What’s in a name?

Despite some concerns about how I prioritise my time, I recently allocated several hours to a task that is either brilliantly forward thinking or the biggest waste of time since ironing underwear (not guilty: I struggle even to assemble the ironing board). In the process of editing the short stories in my forthcoming collection, Becoming Someone, I altered the names of a few characters to avoid duplication. So far, so sensible. But I couldn’t leave it at that. I also trawled through my debut novel, Sugar and Snails, my second novel, Underneath, and my current WIP, with the aim of abolishing overlaps across my published work. Is this evidence of a professional approach to my writing or an overly obsessive and perfectionist personality?

Naming our main characters is almost as fraught as naming a baby – or perhaps a pet. Not only must the name feel right for the person as we perceive them, it should be appropriate to their age and culture (or if it doesn’t, we should have a good reason why). If a character develops in an unexpected direction, we might find ourselves renaming them partway through the writing, although this can be quite disorientating for the author (and for early readers too if we miss one). I made it particularly difficult for myself with both Sugar and Snails and my current WIP in wanting my main character to have two (or more) possible versions of their name.
 
I’m less fussy about naming the secondary characters, often plucking names from the ether. But in my novels I do try to avoid confusing readers by giving characters similar names. It’s particularly tricky with my current WIP as three interweaving strands means more characters than my other novels. When I discovered I’d written a scene involving a Mervyn, Matty and Mavis, the latter, as the most peripheral of the three, had to become Hilda even though I preferred her original name. And pity the occupational therapist, currently on her third name (Heather) after Vanessa and then Ingrid were too easily confused with other characters.
 
If naming is so complex within books is it worth the effort of striving for uniqueness across published works? I say yes for our main characters (I don’t expect to ever again write a novel narrated by a Diana or a Steve or partnered by a Simon or Liesel) and a qualified no for bit-part tertiary characters (unless they’ve been given particularly unusual names). But for secondary characters, those who pop up now and again to help push the story along?

When we adopt the first (or second or third) name that pops into our minds for a minor character, our choice might be influenced by biases of which we are unaware. I don’t know why both my published novels reference a character called Max (Diana’s former boss in Sugar and Snails; Steve’s nephew in Underneath) – although admittedly they never show their faces, let alone speak, but one does snore. And, when several characters manage perfectly well without surnames, why have I created two Hetheringtons (a nurse who fortunately appears in only one scene in Sugar and Snails; the neighbour who looks after Steve occasionally as a child in Underneath)? I don’t think the name has any particular resonance for me.
 
Perhaps by now you’re wondering why I think that matters. It’s unlikely anyone will ever study my fiction so closely to notice such a gaffe. But a reader named Max or Hetherington might pick up on it. If I can avoid such duplication in the future, shouldn’t I try? Or am I better off spending my time ironing knickers? Let me know what you think!

I’d already chosen the image to accompany this post when Charli’s introduction to the latest flash fiction prompt featured an impressive array of badges. But the theme is “follow your dreams” and, in composing my response, it struck me that I hadn’t considered gender in my musings on character names. This might be why:

Personal pronouns

The girls talked shoes and shopping, so I ran with the boys. Till they obsessed on cricket and football, and I walked alone. Why did girls paint their faces and fuss with their hair? Why did boys get drunk on swagger, beer and playful punches? Neither camp suited me.

“I’m changing my name to Alex, Chris or Charlie.”

Sis clocks my breasts, my knee-high boots, my beard. “Looks like that’s not all you’re changing.”

“I’m following my dream to shake off the shackles of gender.” Gonna get me a badge: I’m Sam and my pronouns are they and their.