The other day I was in a gathering of women, some of whom I know well and many who are relative strangers. As part of the opening, we went around the room saying our names. There were a few repeats, as you would expect in a group of 35 or 40, but since the ages ranged from about 20 to 70, there was also quite a variety.
When my mind began to wander during the meeting, I spent some time examining individual people and trying to imagine them as babies or youngsters. It's one of the ways I entertain myself. It made me think about the names. They didn't pick their own, most likely. That's not how it's done. When they were born, their parents decided on a name and pasted it onto the new little person without a clue whether it would fit or not. And some names don't fit at all.
As I looked around and paired names and faces, I could imagine the parents full of hopes for their new little babies. There were Melissas and Lisas and Katherines and Susans, and even two Natashas. The older names sound so solid, and a little intimidating, like Mary Margaret or Nora or Dolores. Some have been shortened or altered by their owners --- Toni for Antoinette, Pat for Patricia, Jill for Julia. I was struck by the simplicity of Jane. You don't run into a lot of Janes anymore. Some of the more foreign or ethnic sounding names I can't even remember, but they definitely convey a cultural message.
I wonder what effect a name has on the developing child. Some names can be a definite hindrance, others can make the difference between fitting in or not. Some have associations that are thrust upon them by popular culture or famous figures. Do we live up to (or down to) our names? Do we take on characteristics of family members we're named after?
When I was a storyteller, I usually made sure that the villain had an unusual name that would not likely be shared by any of the children in the audience, while the hero usually had a fairly common name like Tom or Mary. I could always tell when I hit on a name in the group; all the other kids would turn to that child and giggle or point. By the end of the story, the heroic exploits of the character would be attributed to that child, who would often be beaming with pride. I always wondered how long that carried over.
One of the things I enjoy about being a novelist is that I get to come up with names. After all, you can only have so many babies in a lifetime. You wind up with a drawer full of unused names, perfectly good ones that would look so cute on a little kid.
That's one of the troubles though, isn't it? Halfway through the pregnancy the naming conversation begins. Everybody has an opinion. There are family names, traditions, customs and religion that can influence a child's name. And, of course, the trend factor. Everybody named Jennifer who was born in the 70s and 80s please stand up.
I collect names from live people, from books and news articles, baby name lists, cemeteries, movie credits, and my own genealogy. I just found a good one when I was looking through my mother's high school photo album. One of her friends was named Clella.
I guess I'm going to have to keep writing fiction until I run out of names. That's ok. At least it keeps me off the streets and well caffeinated.
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