Sometimes, plot happens.
[Editor’s note: Apparently, in addition to needing talent, I can also use an editor. I had an extra “y” dangling in the earlier version, which I only caught a little while ago. Possibly the best letter to have dangling at the end of a word considering the subject. Above is a slightly updated version, sans extra “y.”]
Filed under cartoon by author, CarToonsday
The Queen was touring a Scottish hospital. She approached the bed of a patient who shouted out: “Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o’ the pudding-race!”
Another patient staggered up to her and sang “Should auld acquaintance be forgot.”
Turning to a doctor she asked if she was in a ward for mental patients.
“No ma’am,” he said. “This is the Burns Unit.”
[Editor’s note: look up the works of Scottish poet Robert Burns if you have trouble getting this pun. But, hey, it’s the closest joke I have that is in any way related to writing and the Olympics, which used to have poetry competition as an event. Sadly, no more. Not in the modern Olympics, which I like could use a little literary lift.]
Filed under Monday morning writing joke
Hair on my pillow. /
Touching it, I feel your touch. /
Day begins anew.
Filed under haiku, poetry by author, Workshop weekend
The blathering idiot darts up to a stocking clerk in a grocery store.
“You’re Spotted Dick, where is it?”
The male stocking clerk looks at him. “Come again?”
“Your Spotted Dick,” the blathering idiot said. “I need your Spotted Dick.”
“But I don’t have one.”
“One? One what?”
“Spotted dick, sir.”
“But you’ve advertised that you do.”
The clerk’s face turns red.
“I have not!”
“Yes, you have.”
“No I haven’t!”
“Yes, you have advertised that you have Spotted Dick.”
The clerk blushes. “That’s not what I advertised, sir.”
The blathering idiot stops, looks at the young man, a couple of small clusters of acne on his check and chin, and slowly realizes he may have been misunderstood.
He spots another clerk. This time a woman. He walks up to her. “Have you Spotted Dick?”
“Have you tried aisle nine?” she says and then quickly walks away.
Canned Spotted Dick; find it at your local grocery store. Just be careful whom you ask.
“Thank you.” The blathering idiot walks over to aisle nine. It is an aisle of coffee and tea and some drinks in pouches, but there is no Spotted Dick. He stomps up and down the aisle twice and is about the curse this store, the earth, even the universe itself when a woman walks by, Spotted Dick in her cart, near the top, the name in plain view.
His face lights up. He points at the can. “Madam, do you know what you have?!”
She looks him up and down. “It’s not what you think.”
“I know what it is.”
“It’s not disgusting or lewd.”
“Where … did … you … find it? I must have it.”
“It’s the last can and you can’t have it.”
“It’s the last can and I can’t have it?”
“That’s right.”
“No it’s not. It’s the last can and I can have it.” He reaches forward, snatches it out of her cart, and runs to the front of the store. He hears the woman wailing and sobbing, screaming to anybody and everybody that somebody has her Spotted Dick.
The blathering idiot is almost out of the store when he is stopped by an off duty police officer working as a security guard. The blathering idiot has his Spotted Dick firmly clutched in his hands. He told the checkout clerk he didn’t need a bag. Zoey was waiting. It was all she wanted to patch things up between them. It was British, she said, and she wanted to help celebrate the Olympics. She showed him the ad and off he dashed to the store, barely getting his clothes on.
“Sir, I need to see some ID,” the security guard says.
“What?” the blathering idiot asks. “I paid for it fair and square.”
The guard nods. “I’m sure you did, but I still need to see some ID. I’m afraid I am going to have to cite you.”
“For what?”
The guard looks down at what the blathering idiot has clutched in his hand. Then he looks down below that. “Sir, your fly is open and several people have spotted … have seen your spotted….”
Filed under blathering idiot, Saturday story, Workshop weekend
There once was a poet from Maine
whose haiku would cause others in vain
to say that they could do, too,
the verse and rhythm that he knew,
but it drove many who attempted insane.
