A Fiction Writer’s Angst - Names

Trying to write inventive fantasy fiction is a challenge, but a fun challenge. Creating scary monsters, working out the particulars of your daring protagonist, making your antagonist, antagonizing, and mixing in fancy new races with established old races that nicely fit in the peculiar world you created is the enjoyable part of writing fiction. What slows you down – the names, the names, the names, oh the NAMES, they are nightmare. The absolute worst. What to name a town? What to name a character? What to name the world? HELP ME! HELP ME!

 

Names in fiction novels are wacky, tacky, and often impossible to pronounce. But I get why writers try to come up with cool names, to be different, unique, but many go way overboard.

 

Choosing the right name for people, places, and things that best depict the flavor of your novel can sometimes be difficult. I admit, I too have used wild and weird names.

 

Yes, your characters are special individuals. Yes, your world is unique. And yes, the names you choose should be distinctive to match the story.

 

Tom the Dragon Slayer is a bit . . . blah. However, . . . Ramanayake Wrivras Uwrecular the Dragon Slayer, wielding the Doom Slicer Sword of Twilight's End is sophisticated and stylish. Although, seeing Ramanayake Wrivras Uwrecular 800 times in a novel is quite annoying.

 

Dungeons, Towns, a Forest, a Mountain, a Tavern, an Ocean, and a River are tough to name, and deciding the right name will chew up a lot of your time. Joe’s River, Buck’s Tavern, and Scary Dungeon just don’t add spiciness like - The Cowardly Zombie Rabbit Tavern or The River of Black Blood.

 

Time is your enemy, so it must be used wisely.

 

To aid you, there are a few worthy name generators on the internet. The only problem with name generators is that you can get caught up in their swirling, addictive vortex. I know, because I have spent several wasted days looking through the millions of names some of them provide.

 

My advice: Choose a name and stick with it. Over time the name will grow on you. Don’t be envious of the names you have seen in other novels and think you have to change a beloved character’s name because it doesn’t sound meaningful. 40,000 words into a novel is not a good time to be waffling over a name.

 

For the writers who have children, you understand the task of naming. Sometimes it’s easy, sometimes it’s not so easy.

 

A name is a name is a name. The names you choose are important, but they will only be remembered if your story is awesome.

 

Using initials instead of their name is a popular thing with authors – I. P. Nightly or Mary O. B. G. Y. Spencer. Personally, I don’t get it, but what do I know. Hmmm, maybe I should change my name. I had it for 66 years. How about – Warwick Amaranth ‘The Nightmare’ Bloodrain.

Mr. Yellow Belly

Yost the Yellow Belly Ogre or Paul the Purple Raccoon.

 

Spreading the Love to the people who need Love.

 

-jk-

 

 

 

 

 

It's jimmy Day!!!

 

“Whatcha doing, Mister Kafka?”

 “Same old bunch of nothing.”

 “We need to do something special today, Mr. Kafka.”

 “Why?”

 “It’s jimmy Day!!!

 “Oh, crap.”

 “You know what that means, Mr. Kafka, . . . right?”

 “I do, and I don’t want to, jimmy.”

 “Get up; you know you want to.”

 “Okay, okay.”

 “Yippie, Imagination Day at the Park!”

 

jimmy is the bestest

The weather was marvelous and the sun brilliantly glistened over the landscape. We sat in silence, watching the wonder of life skip by, and we engaged in several entertaining conversations, but nary was a word spoken.

 

How is that possible you ask? Well, we imagined what the people we saw were thinking, and then I mentally chatted with them. Some told us about their work, others rambled on about their families, and a few told us where they had gone on a recent vacation.

 

The wildlife in the park was also very chatty. The sparrows told us about their squabbles with the blackbirds, the robins introduced us to the newest member of their family, and a squirrel, naturally, reminded us to get ready for winter.

 

Some might think it was odd to sit alone and have imaginary conversations, but we don’t care. We enjoy using our imagination, and we can end the conversations at any time. jimmy, unwisely played with a busy bee, and of course, he got stung. Now he thinks all the bees are out to get him. I warned him to leave the bee alone, but he didn’t listen. His naughty shouting verified that he did not appreciate my wisdom.  

 

Later on, we spoke with a spider. He had crept up on the park bench where we sat, although he wasn’t in a very good mood. A child had destroyed the web he built last night, and now he had to find a new place to build another one. We offered to help, but he refused, and he scurried off.

