A title. One simple fricken title.
That’s all I’m looking for. I’m searching for a better title for the second book in the Penley Mystery Series. I want something to grab the reader’s attention and imagination. In the search for the name, I’ve staged my own mini-protest and all that’s missing is a #All Titles Matter sign. Titles do matter and will turn potential readers off, or lure them into pulling the book off the store shelf for a closer look.
After 90,000 words, edits and revisions, coming up with a title should be a snap. But the only snapping I’m hearing is the swarming of crickets in the field.
After filling post it notes and notebook pages with potential titles, nothing seemed to jump out and scream, “This is the one true
ring title.” Whenever, I hit a plot problem, or a question on which character to kill off, I pull out my secret weapon. Two weapons, actually. I take the dogs for a long walk while I noodle on the story problem that vexes me. This time it was the title conundrum.
Usually, these guys are pretty helpful in getting my mind unstuck. This time–I’m not so sure. The possible crime fiction titles that came from our walk had a certain focus. Among them were:
- We Need Brushing
- When Do I Get A Cookie?
- Where is That Damn Cat?
- Are We There Yet?
- I’m Peeing on This Rock
- Oh–A Bird
You see my problem. Tanner and Emma reminded me that It’s all about the Corgis–all the time. When we got home, I picked up my notepad and read off a few of the titles I’d carefully crafted. Their reaction was less than enthusiastic…
Fine, I’ll go do this one my own, without your help. Or maybe I’ll ask the neighbor’s Labrador for input. He seems like a free spirited guy:
The search continues…