The Title and its Importance
DAY 061 - 26/2/3 -
What would a book be without a title? The same thing a person would be without a name.
They would be known by themselves but not by others.
A person doesn't need a name to know who they are, but they do need one to tell someone else. When God spoke with Moses through the burning bush, Moses asked God to tell him His name. This was not so Moses could know who God is, but so others could know. That is why Moses said, “Suppose I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is His name?’” (Exodus 3:13 NIV). Then God said to Moses, "I am who I am," (Exodus 3:14 NIV), and so God gave Moses a title that he could give to others.
That's another thing about names. They are communal. The sharing of them signifies the growth of a relationship. This even applies to inanimate objects. On the movie set of Jaws (1975), a film about a man-eating shark, director Steven Spielberg referred to all the mechanical sharks on set as "the shark." His film crew, though, referred to each of them by technical terms, but the biggest shark was given a proper name, Bruce. Once the crew started referring to that animatronic fish by a name, they developed a fondness for it, despite the fact that Bruce often broke down. Giving Bruce a title didn't make him work better. It didn't change what Bruce was, but it changed how the crew and Spielberg perceived that irritating rubber predator.
"What's in a name, anyway?
That which we call a nose by any other
name would still smell."
- Long, Singer and Winfield
My book has a name, though it didn't at first. For about four months, it was known as simply 'Writing Project 25.' I had absolutely no idea what to call it. Nothing sounded "right," not in a way that suited my story's young adult sci-fi genre. Plus, I didn't just need one title. I needed two. This novel is part of a series, so it needed its own title, as well as a series title.
To say the least, I was stumped.
Around that time, I handed off my first chapters to some friends. They read it, and came back to me with a similar comment, "Your setting is wrong." I would ask them what they meant, and they told me, "The book takes place where you live, but why is it so strange?" I responded that the book didn't take place in my hometown but was in a nation far away. I figured my readers would understand, but they told me, "The setting didn't have a name, so I figured it was where you live." This stunned me. I didn't think my book's setting needed a name, until I realized that without one, everyone thought the story took place in their own proverbial backyard. They assumed it was in the present with modern technology—all because my book's nation didn't have a title.
So, I sat at my desk, and on the couch, and my bed and tried to come up with a name for my fictional nation. I filled my head with ideas, and my phone with a few of the decent ones. After a long night of thinking, it came to me. In fact, it struck me with such force that I wrote it down on a blue post-it note.
I read it over again, and something in me said, "Yes. This is it." The name of my novel's setting should also be my novel's title. It represented my story: A story about a far-off world much different from our own, where a sister and brother must work together if they shall survive. My book's title:
LEGACY OF REVIA
—SIBLINGS OF FIRE—
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