My first novel runs to 86,500 words, give or take a few. That’s 86,500 words that I wrote myself, all out of my own head. And that’s quite a lot of words.
So why am I finding it so hard to come up with a couple more for a title??
For a long while in its youth, the novel was called Dark Energies. I still think that’s a strong title, but fear it sounds a bit too sci-fi. I don’t want to end up on the wrong shelf, do I? Incidentally, that’s a whole other debate – the book is fiction and deals with themes of quantum physics, so in a very literal sense it is a bit sci-fi. But it’s mostly a contemporary urban love story with a twist and a mighty helping of mystery thrown in.
For a shorter period – one week to be precise – it became Jumping From Cliffs. That works for a blog, but doesn’t work for a book. I kept asking myself “would I want to read a book called Jumping From Cliffs?”
The answer was “only if I were considering suicide but couldn’t work out how to do it.”
For ten minutes I dallied with Façades but had an overwhelming urge to punch myself in the face at the pretentiousness of it. Plus, it’s rather Jilly Cooper-esque. And that’s never a good thing.
So here I am, metaphorically sitting on 86,500 words of manuscript, without a name to its name.
Surely a few words can’t be that difficult?
At this rate it’s going to be called A Story About Some People Who Do Things.
So tell me friends, how do you come up with your titles?