On Pseudonyms, Copyright, and Accountability in Publicly Funded Film Projects

Although I am deeply grateful for the recognition that came with Húsó receiving awards for Best Script and Best Scripted Show at the Icelandic Television Awards last week, and proud of my work, what matters most to me is shedding light on the systemic issues underlying Húsó, both before and after production.

In an era of artificial intelligence and growing information chaos, when freedom of expression can no longer be taken for granted, the protection of authors’ rights is more vital than ever. It also appears that not everyone involved in the project Húsó was given the correct information.

Article 4 of the Icelandic Copyright Act states:

“The author’s name shall be stated, as applicable, both on copies of the work and when it is made public.”

Despite this, the series was broadcast without either my name or the pseudonym I had explicitly requested, and to which I had an unquestionable right, ever appearing on screen.

Before the show was premiered, my request to be credited under the pseudonym Hekla Hólm was denied. I was told that “it would raise more questions than it answers,” and that such a practice “is not customary in Iceland.

However, my own résumé includes a well-known example of pseudonym use within the Icelandic industry. Stella Blómkvist is the pseudonym of the author behind the popular book series of the same name. Although I co-wrote the television adaptation Stella Blómkvist 2, I was never told who was behind the pseudonym.

The right of authors to use pseudonyms has a long tradition in literature and film. In screenwriting guild contracts in the United States, the right to use a pseudonym is explicitly protected for writers who do not wish to have their real name associated with a project, whether for personal, artistic, or commercial reasons (Writers Guild of America West).

Screenwriter Dalton Trumbo was blacklisted in Hollywood in the 1950s along with several others accused of communist sympathies. He managed to keep writing screenplays by using the pseudonym Robert Rich and won an Academy Award under that name (Kelly).

Director Steven Soderbergh has repeatedly used the names of his parents, Peter Andrews and Mary Ann Bernard, in his own work. When awards for those projects have been presented, however,it has always been acknowledged that the credit belonged to Soderbergh himself (Mulcahey).

The stories we encounter in culture and media are our modern-day parables. The premise of Húsó, which was based on my own experience, was clear from the start – I wanted to tell a story about recovery. By sharing honest and hopeful accounts of healing, we offer a sense of possibility to those who are still struggling. People need role models to believe that recovery is truly possible.

In one of the early working documents for Húsó, written during the development phase, it reads:

“In the end, Hekla receives an apartment through social services. Everything seems to be falling into place. She gains expanded visitation rights with her daughter and the possibility of eventually obtaining full custody.”

In the final draft of the shooting scripts – which I, unfortunately, was not given the opportunity to provide input on – there had been a complete reversal of the story’s original message and the narrative I intended to tell. Apart from that fundamental shift, nearly all of the characters, their relationships, storylines, scenes, and countless smaller details remained the same as when I was still actively developing the project.

At one point, the main character in Húsó relapses, an idea drawn directly from my own experience of relapse after treatment. However, in the televised version, she is shown entering rehab shortly afterward, which was not my idea. For anyone in Iceland who has gone through addiction treatment more than once, the waiting time for a new placement can stretch for months. That reality has cost countless lives and was, in fact, the reason I eventually had to go to Sweden for treatment myself.

In my view, the television series Húsó ultimately overlooked the systemic roots of the struggles faced by its characters.

The protagonist’s journey seemed to center primarily on learning to stop speaking up – to become instead compliant, grateful, and quiet.

Greenlandic actor Najattaajaraq Joelsen once told me that when she is invited to audition for international projects, it is often for the role of a Greenlandic woman who is either an alcoholic or a mistress – and that such stories almost invariably end in misery, degradation, or death. She said she now refuses to take on these harmful portrayals and always asks, before accepting an audition:

“Will the character grow.”

In the final episode of Húsó, the main character, Hekla, was depicted as a hopeless addict heading for yet another round of treatment. That portrayal merely reinforces the damaging belief still pervasive in society – that people struggling with addiction are beyond help, and that the government therefore need not act decisively to support them.

A vital opportunity was thus lost – to offer visibility and hope to a vulnerable group who need understanding and inclusion, not further stigmatization.

