Arthur C. Clarke’s “The Star” (winner in 1956) actually violates what I tell my students. It’s the sort of name, an article and common noun, devoid of verb that I would circle on a paper. But it’s such a classic story of its time, shamelessly yanking out every emotional stop, and so it’s pretty easy to see why it was that year’s winner.
Past that, others bear out my thesis. Avram Davidson’s “Or All The Sea With Oysters” (winner in 1958) is a stylish killer of a title, carrying a whiff of Caroll-esque steampunk long before its time. Robert Bloch – “That Hellbound Train” (winner in 1959) (What train, the reader wonders, what is it like, who are its riders?); Anton Lee Baker – “They’ve Been Working On…” (nominee in 1959) (Who are they? What are they working on, and why does the author give us that trailing off, that textual pause of the …?); Alfred Bester – “The Men Who Murdered Mohammed” (nominee in 1959) (Murder’s a sinewy lump of a word that sometimes overpowers the rest of the title, but here it’s effective as can be.); Algis Budrys – “The Edge of the Sea” (nominee in 1959) ( plain language in a poetic construction, which manages to pull it off given that Bester is usually a guarantee of decent quality that will justify it); C.M. Kornbluth – “The Advent on Channel Twelve” and “Theory of Rocketry” (both nominees in 1959) (simple but powerful); and then Fritz Leiber’s audacious and (imo) funny as hell “Rump-Titty-Titty-Tum_Tah-Tee” (nominee in 1959).
Look at the more recent stuff if you don’t have time to delve lovingly through that list (which I think would be a useful exercise for any writer, I plan on doing it myself), which continues to support my claim. There’s Michael Swanwick’s “The Very Pulse of the Machine” (winner in 1999), “Scherzo with Tyrannosaur” (winner in 2000) and “The Dog Said Bow-Wow” (winner in 2002), David Langford’s “Different Kinds of Darkness” (winner in 2001), Neil Gaiman’s “A Study in Emerald” (winner in 2004), David Levine’s “Tk’tk’tk” (winner in 2006), Elizabeth Bear’s “Tideline” (winner in 2008) (short and sweet and powerful), Ted Chiang’s “Exhalation” (winner in 2009), and most recently Will McIntosh’s “Bridesicle” (winner in 2010).
The writer can’t afford to throw away the possibilities of the title, there’s just too much chance to set the hook in the reader there with the right cast. Make your lure beautiful, jingly with poetic principles, flashy or intricate or if you’re among the most daring, something so simple and beautiful in its form that it’s irresistible. Load it with the sensory or weight it with muscular verbs, but make it pull the reader in so your first three paragraphs can render them helpless and absorbed and yours for the story.
A title’s often the last thing I add to a story in completing it. I may go hunting through books of poetry to find something suitable, or listen to song lyrics, or even just daydream about verbs. I may comb through the piece looking for images or particularly lovely lines, particularly ones that occur in moments of high tension, revelation, or in the last few paragraphs.
What’s your favorite title – either your own or someone else’s?
16 Responses
One of my SF titles, “Touching from a Distance,” came from the lyrics of a song that was very inspirational to the work itself (“Transmission” by Joy Division). I think it’s pretty simple, but has a nice poetic ring to it, as well.
In recent memory, my favorite titles are probably “I’m Alive, I Love You, I’ll See You in Reno” by Vylar Kaftan — definitely hooked me with that one — and Joe Hill’s “You Will Hear the Locust Sing.”
Great titles, like a great opening paragraph, throw questions at the reader; those questions serve as the hook. When I was still a member of Critters, at least one reader told me that they chose to critique my story solely because she liked the title — so yes, they’re very important.
Favorite of mine: “The Vessel Never Asks For More Wine”
Favorite title (Harlan Ellison): “The Man Who Rowed Christopher Columbus Ashore”
“Vaster Than Empires and More Slow” – title of an Ursula K. Le Guin sci-fi stands out. So does “To Kill a Mockingbird” and “A River Runs Through It.” What’s the ‘it’? Ah, so hooky.
I’m terrible at titles myself. And I’ve not yet found great advice on selecting them, so thanks for providing your insights!
I think they’re hard to do, and one of the reasons it’s useful for writers to learn something about poetry. I jot down ones that occur to me whenever they appear. I find if I harvest them that way they tend to keep growing back in new forms.
I love “That Hellbound Train” as a title. And “Vaster Than Empires and More Slow” is even better.
I think my favorite title of my own is “Scatter and Return, the Eyes of the Princess”. Partially because it took me a longer time and more work to come up with than any other title. I started off with something really boring like “The Princess and the Golem” and kept trying out different variations like “Heart of a Golem, Eyes of a Princess”.
I think both of my published book titles: “Discarded Faces” (dystopian sci-fi) and “Mistress of the Topaz” (epic fantasy based on Middle Eastern culture) are good titles. I thought long and hard about them, especially the first.
My favorite title of a short story that I’ve written is “The Ruin Of Avalon” because it’s not only evocative, but as you read the story you realize that the title has at least three equally valid meanings…
Andre Norton’s “The Stars Are Ours” seized my imagination when I was a kid. For my own titles, I’d say “A Kiss For Damocles” (WiP) is my favorite.
There Will Come a Hard Rain by Ray Bradbury, and a title by Harlan Ellison I wish I could use as the final line in one of my own stories, I Have No Mouth but I Must Scream.
Also, a story I sold in 2000 to Dark regions: “A Gift for the Chosen” was not the first choice. The original was “Shades ad Shadows”. The editor suggested I try others. That was about the fifth effort.