The Creative Power of a Name

A well-chosen character's name can shape our expectations for that person's story, often in subtle ways.

For example, I’m developing a story set in the Great Depression. Its protagonist is a young single woman who wants to leave her hometown in Appalachia to find a new life in “the big city” of Charlotte. I’ve given her the name Ruth Saylor. As Ruth’s story unfolds, we learn that she grew up in a devout Christian family and has a reputation for loyalty. Her plans are interrupted by the death of close family members, but she perseveres in faith. She eventually finds fulfillment and joy in a place she doesn't expect.

If a reader is familiar with the biblical story of Ruth, these features of the new Ruth’s story will seem very natural. And if not, her name nonetheless telegraphs that she is an intrepid young woman seeking a foreign land (saylor=sailor). In either case, her name helps to tell her story.

Theatrical agents understand this dynamic, so they often give an evocative stage name to a rising star. Audiences probably would have expected to see a matronly lady introduced by the name of Ethel Gumm, but her new name of Judy Garland suggested wholesome youthfulness and superlative talent. A young man introduced as Benjamin Kubelsky might have seemed a tad pretentious. But when he used the name Jack Benny, no one took him too seriously, like the stand-up comedian he was.

An evocative name can imply a person’s character. Perhaps it has an onomatopoeic quality (e.g., the echo of laughter in “Benny” or the corroded hinge of “Scrooge”). Or it may hint at a character’s motivation (e.g., a “Saylor’s” yearning to explore distant lands). However, I don't recommend using a name that literally denotes a character’s role in the story (e.g., John Bunyan’s “Christian” in Pilgrim’s Progress). While that technique was common in allegories, allegorical narratives have few readers in the twenty-first century. 

Occasionally, a character's name may even suggest a plot for that person's story. As I was shaving a few days ago, the name Sam McKittrick came to mind. I had not been trying to name a character, it was not the name of someone from my past, and a quick Google search did not identify any well-known person whose name that I may have collected subconsciously. So I turned it over in my mind, rolled it around my tongue, and spoke it aloud a few times. I liked the sound of it, so I made a mental note and went on with my business.

Since then, I’ve caught glimpses of a fellow who might be Sam McKittrick. He’s in his sixties with a balding head and impish grin. He wears a tweed jacket that smells of cherry-infused pipe tobacco. He isn’t ready to talk with me yet, but I won’t impose any contrived character qualities to hurry him along. Sam knows he has a sympathetic listener here, so in due time, he will speak. Then we’ll see what sort of story he may have to tell.

"What's in a name?" Shakespeare famously said. "That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.” True. But it would change our perception of the flower, wouldn't it?