What's in a title? Wouldn't a title by any other title still smell as sweet? A title is a title is a title, right?
With apologies to both Willie and Gertrude, I find myself thinking about titles and their importance not only for that potential buyer out there once we finish our masterpiece, but even--and maybe especially--as guideposts and north stars for us as we work through our drafting and fine tuning. We recently published a marvelous short story in Flying Island by a talented young writer who mentioned that they really struggled with titles and sometimes didn't even have a working title for a project. We chatted about titles and their importance and how they indeed can sometimes evolve as we progress, but my point was that having at least a working title can and should inspire and guide us as we work.
Speaking of evolving titles, the original title of my civil war manuscript (see these posts, Knit One, Purl Two and Unravelling the Yarn) had been Come Retribution, which had apparently been one of only four code phrases used by the Confederates during the war. While still finishing up the first draft, I had a chance to pitch a New York agent at a week-long workshop and, having never done it before, I launched into my ramble and forgot to even mention the title. When I told her the protagonist finally realized her goal had to be "to strike a single hour" from the war, her face lit up and she stopped me to ask "Is that the title?" Of course, being reasonably bright, it only took me a few seconds to catch my breath and nod "Yes, do you like it?" She loved the title and asked me to send her the full manuscript whenever I was ready. She ended up considering the novel for seven months and testing the concept with a couple editors before finally deciding to pass on it, but the name stuck.