Those who enjoy certain privileges can unconsciously perpetuate prejudice and harmful stereotypes, simply through lack of insight and lived experience. It is therefore essential to approach the stories of marginalized groups with respect, and to seek their consent when telling them.

Copyright law protects two main categories of rights: moral rights and economic rights.

Moral rights include the author’s right to be recognized for their work, and to prevent its distortion or misuse (Althingi).

According to the official commentary on the Icelandic Copyright Act, an author may even stop the release of a film based on their script if the final version distorts the original intent or message of the work (Teitur Skúlason).

My objections, however, were unsuccessful.

In January of this year, Húsó was nominated for the Nordic Series Script Award, one of the most prestigious honors a screenwriter in the Nordic region can receive — for Best Screenplay for a Television Series

My lawyer and the Writers’ Union of Iceland submitted a formal request that my name, along with the pseudonym Hekla Hólm, be added to the nomination. Such international recognition can be crucial for writers and can open doors to future opportunities.

The request was denied.

Damages awarded for copyright violations in Iceland have rarely exceeded a few million ISK (approximately €7,000). This means that even when an author wins in court, they often still lose financially.

The Ministry of Justice’s Legal Aid Committee has repeatedly rejected applications for legal aid in copyright cases on the grounds that such matters “pertain to the claimant’s profession.” In practice, this means that no working artist in Iceland can obtain legal aid in cases involving copyright infringement.

The message to creative individuals without financial means is clear: they remain defenseless against more powerful entities that can infringe upon their rights – even in projects largely funded by public money. Those without the financial resources to claim the rights guaranteed to them by law are left without real recourse.

A state-funded problem is left to become a private matter.

After more than two years of persistent effort, it was therefore a significant milestone when I, along with my pseudonym, was finally named publicly as one of the writers of the series, when the nominations for the Icelandic Television Awards were announced recently.

In a culture where most stories have historically been told from the perspective of white, non-disabled, heterosexual men, audiences have become accustomed to identifying with their point of view above others (Mulvey; hooks).

The term himpathy describes how legal systems, the media, and the public often find it easier to empathize with male perpetrators than with female victims (Manne).

I hope that my experience helps shed light on the urgent issues facing marginalized groups, including people living with addiction, and on the fundamental rights of those working in the arts and creative industries in Iceland.

For those interested in copyright law, I have also published an analysis of the first episode of Húsó, with references to dated materials from when I first developed the script as an individual project in my Creative Writing MA at the University of Iceland and during courses at The Second City.

Húsó - 1.þáttur - greining á höfundaverki

References:

Althingi. (n.d.). Höfundalög nr. 73/1972. Retrieved March 8, 2025, from https://www.althingi.is/lagas/154b/1972073.html.

hooks, b. (2003). The will to change: Men, masculinity, and love. New York, NY: Washington Square Press.

Kelly, L. (2024, January 10). Hollywood blacklisted him, and still he won an Oscar. Collider. https://collider.com/dalton-trumbo-oscar.

Manne, K. (2019). Down girl: The logic of misogyny. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.

Mulcahey, M. (2025, February 6). Paging Peter Andrews: Steven Soderbergh on being his own DP. Filmmaker Magazine. https://filmmakermagazine.com/130129-paging-peter-andrews-steven-soderbergh-on-being-his-own-dp.

Mulvey, L. (2003). Visual pleasure and narrative cinema (H. Jóhansdóttir, Trans.). In G. Elísson (Ed.), Áfangar í kvikmyndafræðum (pp. 330–341). Reykjavík: Forlagið.

Skúlason, T. (2010). Framsal á sæmdarrétti samkvæmt 3. mgr. 4. gr. höfundalaga nr. 73/1972 [Master’s thesis, University of Iceland Faculty of Law]. Skemman. https://skemman.is/bitstream/1946/4989/1/Ritgerð8.pdf.

Writers Guild of America West. (2022). Creative rights for writers of theatrical and long-form television motion pictures. https://www.wga.org/contracts/know-your-rights/creative-rights-for-writers.