What’s in a Name

If you’ve followed me on Facebook or Twitter, then you know I got a new kitten on Friday.  Since then, it’s been a little hectic here, but what’s really got me stumped is this little guy’s new name.  See, Winslow and Winston (the name the little guy came with from the Humane Society) are just too close.  Endearing, but . . . I don’t know.  I keep thinking I have to come up with a new name.

The problem is that nothing seems to fit just right.  I’ve had tons of suggestions from FB folks and Twitterati—and they’re all intriguing.  But I find myself thinking . . . meh . . . not quite.  I mean, I’m the one who thought of Timmy and Wally and Dickens.  I like Timmy because it almost fits this little guy, but I’m not sold.

The whole thing got me thinking about how I name characters.  Romeo got all poetic about names, said names honestly didn’t matter . . . but, in the end, it was the power of the name—what that name bound him to—that doomed both him and Juliet. 

So names mean quite a lot.  Now, I know that some writers will use their friends or people they know (I’ve done that as a kind of in-joke for some of my Mechwarrior and Battletech stuff).  Other writers hold contests: Tell me why you love my universe, and win a chance to have a character named after you!  Like those contests television series sometimes run so you have a shot at a walk-on role, you know?

Me, I’ve always thought that names have to fit the character.  They have to telegraph qualities.  Like . . . Alex.  To me, that sounds competent, tough, resourceful.  Tom is down-to-earth, reliable, steadfast, loyal.  Chris makes me think . . . contemplative, serious, soulful.  A tad ambiguous.  And so on.

Still, even when you think you know a character’s name . . . you have to let the name settle down and become the character, inhabit her.  That sounds very woo-woo, but it’s true.  There’ve actually been times when a character has one name in an outline but a totally different one by the time I get around to writing the first draft, and that’s all because the character’s had time to marinate and become round and full.  To develop some flavor, if you will.  It’s not that the character’s actions fit the name; it’s that the name is a shorthand for who the character is.  If it conjures up associations in a reader’s mind, all the better.  But for me, names are personal; in WHITE SPACE, I say that naming gives someone power over another.  (And, if you think about it, that’s all so biblical . . . I almost can’t stand it.)

So what’s in a name?  More than you can imagine.  Which is why I’m flip-flopping here over what to call a silly kitten.  But whatever I finally choose . . . it’s his for life, and it’s just got to it.

Right now . . . I’m thinking Timmy.  Or Little Guy.  Or Wally.  But I don’t knowww . . . and, honestly, how can you not love that face?

Or maybe I’m just overthinking this, and he really is a Winston, not a Timmy or Wally or Little Guy.  Winston is the name by which I came to know him, after all.  It was what I called him for weeks.

This is what comes of thinking too much.  It’s a writer-thing.