Terry Pratchett taught me that names have power. In doing so, he put me right off a lot of fantasy.

Specifically, high or epic fantasy.

Because I can’t stand the names.

You know, like K’rniluf the Doomswerver.

If I’m reading a book with a name like that, I’ll look at it once and never read it again. I’ll just skim it, relying on the shape of the word to get me through.

Part of it is laziness.

How do you pronounce K’rniluf? And why do I have to work it out, when the author couldn’t be bothered?

(I would guess it’s pronounced “Korny-love”, but could be wrong.)

And although the author must have thought it looked cool, it’s just a muffled wet sneeze to me.

But the main reason I dislike those names is the lack of history in it.

Every Smith you meet is (at least historically) descended from an actual smith.

The same for Carters, and Wrights and Baileys, and so on.

One occupation sadly missing from the list is Taxi-dancer.

These weren’t people who danced in – or with – taxis.

They were mostly women who charged per song when men wanted to dance with them.

Big at the beginning of the twentieth century, when they emerged around San Francisco’s Terrific Street (and isn’t that a terrific name), there aren’t many now.

So you’re as likely to meet a John Taxi-dancer as a Billy the Doomswerver.

The point being, I feel strongly about getting names right, and put a lot of effort into finding the right ones for my characters. Names are descriptions.

Take the Reverend Gresstart, for example. I spent ages looking for the right combination of syllables. The petulant, sniffy “Gress-“ and the fussy, old-fashioned “-tart.” Together hinting at a previously well-to-do family, now somewhat come down in the world.

That’s what I think, anyway.

Make up your own mind by reading The Squared Circle here now.

Chat soon,

Morgan

P.S. More Morgan? Get 2 of my books free here: morgandelaney.info/newsletter