Mar 01 2010
The art and craft of conjuring names
How do I know when I have the right name? When it just… fits.
My WIP, The Adventures of the Sky Pirate, is a hybrid swashbuckling / steampunk / space opera, some of which takes place on a planet that is not Earth but was inhabited by people from Earth. Therefore, some names are familiar to an Anglo reader, and some are new. That gives me freedom to alternately crib from names that fly around me and make up my own. Add to that names based on local color ala Mike Resnick’s space Tall Tales, and you get a nice mishmash of names which are familiar, new, and flat-out exotic.
For instance, the characters on my swashbuckling privateer crew sport a rogue’s gallery of colorful names; Cooper Flynn (Capt), Clarissa McDougall (Flynn’s fiery love interest), Mr. Horatio Pitt (First Officer), Deena Prentiss (Dr, Mr. Pitt’s estranged wife), Cleric Mathen Vaneras (Van-air-es, converted assassin), Bola (Amazon merc and weapons expert), Eggplant (navigator, not his real name), Chain (mechanical genius who keeps the ship in the air), Tuy Meklanek (advisor to the Crown), The Barracuda (legendary assassin), Mr. Humble (sailor, his real last name, if a smidge ironic), Lt. Gillings (Lieutenant, duh, heh), Blind Bart (a once-clumsy navigator who has earned his unfortunate nickname), and the colorful Friar of Briar Island (Long John Silver-ish sometime privateer / sometime pirate). Piro and Miro are father and son servants for The Friar of Briar Island, and the Friar’s Champion is a short, slim, and utterly lethal fellow named Mok Moire. There’s a mysterious figure named Felo who is not of that world, and whose form is variable.
Each character’s name came to me in their own fashion. I’ve labored for days over some of them, and others, like Eggplant’s nickname, dripped straight from my fingertips to the page.
I have a love / hate relationship with names and naming. I hate doing it, and love it when it works out. And it always works out, sooner or later.
But there’s the rub. Some names come to me instantly, while others have taken weeks or months to correctly cobble together.
I was watching the guilty-pleasure film Twister again last night. I’m a sucker for misfit teams, and this team is right up there with the one from Sneakers. I went along for the ride, again, as Bill, former twister-hunter, tries to settle down and be a staid-but-dependable weatherman. But everyone knows that his heart (and art) is in being outside in-country sussing out where the next big one will hit based as much on chutzpah and seasoned feel as on observation and actual meteorology.
That’s how I feel about coming up with names; it is equal parts art and craft, with a healthy dollop of luck thrown in for seasoning.
And, yes, you just /know/ you’ve got the right one when you hit it. It’s like striking a tuning fork and feeling the tone resonating in your belly, in your very bones.





