Thursday, July 22: Femme Fatale
IN SEARCH OF A PERFECT NAME
by Deborah Elliott-Upton
One thing about being a mystery writer is nothing is a chance encounter. Anything could lead to a crime and most important, people are most interesting when they don’t realize I’m a writer who is taking mental notes for future reference. I don’t write a character from any one person I know, but many people say they “see” themselves in my stories. I usually smile and that makes them think they are correct. They aren’t. Characters grow out of nuances that settle in my mind just waiting for an idea to fester into a story. Today I found another one loitering for too long that required a story to be written about her.
She isn’t a composition of any two people I could name, but composed like Frankenstein, bits and pieces pulled from many encounters made within my life span. She has the shyness of the supermarket clerk who was obviously told by a manager to push a special on the $1 soft drink plus a candy bar. Her spiel was practiced, but she couldn’t make eye contact. I didn’t feel her heart was in the campaign, though keeping her job may have been.
She is the woman at the motor vehicle department who is tired from waiting in line only to be told she needs to move to another even longer one and meekly does as told.
She is fed up with people taking advantage of her and is surprised as anyone when she snaps in an inappropriate manner in an inappropriate way with someone who has done nothing but treat her with unexpected kindness.
She’s been known to take scraps and never complain though she wants more.
She gave away the only new coat she’s ever owned simply because she felt someone else might need it more at the mission.
She keeps secrets from everyone, but confesses to a blind woman who panhandles at the corner.
Those who think they know her believe her to be someone she isn’t and will be shocked at the headlines in tomorrow’s paper.
She has finally found a hobby that makes her happy, but comes at a price she isn’t prepared to pay.
She’s buried one man in her backyard too many, but no one knows that yet, especially not the rookie police detective with a chip on his shoulder coming up her walk.
She is no one and everyone. She lives near all of us, yet apart. She is evil touched with kindness.
I haven’t given her a name yet. Nothing seems to fit. It’s like the new mother who’s picked out the perfect name for her child then finds when she first holds her: this isn’t the right name at all. I need something perfect just for her.
I love this! I find picking names such a challenge! For really complex characters like yours, I have a “go-to” name that starts my process: Elizabeth. It has so many nick-names or forms that have such definite traits. Ellie-the girl next door. Elle- the young fashionista. Liz- the busy mom. Liza- the quirky friend. Lizzy- the not-quite-right neighbor. Eliza- the school teacher. Beth- the daughter. Bess- the dear aunt. Betsy- the confidant. Bitsy- the junior-league-er. Lizbeth- the femme fatale. Once I pick out the one (or two) that fits, I find similar names and try them out loud.
But you have a super-challenge; your character seems to encompass all of these traits somewhere in her damaged psyche. As I read her again, one name tugs at my brain. I feel a deep Charlotte vibe from her.
Good hunting! I look forward to the read!
I know you will find that right name!! People never ask me if that’s ‘them’ in my stories, they always ask if it’s me!! Sort of a compliment since I never see any of me in the characters I write…..
Well, I want to read the story, that’s for sure.
Off topic, but for some reason your litany of her characteristics reminded me of the scene in Robert Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land when JUbal Harshaw is describing the Rodin statue “Fallen Caryatid Carrying Her Stone”
“She didn’t give up, Ben; she’s still trying to lift that stone after it has crushed her. She’s a father going down to a dull office job while cancer is painfully eating away his insides, so as to bring home one more pay check for the kids. She’s a twelve-year old girl trying to mother her baby brothers and sisters because Mama had to go to Heaven. She’s a switchboard operator sticking to her job while smoke is choking her and the fire is cutting off her escape. She’s all the unsung heroes who couldn’t quite cut it but never quit.”
Ah, yes. The Harshaw Redemption. All right, that excerpt is nice, but I still hated the book.
Assigning names to characters is usually just about the last thing I do (except for series characters, obviously). I write using placeholder names until I think of what each character should actually be called, what fits, and that doesn’t usually happen until the story is almost finished.
I too plug in the names at the last minute. Up until the point when the story’s finished or almost finished, my characters’ names are placeholders like A and B and C, etc. One of these days I’m probably going to forget to substitute a real name, and the cops will be hauling B in for committing the murders.
Brrrr! I feel the suspense! And I thought this was going to be a lighthearted speil about naming characters….
“I didn’t feel her heart was in the campaign, though keeping her job may have been.”
Thank you! That’s the best dangling clause I’ve read all year.
Contemporary mysteries usually take place in a short time span. Dick Francis’ Twice Shy comes to mind as one that uses two short time spans widely separated. I’m nothing like well read in pre-Sherlockiana, but both Wilkie Collins’ The Moonstone and Edgar Wallace’s The Clue Of The Twisted Candle take over a year to run.