
This time of the year gets her creative juices flowing. Not that she’s alone on that front.
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

This time of the year gets her creative juices flowing. Not that she’s alone on that front.
In this case, they weren’t necessary born in Dayton, but the city did play a role in their success.
I should also mention Larry Flint, pornographer, who established Hustler magazine, named after his bar.

The Waco Diner’s looking quite festive. A nearly full moon adds to the effect.
Maybe I was intrigued by the title of the 1962 play, “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf,” but when I finally got around to reading her, in the novel The Waves, it was epiphany. While I had heard of stream-of-thought writing, but what overwhelmed me was the utter beauty of the prose and its observations. What poured forth was a stream, period.
I do get caught up in style more than content. Perhaps that reflects much of my career as a copy editor having to clean up a news story on a tight deadline.
Still, returning to her is always refreshing.
clusters of sails
how do you know how to mix

rolling waters as the pulse of the earth
a breathing
we ride
Now that we had the history of our old house back a century-and-a-half, there was still a 20-year gap of getting from Lucy M. Hooper, Anne Dodge, and Mary Roberts, who were named in the 1875 deed transfer, and the Shackford Est of the 1855 Eastport map.
Which Shackford was the Est, presumably for Estate, in the 1855 map?
It was a prolific family in town at the time.
Shackford is a name existing as three places in Eastport: a cove just south of the downtown, a head of land occupied today by a state park, and a residential street.
Just who were they?
I was already working this line from the earliest materials and trying to see if I could connect someone to the material you’ve already seen.
The central question, remember, was how far back did this house go?
It was time to take Captain John Shackford senior seriously.
I’d love to hear other novelists and short story writers discuss their reasons for selecting the names they apply to the figures in their stories.
For that matter, I’d love to hear readers’ reactions. Like what’s your favorite connection there?
I’ve avoided using names of people I’ve known well. Surprisingly, it became a problem especially in my ashram novel where the best Sanskrit names had already been given to my fellow residents. Elsewhere, it eliminates a wide swath of common names, starting with John, James, Robert, Thomas, and William for males. Or Jack, Jimmy, Bobby, Tommy, and Billy, more colorfully.
Had I known they wouldn’t be reading my work anyway, maybe I should have used the names and left people guessing. I’ve tried to be gentle, though, and perhaps that’s a weakness.
Though I’m not one to apply nicknames in everyday life, I have found them useful in my fiction. As examples, I’ll offer “Big Pumpkin” and “Elvis” for the swami in Yoga Bootcamp.
~*~
There’s also the matter of which figures get named and which ones can pass through unnamed. We don’t want to tangle a reader, do we?
A major consideration in revising my output was an attempt to reduce the number of named characters. For a big book, like the five-generation span of What’s Left or the four-year college life of Daffodil Uprising or the burgeoning social life of Kenzie in Pit-a-Pat High Jinks, this was a challenge.
I did find myself shading Greek tradition in What’s Left: repetition of a name within a family is common but would have been utterly confusing here.
As an alternative, I tried to limit some to a single chapter, treating it like a short story; when it was done, so were they.
Should abuses creep into one part, they are reformed by those that remain sound.
James Madison in Federalist No. 43, citing Montesquieu
