Do you ever wonder where novelists find the names they use? Sometimes they just drop into our thoughts, but sometimes we borrow them.
I’ve honored some of my peeps by using a modified version of their name as a location, a geographical feature, or another story element. Some are more easily recognizable than others.
I only make people into honorary rogues who have a strong sense of both security and humor. If you ever come across a nefarious scoundrel tagged with your name (or something strangely reminiscent of it), know that I see you as an intensely secure and affable individual.
Humans aren’t the only source of inspiration. I know a slightly sinister street name: Issard. To me, it veers ever so slightly towards wizard, lizard and gizzard. Perfecto!
The connotations we attach to specific names are fascinating. Ten years apart, I’d named two different cats Monty. To me, that’s a playful name and not to be taken seriously. Ever. (Remember Monty Python?) Then, at a funeral, I was introduced to the director. You guessed it. I had to choke back laughter as I shook hands with Director Monty. (He wasn’t nearly as cute as the cats.)
In Book One of my series, a main character once lived in the city of Karizmur, in the country of Ginadia. Why those names? Well, I had a teacher who used to put an “R” on the end of words that ended in “A.” “Canada” became “Cana-der,” and “charisma” became… Bingo! So, being from Ginadia would make this character Ginadian, right? Say it fast enough, it sounds like “Canadian,” which I am. I wanted to slip in my country’s name, because I love it. Almost like the bouncer who sneaks his favorite cousin into the bar for a private event.
To maintain a Mediterranean flavor, I made up words that felt slightly Greek, Italian or Spanish. Years ago in Spanish class, our first complete sentence was, “Yo quiero dos cervezas,” or “I want two beers.” So when I needed a name for Loneccan home brew, I came up with “sevecho.” Cerveza/Sevecho. Tomato/To-mah-to. Not bad.
I needed a name for a small boy, so I asked a fellow writer what his favorite vehicle was. His reply? Beamer. The boy’s name? Bimur. Lonecca’s capital city of Arindam is derived from the letters in my friend Miranda’s name, backwards and slightly rearranged.
Then there’s the greedy king’s four daughters, named after four Canadian banks (no slur intended). Toronto Dominion became Tormin. The Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce, or CIBC, evolved into Cibek. The Royal Bank of Canada, known as RBC, morphed into Arbici. And Scotiabank inspired Scoshaba.
Now you know. Names are just that much fun. So leave a comment. Leave your name…
If you dare.
Ciao for now,
Kai O’Connor