life might not understand this. I write Sapphic stories, but I am not a lesbian. I hate to break it to you but that's the truth.
Not all sapphic writers are lesbians, just like mystery writers don’t have to be detectives. Writing is about stepping into other perspectives and telling stories with care and authenticity. For me, sapphic stories are a way to explore connections and create space for voices that should be heard.
Storytelling is about imagination and empathy—stepping into lives and perspectives beyond our own. Writing sapphic stories doesn’t require me to embody the identity of the characters I create; instead, it requires me to approach their experiences with respect, care, and authenticity. By broadening the scope of who can tell these stories, we ensure that sapphic literature can thrive as a diverse and inclusive space, with room for many voices and perspectives.
Not everyone gets it, you see. People who don’t know me or my work well enough tend to jump to conclusions instead of asking the right questions. They love to assume my sexuality, as if that’s the only lens through which my stories can be understood. If you actually read my work—read it thoroughly—you’d notice the creative fusion of genres, worlds, and perspectives that defy convention. My sexuality isn’t the plot twist here, and it’s definitely not the question you should be focusing on. So, let’s leave the lazy assumptions at the door, shall we?
Staying with the name Katia Elson, despite its history and the baggage it carries, feels like an act of defiance—against the assumptions people make about me, the fear of being misunderstood, and the weight of real-life consequences. It reminds me that, at the heart of self-expression, there’s always a choice: to retreat or to create anyway.
I chose this name nearly a decade ago, with the help of a friend who believed it suited me. Back then, it symbolized the start of something new—putting my work out into the world. Now, it represents something even more important: the resolve to keep telling stories, even when it’s complicated.
No matter the assumptions or the labels, Katia Elson is still my way of connecting with readers, one story at a time.
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