Filed under Freeform Friday, poetry by author, rhyming poetry
There once was a man called Mumpsimus
who when he spoke, wasn’t quite one of us.
He’d say Hello for Good bye,
or Good Night at noon high.
But we knew he was kind when he cussed at us.
Filed under Freeform Friday, limerick, poetry by author
The river reaches /
back to the moment of its /
beginning: one drop.
The river carries /
forward to the time of its /
enduring: one drop
[Editor’s note: Okay, since there are two haiku here on the same subject, sort of mirror images of each other, maybe I should call this biku or ambi-ku or maybe even dos-ku. Duo-ku?]
Filed under haiku, Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
There once was a man from Ft. Wayne.
Whose bride nearly drove him to abstain.
Little sex, no thrills –
She was all “porcupine quills” –
Until he sang songs with bawdy refrains.
Filed under limerick, poetry by author, Random acts of poetry
“What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.”
–Juliet from the play Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare
If Shakespeare received a nickel for every time he was quoted, he’d be able to rebuild The Globe Theatre many times over. He might even make Donald Trump envious. But that is a story for another time.
A few thoughts on naming your characters. I have known writers who called their protagonist “X” or “Mrs. Y” throughout the draft of a story or novel, because they weren’t sure what to call him or her.
A character’s name can help ground her in your story’s world, no matter where that world is.
Who knows, if really stuck for a name or if your story is Kafkaesque, you might be able to use only a letter for the character’s name. But most of the time that won’t work.
Still, there are no etched-in-stone rules for naming characters, but here are a few suggestions. By no means are these all inclusive suggestions.
1) The first name you come up with is not unalterable. Until a story or novel is accepted for publication, you can change the name. So, if you have trouble picking out names, maybe the first thing to do is relax. The mystery writer, Robert B. Parker had originally named his private detective David Spenser, but at the last minute decided to pull the first name, because he had two sons, one named David, and he didn’t want to possibly offend his other son by not have a character named after him. So, David Spenser became Spenser, with two “S’s,” like the poet.
2) If you write in a particular genre, consider if the protagonist’s names have a certain “form” or “rhythm” to them. Turning to the detective fiction genre again, for many years the protagonists always had last names that implied the type of work they did. For example, in The Maltese Falcon, the private eye protagonist’s name was Sam Spade. Spade is a tool for digging. Private eye’s dig up information. Other examples include Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer and Ross MacDonald’s Lew Archer. By the way, Lew Archer was also Sam Spade’s partner in The Maltese Falcon. Archer was killed early on, so I guess Ross MacDonald decided to use the name since Dashiell Hammett wasn’t going to use it any more.
3) Names can reflect part of a characters personality or indicate social strata. For example, a woman named Bunny could be somebody who comes from a well to do family. Or a family that doesn’t but wants to think it does. The other end of the scale would be naming a character Huckleberry as in Huckleberry Finn, the protagonist is the novel about the adventures of this character whose mother is dead and whose father is a drunken illiterate.
Another example might be Mrs. Kitty Warren in George Bernard Shaw’s play Mrs. Warren’s Profession. Warren as a word means a place where rabbits bread or live. It can also mean a building housing many renters in crowded rooms. Mrs. Kitty Warren is a woman who has made her way in the world by being a brothel owner. In this case, both the first name, “Kitty” and the last name “Warren” hint at least part of the nature of the character.
Remember, unlike most of us, who are “stuck” with the names our parents gave us, the names in novels, stories, plays, and other forms of writing can be changed and can be used to help round out your protagonists (and other characters) or hint at aspects of their natures.
Some sources to consider are dictionaries of first names and what those names mean. For example, Eugene means “well born.”There are even some books that talk about the meaning’s of last names. Or, as in the case of Warren above, even a good standard dictionary can help you.
So, while Juliet is correct when she says:
“Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What’s Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man.”
A name – the name you select for your protagonist – can be just as important as a hand or foot, arm or face. It is, after all, a part of that character.
Filed under character naming, writing tip, Writing Tip Wednesday
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