In news completely unrelated to this post, I asked my husband last night how he felt about kilts. And wearing them. And letting me call him Jamie.
He said “Um…no?”
Even though its not in a weird way at all. I just want to look at him in it. Apparently that’s not good enough, even though marriage is SUPPOSED to be about compromise.
Anyway, this half review-half writing tips post is about a book that recently changed my life.
I have a problem naming my characters. Sometimes they come to me already named, like Levi Keats, the secondary male protagonist in Catalyst. Sometimes they come to me saying “Sorry, I seem to have forgotten who I am and I’ve left my identification in my other pants.
So then I struggle and stress and strain over the names of these people, whilst simultaneously forgetting the name of everything and everyone ever. Because that might give my inspiration, and we can’t have that. Thanks, brain.
Then, during a random visit to my mother, I saw this on her shelf:
I asked her if it was any good, to which she replied:
“I don’t know, I haven’t touched it. But you’re welcome to it.”
Don’t mind if I do.
It is exactly how I would have written a Naming book. Sixteen Pages of “Don’t give you’re characters stupid names, stupid”, then several hundred pages of lists and lists and lists of names. First names, last names, meanings, naming traditions, all grouped by origin. Perfection
So, if you’re like me and can’t think of anything to call a supporting character except “The guy with the dreadlocks.”, you should definitely pick this one up.
PS: I will be posting on my HP reread just as soon as I locate my copy of SS, which someone (cough:my sister) has stolen. Stay tuned