The Name’s the Thing

I have a problem. I’m loathe to even write about it, because it feels very much like a rookie mistake. A mistake that any half-decent literary agent who happens to stumble upon this blog will see and will instantly use as an excuse to label me as a no talent hack.

I can’t name my characters.

I sit down to write and get moving along and freeze up as soon as a new person walks on stage. No one has a name that fits. A big part of the problem, I think, is that I’m a teacher. Any name I think of I immediately associate with some past student. I project their traits out onto my character, I fear that they’ll actually somehow read what I’m writing some day and will see that I’ve written them into the story.

The same thing happened when my wife and I had to name our children. The problem then was doubled; she was a teacher too. Names we had long thought of as not being all that bad – maybe names we would have settled on for our son – were forever spoiled because of that one kid with ADHD that I had third hour two years ago, or that girl whose mom never blinked – not once! – during parent/teacher conferences.

In the end, we were able to name our kids. People like our kids’ names. They fit. The problem for me is that finding a name for them was a months-long process. I’m nowhere near as attached to the characters I’m writing about as I am to my own children of course, but naming them is proving to be just as hard. I ask my wife about it, I try to project different names onto my characters as I go through the day. I can’t take months on this process.

I keep going back to the idea that writing breeds writing. I have settled on opening a website and using the first name I see. If I go back and change the name later, no problem. But maybe the characters will grow into their names.

Maybe it’s not worth all this fuss.