It's naming cats and dogs.

Some authors I read name their characters so well. Consider Michael Connelly’s protagonist, Heronymous “Harry” Bosch; Lescroart’s, Dismas Hardy. The back story on these two and the life their creators breathe into them make them unforgettable.
Reading these two authors gives me second thoughts about the naming of my own characters. My technique of pulling names out of the air isn't getting it done. My books are unpublished. All I have to do is fire up the old word processor and slip the new name in--right? A funny thing. You’ve heard writers speak of growing attached to their characters. That is me. I can’t picture them with another name. To really upgrade, even if I could miraculously come up with a name comparable to the two above, would require more than a cut and paste. Knock on my wooden head--a little forethought, planning wouldn't hurt.
To this point, I’ve named them with little more thought than I would give to naming a cat. Yes, all the cliches about cats apply: distant, haughty, churlish. Who can be blamed for calling a cat "hey you." None of this (hand on Bible) applies to wife’s cat. For a book, wouldn't it have been better to name them the way I would a dog. Dogs are worthy of all the time and consideration one would spend naming a prince. They are fun, loyal, loving, predictable. . Wait a second . . . do I want characters that are loyal and predictable? Humm. I’m going to play with the cat.

This is the first toe I have dipped into the baptismal waters of blogging, my first post. This blog will be about writing--or the lack thereof. I hope posting will keep my interest in other writing up, keep me pecking away at my rewrite and the new book I'm working on. There are so many distractions: TV, the internet, my lawn, my stupid job. Of course, anyone who wishes to write should throw a rock through their television. It is such an insidious drug. I entered a short story of mine, a mystery, in a writing contest. One of the three reviewers said it sounded like an episode of a television show, one I have never seen, not even one episode. Go figure. My lawn . . . eh, do I really care? Oh yes my job, I am not married to it, but I can't divorce it. I'm hoping this blog marks the start of a successful run, a run of completing manuscripts, submitting, and acceptance. I'm staring the 4th of July weekend in the face. With a little luck, I'll wake up Tuesday with all my fingers, my eyesight, ears that work and do not ring--oh, and twenty proof-read pages. j.d.