In The Books of Magic comic books, written by the incomparable Neil Gaiman, 12-year-old Tim Hunter meets DC Comics' most powerful magicians, including John Constantine, Mister E, Doctor Occult, and the Phantom Stranger. These four trenchcoated powerhouse magicians give Tim a tour of DC's magical universe because he has the potential to become the world's most powerful magician, and they want him to make an informed decision before he chooses to embrace or reject this destiny. When introduced, the chain-smoking Constantine tells the boy, "First rule of magic. Don't let anybody know your real name. Names have power."
This was perhaps the first time I encountered this concept, years before Harry Potter or Harry Dresden, and I've found that naming characters in fiction is a kind of magic. When I find a name that fits, that sounds and feels right, my random notes, ideas, and sketches coalesce into an entity I can work with.
When it's time to name a character, my go-to resource is The Writer's Digest Character Naming Sourcebook (signed by Sherrilyn Kenyon when I met her at Superstars Writing Seminars). Each section, organized by country of origin, offers a concise history along with common surnames, individual names, and their meanings. Unlike other name books, this is streamlined for the writer, and it includes advice on naming characters, tidbits from well-known authors, and handy lists and indexes.
I tend to follow several strategies. The first is to make names unique so the reader can easily differentiate them. If a name begins with the same letter or sound, it can lead to confusion. Back in my bookstore days, for example, I once worked with a Kim and a Tim, and it was hard to distinguish the three of us over the intercom. In fiction, such unnecessary confusion would be maddening for your readers. Worse, it would yank them out of the story. It is for this reason that I usually choose names that look and sound cool, but don't give readers a problem, such as Kory Shaw, Trace, Vallen Doss, Tez, and Silas Blue.
This conflicts with my lifelong passion for epic fantasy, in which names like Fafhrd, Yyyrkoon, and Nynaeve were commonplace. (Bonus points if you know where these names came from.)
For me, a character's ethnic background and family history is important to consider. Where and when were they born? Why was that name chosen for them?
I was named after two of my dad's friends who shared the name. Those relationships were important to him. The name had power for him, and he passed that power onto me.
When I created Vernados, the mysterious newcomer to the fire crew in my story "Smokechaser," I needed a name that sounded like it was rooted in the mythic Black Forest of Germany. "Vernados" was unique and it fit the background I was creating. Most importantly, the name means "courage of a bear." If you've read the story, you'll understand why this name had power for this character.
Sometimes it's the meaning behind the name that attracts me. For instance, my skinwalker in the Midnight Agency series is a gruff, lone wolf character. Although he supports Driskill faithfully, he would much rather be scouting ahead or hunting. When I came across the name Mingan, which means "gray wolf" or "timber wolf," I liked the sound of it, and its uniqueness clicked.
Other times, I dig the vibe of the name. Originally, my captain of the Midnight Agency was going to be named Driscoll, but I liked the alternative spelling better (Driskill) because it sounded both civilized and deadly, which was perfect for my gentleman gunslinger.
Funny sidebar. Driskill's first name was originally Ronald in a short story called "Ghost in New Town," but the editor at Crowded Magazine, an Aussie, said it reminded him of a "certain American clown," and asked me to change it to Roland before publication. Good call, mate.
In the earliest draft, however, I found myself veering away from "Roland." In fact, even he couldn't refer to himself as Roland. "Driskill" came to the forefront, which I believed carried over from his military days, when his commanding officers barked his surname. In other words, the boy, Roland, was long gone. His team should probably refer to him as "Captain," yet Carlos often calls him "jefe" and Mingan calls him "boss." Although this was a way for me to differentiate voices while writing dialogue, Driskill didn't mind. He had much bigger concerns in his post-apocalyptic world. Besides, we all wear different names.
In my early childhood, I preferred to be called "Kenny," and several dear friends still use the nickname. Later, I was renamed "Ken" by a high school crush. From her lips, that name held a new power, which I still prefer. Yet neither of these two nicknames is my birth name. So which of the three is my real name?
This was a surprisingly fun subject to explore, so I'll continue this thread in another post. I'll reveal the origins of other character names, place names, and more.
Thanks for tuning in, whatever your name may be.
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