Always did have a problem with names. In my various writing projects throughout the years, I have consistently dreaded the moment at which I must choose a name for a person or a place, the cursor blinking at me as if the computer was drumming its fingers. I used the same first name for the main character in the last several stories I’ve put to paper (or whatever the modern equivalent of that idiom should be. Wait a minute, isn’t that what writers are for? Let’s just call it “put to text” for now) . Ages ago I was in an online writer’s group hosted by an author, and on Q&A day the only question I had was how he picked names. It’s a bit of an issue.

So, here I am writing something new, and trying to hoard words that make good place names. (Serenity and Firefly are littered with superior examples: Whitefall, Maidenhead, etc.) Over the last few days, it’s become something of an OCD-freakout. Every written word, every song lyric, every combination of phonemes I’ve exposed to has been put to the test. Eating Lay’s potato chips? “Classic Station…”. Listening to music? “Tourbus Station…”. Blogging? “Dashboard Station…”. So, if you see me and notice a glazed-over look as you’re speaking, don’t be concerned. When I make my millions, I’ll give you a dime if I use a shard of your vocab as a place name.

Shard Station…

One reply on “Eavesdown”

It is an issue. Especially getting into it now, when thousands of famous stories all ready lay claim to the outstanding names, and nerds scouring for potential allusions in every new piece.

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