Here are the books I’ve read this month:
Here is what I’ve written/worked on this week:
Welcome to week twenty-three. If you missed any just look for the Friday Prompt category and/or tag. Please share/tweet/RT/etc and post a comment if you are participating. If you want to share, you can! Just post it in the comments, or send me an e-mail or mention on twitter.
This week’s prompt: Write about a time when you were so sick you wanted to die. Describe the feelings you had.
Here are the ‘rules’:
I always have trouble picking a title. In fact, most of my titles are absurd, terrible, or outright wrong. I’ll give you several iterations of the same story, but with its title history.
The first title is the name of a character in the story, and not the main one. Second? Terrible! There’s slight mention of a dish off-handedly. The third title doesn’t work, because they aren’t best friends. Fourth is just awkward. Fifth is a continuation of the poor friend theme. Sixth and seventh are similar, just one is more explanatory. The last one was given to me by a non-writer friend. And so far it works the best.
That is certainly a lot of titles to go through, and of course if I was less involved in the story, I would have chosen something similar.
The question is, what makes a good title? In this case, it has two meanings. My two main characters and forces in the book drink the beer Blue Moon. Also, something happens between the two that will never happen again, hence something happening in a blue moon. Double meaning that was totally unintentional that I will use for my advantage!
A good way to think of a title is as an invitation to the piece. If you are going to have a formal dinner party, you send out formal invitations with formal lettering. If your just getting together with friends to have some fun, you may use something like facebook or email to send out the invitation and not be fancy about it. With a title, you invite a reader into your story and that invitation should tell them something about the story, and give them an idea of what they might be getting into. For example, if you saw the title “Dishes During Spring” you might expect it to be about someone washing dishes after a party or cleaning up after something (which isn’t true for this particular story).
After think about the invitation as title, also think about a recurring image or theme that comes across in the piece. Perhaps there are a lot of balloons, or sea shells. You can attach a meaning to the balloons in a title like so, “LikeLollipops” and maybe the MC thinks they look like lollipops in the air. Or the sea shell, “Hermit Crab’s Shell” where you have a story about a man who’s a hermit like but comes out of his shell. You want the title to connect to the piece in more than one way, that way it has meaning other than just words at the front of the book.
And yes, titles are a bitch.
Here is another teaser from my WIP, The Balance:
Unusual sun broke through the clouds. Light spilled over buildings, cascading down walls, and flooding the streets. The pervasive fog and rain dissipated, leaving the skies crystalline blue. Vivid colors popped in the sunlight.
Celeste walked down the Palace tree-lined avenue, holding hands with Rhyn. Her dressed rustled in the light breeze. His hand felt warm in hers, dry and comforting. She leaned into him, inhaling. He would be leaving later that afternoon.
He detangled his hand, wrapping it around her shoulder as they continued. Though the sun was out, it was a biting cold afternoon. Several people ran about their errands, while other strolled in the unexpected weather. Clear blue skies were uncommon, to say the least. She’d learned that in her few years here.
Soon they came to a more populous area. Hundreds of people milled the streets, more to be outside than anything. Celeste enjoyed being lost in the crowd. Rhyn guided them through the streets, and she paid little attention to where she was going. She felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders: she could finally get something done.
They turned a corner and a park lay before them, small, but the trees and grass comforted Celeste. She was used to gardens or wild living not endless buildings. She reached for his hand, kissing him lightly on the cheek.
“I have something to give to you,” he said, putting his finger to her lips. “But you’ll have to wait.”
Writerly Words 