Unless you have an unlimited number of email accounts to send them from, and an unlimited number of addresses, the pseudonym will not conceal your identity. It seems to me that the sole purpose of pseudonyms is that Lucy doesn't like it to appear in the magazine that she has given more than one award slot to the same person. So the need for pseudonyms really only kicks in if she wants to award two to of your entries. In any event, if you send in ten, and she only wants to print one of them, there's no reason she can't use your real name.

Err ... not necessarily apocryphal, John. Back in those days (at least in the Spectator), there were only three prizes; one of a fiver, and two of three quid.

Well, I believe I wrote one that positively needs a pseudonym. (It's a persona poem, ahem.)

Roger, you're quite right.

That's why I said I sometimes use "borrowed" names, i.e. names, emails, and addresses of friends and family.

It's also true that if you send an entry under your own name and another under a recognized pseudonym, if Lucy wants to print only the latter, then she'll put it under your real name.

In the early days, I had a couple printed under pseudonyms (which I thought I needed to use) and not my real name. But I had taken steps to conceal my real identity and Lucy apparently did not see through them. I think I had one printed as Roger Slater, for example, and if memory serves, another under Kay Nine (a pseudonym I had earlier invented for some sort of dog-related contest).

I know someone who submitted several using only his own name, and when Lucy wanted to print two of his entries, she then asked him for a pseudonym.

But if Lucy can sometimes stipulate that there's a limit to the number you submit, as she did last week, I think it's a fair inference that there is no limit when she does not so stipulate, and you are free to use your own name and not mess around with pseudonyms.

Really, Brian. Only three. I think it was the New Statesman, much the more successful magazine in those days, though that may be difficult to believe now.

I suppose my take on this is slightly different, in that I rarely do multiple entries for a comp. Dammit, I often miss the deadline and don't even manage ONE!

I lack self-discipline. Like, at this moment, I should be doing housework. On Thursday I have my relatives arriving from Germany for three weeks, and the house is not up to the required state.

My feeling about pseudonyms is that, on the occasions I DO manage a win, I want everyone to know it's me! OK, I'm vain as well as lacking self-discipline :o

Jayne

Well, Jayne, as you know, my recent ventures into pseudonyms have reulted in that scoundrel Holbrook stealing my thunder; he has become a serial winner. (But rest assured, his knees are still intact - unless he does it again.)

And at your urging, here are my current thoughts on this competition. (I have to say that when I'm not doing competitions, lust is usually the sin at the forefront of my mind.)

It is with a certain pride that I can say that I’ve overcome my natural sloth, and written entries on all seven sins. You may think me a glutton for punishment, and wonder whether I am driven by lust for fame, or merely by greed for money. Well, it doesn’t really matter; when the results are announced, I’m sure I’ll feel my usual wrath for the judge, and envy of the actual winners.

Nice one, Brian.

I haven't attempted this yet. I'm bound to do Envy - I'm envious of you and that Mr Holbrook, the other cad who keeps winning!

Jayne

Oh, dear! Over achiever as always, I've tackled all the seven (although I was hoping that a collective package might be ascribed to the singular) Milk is good, for instance. Back to the Miltonic morass.

NB: note how discreet and debonaire Jayne is. Never once said: "That idiot Levens..."

Discreet and debonaire? Moi?

Au contraire: "That lovely Levens" ;)

Jayne

I'm still not clear on the pseudonym thing: if, say, you submit two pieces, one under a a different name, should you be up front with Lucy that it is a pseudonym? Or, do you submit it under a false identity, with a different e-mail (my son's, for instance). Then, suppose multiple entries win, the payments would have to be made to different identities, yes? This could become financially complicated, involving things like money laundering and Swiss Bank accounts, couldn't it?

The question is purely hypothetical. I'm lucky to get a mensch!

:DThe Joys of Envy:D

Though envy turns you sour
and fills your heart with bile,
there comes a shining hour
that makes it all worthwhile,

when those you envy stumble,
their names dragged through the mud,*
when fame and fortune crumble,
my God, does that feel good!


*Alternate line: (remember Tiger Woods?)

