It’s readily apparent to me that the use of cool new names in modern literature is evidence of ground-breaking creativity. Every Young Adult book that you pick up (and I don’t pick them up as I must save my energy for more vital tasks, such as building lego starfighters with my small, warlike offspring) features a hard-abbed hero with an impressively non-traditional moniker such as Slade, Cade or Devin.
Somehow, a story acquires much more gravitas when it features someone named Slade. For instance…
Slade Devereaux paused in the middle of his morning ritual of five hundred crunches in order to take a long, cooling drink of organic fair-trade water. He knew it was vital to stay hydrated. It was almost as important as raising the minimum wage to fifteen dollars an hour, plus benefits. As the water slipped down his muscled throat, his mind drifted to last night and the time he had spent with Esme Swavay.
Was she thinking of him now? Was he thinking of her thinking of him now. Yes, he could answer that, being self-aware; he was. But was she now thinking of him thinking of her thinking of him? That was the question.
Any-hoot, I think the real killer app to make it big in modern publishing is the names. It’s all about the names. You’ll thank me later if you’re an aspiring writer, but, if you can come up with awesome names that evoke intense coolness, you’ve made it. Don’t worry about your story. That’ll take care of itself. Concentrate on the names.
Currently, I’m probably writing a story about an exclusive prep school where all the students are actually were-muskrats in secret. Every night they change into muskrats and go out and ravage the city’s trees. The entire population is on edge. Editorials are written in the papers. Commentators pontificate on the nightly news about the ravagement. Everyone is wondering if their avocado tree or kumquat tree will be next.
The only problem is, I don’t have any cool names, so this is gonna be a failure of a story. Unless I come up with the right names.