A pen name is a brand more than anything else. My pseudonym, “R.W.W. Greene,” was created for search-engine optimization. There are umpteen Rob, Bob, and Roberts Greene in the writing world, and my full name, Robert William Wright Greene, is too long for a book cover. So, when I decided to get serious about fiction, I went with the initials.

The scheme worked. When you Google “R.W.W. Greene” -- Go, go, Gadget SEO! -- my info is right there at the top. Rob Greene and Rob W. Greene wish their lives were so easy.

I’ve never tried to hide the fact that R.W.W. Greene is me and me is he. I’ve never worried that my leftist, atheist opinions will affect The Brand. Anyone who reads one of my books or short stories is likely not in the dark regarding the various leanings of the creator. Give or take, I write about ordinary people in mad circumstances, found families and communities, societal collapse and climate change, the mess we’ve made of everything, and the pursuit of a more dangerous but authentic and free human life. I don’t vote Republican, and I don’t believe anyone is illegal.

But if anything, I’ve a developing interest in protecting my non-fiction, just-for-fun writing from The Brand. I created twenty-first-century blues as part of a platform -- working in tandem with my website, social-media, YouTube channel and etcetera -- designed to get you to buy my books. I’ve no real evidence the platform works as intended, and I don’t know that I want to jump through the hoops required to make it work. I’m not interested in playing algorithms. I just want to think about weird things, read about them, and use my Best Trick (my writing) to touch the world.

To that end, I’m taking The Brand off the blues (to the extent that I can without burning the site). I feel like if I stop worrying about the “R.W.W. Greene” hat (or that you might think I want you to buy the hat all the time), I might be less tired and more able to write just for the sake of the project.

There may come a time when the ‘R.W.W. Greene’ brand loses its luster and goes into the drawer with its unpublished manuscripts. I’d like to think Rob Greene (this one) is more permanent—the teacher, the journalist, the person who can’t stop thinking about political systems, social constructs, books, Star Wars, music, technology, fashion, and what titles should replace Gatsby in high schools. He’s the one writing twenty-first-century blues.

In the pipeline now are essays about country music, book-marketing scams, Fink’s Taxonomy, and the evolutionary benefit of getting drunk. The book stuff will still show up, too. If R.W.W. gets a deal, a publication date, or plans to attend a convention, I’ll let you know.

I’d love it if you stuck around.

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