Gluttony

When I have eaten so much food
my stomach just might burst,
and drunk a dozen beers beyond
the dictates of my thirst,

when I have eaten chicken, squab,
turkey, goose and sparrow,
when I have licked the platters clean
and sucked the bones of marrow,

when I am weak from having dined
and reeling from consumption,
I take a break from dinner but
I dream of its resumption

the minute that my stomach clears.
You see, I do love eating.
And anything worth doing once,
I say, is worth repeating.

Marion, I think you can do it either way (or both). I've won under false identities (Jayne will tell you how close a friend of mine has come to being kneecapped because of those weeks that he won when he wasn't supposed to). Financially, there's no problem - he hands over the winnings. Getting the glory back from him is more difficult.

I've also won - but this was back in the 1970's - using recognizable pseudonyms.

I'm inclined to think that you shouldn't submit more than two entries that are recognizably you. After that (for three or more), it may be more judicious to indulge in a bit of identity-theft.

Since my "comeback" (after a 35-year absence, I tend to think of myself as the Rip van Winkle * of the competition world), I haven't actually won anything using a "me" pseudonym, but I did get an honourable mention as "Alan Birglar".

Brian Allgar

* I asked my wife whether "The Sleeping Beauty of the competition world" wouldn't be a better phrase. She looked at me for a long moment, and then said "If I were you, I'd stick to Rip van Winkle".

Of all the seven deadly sins
I like sloth the best--
It makes you much too lazy
to bother with the rest.

Roger, that's terrific! Just reading it makes me salivate.

Marion, I think Rip Van Winkle's right.

There doesn't quite seem to be a definitive answer to the pseudonym question, but it's impossible to cash a cheque with a pseudonym on it, for security reasons. You can't take it to the bank and protest loudly "But... Iona Ferrari is really ME; I won a competition and this is my prize!!!"

Therefore... you can either submit one, two, or however many entries, in your own name; 'give' some of your entries to friends or family who, should 'they' win, will duly receive payment and hand it back to you - one hopes! ; or you can submit multiple entries but tell Lucy that, in the event of her awarding you more than one prize, your other name(s) is(are)...

My own take on it is this: knowing that the postbag is large, it seems greedy to send Lucy loads of poems. Send one or two, as yourself, and opt for quality over quantity.
(You might want to prove you're a brilliant poet by sending her a dozen or more entries to one comp, but so what? She's not going to be swayed by that.)

Jayne

The fact that some contests limit you to three entries, to give a recent example, indicates to me that the other contests do not limit you.

I have often sent in as many as eight or nine entries, and it doesn't seem to affect the outcome. Indeed, when (as is usually the case) I do not win after I send in a lot of entries, I tend to get an honorable mention, which I interpret as a nod to my effort if not my quality.

The one thing I don't think is a good idea is to get real people to misrepresent that they are the author of your entry and to have them receive checks and forward the prize to you. A pseudonym is one thing, but lying about authorship and laundering money is another.

I always give my real address at the top. The pseudonyms are under the poems. Then Lucy need only use them if I have won more than once. I don't think I ever have.

I totally agree. I've never done it and never shall, but I know it's done. As I said before, if I win I want to take all the credit for myself.

John's way is the best solution. It always pays to be an Honest John! :D

Jayne

Pride

I count myself as one of those
With pedigree and toffee nose
Who scorn the horrid hordes of great
Unwashed who now infest the State,

Rank scourings of an underclass,
All greasy hair and lardy arse,
Whose foul-mouthed kids have filthy names,
Shaz, Maz, Jaz, Spaz, Kaz, Kayleigh, Kaimes,

Stacy, Tracy, Taylor, Tyler,
Accents vile and habits viler,
Strangled vowels, glottal stops.
Morals conned from knocking shops.

Ah – what a chasm yawns between
These oafish, larrikin, obscene,
Slow-oozing, boozing bags of pus,
And (God be praised) the likes of us!

Aaarghhh! You mean that by using Nicholas Holbrook, I've been lying and laundering? Oh, the shame! Oh, the degradation! Oh, the cash!

Seriously, though, if I send in more than two entries, I like to think there is at least a hypothetical chance of the others winning.

As John pointed out, the great Martin Fagg is said to have won all the prizes on one occasion. The question is, did he do so under recognized pseudonyms, or did he lie and launder?

