“Evan Parker,” the guy said without preamble. “But I’m thinking about reversing it, professionally.”

Jake frowned. “You mean, as a pen name?”

“For privacy, yeah. Parker Evan.”

It was all he could do not to laugh, the lives of the vast majority of authors being far more private than they likely wished. Maybe Stephen King or John Grisham got approached in the supermarket by a quavering person extending pen and paper, but for most writers, even reliably published and actually self-supporting writers, the privacy was thunderous.

The Plot, by Jean Hanff Korelitz, p. 23