 

The dogs that the people were walking in the park also had all sorts of things to say, but because they barked so loudly it was impossible to understand any of them. Thankfully, they didn’t stay very long.

 

Then a woman walked by pushing a stroller. The child inside the stroller was screaming frantically. From what we could make out, it sounded like the child was saying, “Feed me!” We should have probably told her what the child was saying, but we thought it best not to say anything. She seemed to be in hurry anyway.

 

When the shadows of the tall trees began to stretch over the grass, we decided to head home. Overall, it was a beautiful day at the park.

 

“See, Mr. Kafka, that wasn’t so bad.”

“I suppose. I’m tired, so, I’m going to bed.”

 

“Me too. G’night, Mr. Kafka.”

 

“G’night, jimmy.”

 

 

j/k

 

 

 

 

 

To Persiflage or not to Persiflage

Hello, word scribblers and fellow epistemophilia people.

 

Are you tired of perpendicular nouns, horizontal verbs, precipitous adjectives, unsentimental adverbs, and law-abiding punctuation marks? I know I am.

 

Fear not, just yesterday, at the University of Fictitious Interpretation and Mystification, the Society for Enhanced Oxymoron Vocabulary and Pretend Jargon announced they have successfully figured out a literary therapy that will revolutionize how writers write; called, Advanced Palimpsest Osmosis.

 

What is Advanced Palimpsest Osmosis literary therapy?

 

It is a five-step psychotherapy process that may or may not work for you.

 

Step one: Stop stressing over old, established methods.

Step two: Write however you want.

Step three: Punctuate as you see fit.

Step four: Make up new words.

Step five: Convince other ultracrepidarians that what you’re doing is legitimate.

 

Possible side effects are: writing several pages of unreadable material, repetitious adverb use, forgetfulness, invariable back aches, wandering in the park, screaming at flowers, starring at a wall for no reason, (Is there ever a reason to stare at a wall?) watching ice melt, (There are at least two or three good reasons to watch ice melt.) increased pizza eating, begging for sympathy on Twitter, and prank-calling famous authors.

 

Advanced Palimpsest Osmosis is not for everyone and you should consult with someone, anyone, doesn’t really matter who it is, before attempting the five-step psychotherapy process.

 

Strive to be different, unique, or dissimilar on a daily basis and hopefully something odd or ordinary will happen.

 

Try Advanced Palimpsest Osmosis today and gyrate your writing career. It’s not just therapy, it’s an adventure!

Disclaimer: a statement that denies something, especially responsibility.

This Week be a Splendid Blonde Pigeon or a Passionate Lavender Rabbit.

 

Spreading the Love to Ireland, Sweden, Japan, Italy, Israel, Belgium, Canada, Poland, South Africa, and Spain.

j/k

Master of the Tall Tale

There was a time when I felt ten feet tall, but now I feel ten feet small.

Back when I was young, I had friends and people knew me. We talked, laughed, and shared our thoughts.

I walked with a pep in my step, a smile on my face, and with no concern for the days ahead.

Time had no meaning. Growing old and money were the least of my worries.

I wanted to see the world, and I believed the world wanted to see me.

I hurried from place to place and wasted away the days as if they would never end.

It was amazing to be unconscious of my surroundings, and negligent of my future.

Regret was a misunderstanding, not something to be dwelt upon.

Being young was great, or so I thought.

Time marched forward and as each year passes, I feel  insignificant and unseen.

My list of friends is fewer, and making new ones is very difficult.

My pace is slower, I rarely smile, and I worry too much about the days ahead.

Weather and money are all I think about and time presses hard against me.

I have many of memories of my crazy life and of them all, I have only one regret - about a girl I should not have left.

I no longer hurry, and I waste away the days wondering if my life had worth.

It feels horrible to be old, ever conscious of the inevitable waning future.

We are all unique

Then again, maybe it's good to be old and perhaps I could be revered as a walking, talking genius of life.

At the tavern, I'll babble on for hours about the incredible wonders of the world; weave unbelievable and inconceivable tales with vast fantastical claims of great achievements, because only I will know the truth of my accomplishments. I will become the master of stories, and I shall speak them with vivid imagination and use lots of old clichés.

Oh, there will be those who shall try to refute my yarns, but I will stand firm, brandishing my oldness and my wit to slay their Google master.

The information age is upon us and all seek the truth in everything. But truth is just a fact, absent of personality and character that a clever old story teller can and would gladly furnish the garnish.

“It ain’t over till the old frog croaks!”

j/k