And one last footnote. I never met Martin Fagg, but I did meet E. O. Parrott (they were probably the Bill and Basil of their day) at a New Statesman "do" where nibbles were on offer. He seemed, as you would expect, an amusing fellow, but during our conversation I received an almost uninterrupted stream of cake-crumbs in my face ...

The one person I know who had two entries printed in a single contest, as I mentioned, used a pseudonym for the second only at Lucy's request. The pseudonym was not for the purpose of fooling Lucy, but, in effect, fooling readers.

But I'll say it once again. The contest does not publish any "rules" as other contests do. The Washington Post Style Invitational has a full set of rules, including a rule saying that you must use your real name and submit no more than 25 entries, but the Spectator has no such rule that I know of. Why would you take steps to avoid a rule that doesn't exist?

Jayne,

There is a further serious point to be made here.

My own take on it is this: knowing that the postbag is large, it seems greedy to send Lucy loads of poems. Send one or two, as yourself, and opt for quality over quantity.

The problem is that the author's estimation of his "best" pieces is not necessarily going to coincide with Lucy's. Reverting once again to my own experience, it has happened that I have won with what I thought to be only my third-best entry - if I'd limited myself to what I considered to be the two best, I'd have ended up with nothing.

And another point is this: if it so happens that one week you have written six entries that are more amusing than all the entries submitted by others (OK, it's unlikely, but let's assume it for the sake of argument), then it's in everybody's interest - the general readership's as well as the author's - for them to be the ones that appear in print.

I don't think it's "greedy" for a writer of humourous verse or prose to want to amuse as many people as possible with as many pieces as possible, even if you can't amuse all of the people all of the time.

Ah yes. The latterday Eric was a great splutterer. And since he was deaf as a wossname you had to get close to dialogue with him, which kept you in range.

The thing is, Brian, you've now forced me to admit the truth - I'm just green with envy of all of you 'greedy' people, because I usually only come up with a couple of entries! :rolleyes:

I know what you mean, though - I've sometimes won with what I thought was the weaker of two poems, but hey, who are we to argue? A win is a win! ;)

Jayne

How great to have met Mr Parrott - I love his books!

I've written an entry per sin
but only one's stirring within,
for all have their seed
in just one sin, greed,
and the rest are just there for the win.

Sorry, Pedro, I disagree:

It’s greed that brings the necessary money,
And envying others keeps me on my toes,
While gluttony’s required to keep my strength up
When meeting some young lovely English rose;
Sloth takes the form of staying in the bedroom
(I take no pride in cleaning, hence the dust);
My wrath and disappointment would destroy me
If I no longer could indulge my lust.

I guess this one doesn't suit the contest:

The sins that are deadly are seven.
Just one, and you're blackballed from heaven!
But I've thought of more!
To these seven, add four!
Come close, and we'll count to eleven!

It certainly doesn't suit the contest, Roger, but I'd love to know more - I'm always on the lookout for new sins to be tempted by.

Christopher Fry wrote an inspired line about the deadly sins in The Lady's Not for Burning. Thomas Mendip says, "And it's better to go for the lively ones."

I doubt I have it in me to submit seven poems for this competition. So my plan is to rank the deadlies in order of liveliness -- lust in first place, sloth in the cellar -- and work my way down the list until I run out of steam, or out of time.

It's better to go for the lively ones

That would exclude necrophilia, then?

I love work. I can sit and look at it for hours. Jerome K Jerome

Chris's point made me think...

Yes, lust is the liveliest sin,
for although it strives to end in
the murmur of death,
a gasp, then one breath,
and life must resume or begin.

When asked to give up deadly sins
I've never whined or fussed
Renouncing gluttony, envy, pride,
Wrath, greed, sloth . . . but lust???

I’m quite incapable of sin;
My rectitude’s like iron.
Of course, I’ve got my pride - but then,
I am the alpha lion.

This girl said “What about a spot of lust?”
She’s really gorgeous, I was nothing loth.
But as I started nibbling her bust,
I nodded off, thwarted of sex by sl...(yawns)

We’ve got these friends, they’re rather Cheam-and-Suttony
Home Counties types. We went to them for dinner;
You couldn’t say that they go in for gluttony -
Nouvelle cuisine, but smaller, meaner, thinner.

Can you guess my mortal sin?
Am I a lech, a grouch, a glutton?
A lazy, jealous, prideful Scrooge?
Whatever you guess, it's on the button.