I have a book manuscript due at the end of December. My very first book. Yippee!

But, there’s a problem. It’s untitled.

I’ve come up with a list of possible titles. I’ve mailed the list out to friends and family, and have compiled votes. I’ve fretted over the results. I’ve ignored them. I’ve pondered them. I’ve felt happy with them. I have wept over them.

What should I do?

Mind you this is a book of poetry. So the title should be a little bit artsy-fartsy, maybe a little pretentious, maybe a bit enigmatic, maybe a bit self-referential, maybe a bit ironic. Right?

Here are the results.

  1. Awake In The Night Room (4 votes)
  2. I Whisper, In a Dark Suit (4 votes)
  3. The Velvet Body (and other Subjects) (2 votes)
  4. It Cannot Walk, But Aspires To (1 vote)
  5. Like Nothing At All, Like Air (1 vote)
  6. No Light To Make Brighter (1/2 vote)
  7. We Learned This and Walked (1/2 vote)
  8. A Tree For You (No votes–one voter called it “saccharine”)

I mean, yuck, right? They all kind of suck.

So I guess I’m kind of like a dictator, who holds an election, then takes over the military and declares it invalid. but it’s my country, my poetic land. So there.

The other night I went to the Pen & Podium lecture with Clarie Messud. She said that she had major troubles titling her first book. Originally it was called When the World Was Steady. (What’s so bad about that?) Her editor told her that it was a crummy title, so she came up with twelve others, and sent them to him. He said they each of the 12 was worse than the original. So out it went, as is.

Her words helped, and I walked out of the theatre very happy.

But then I got into the car and realized that I never had an original (bad) title to go back to.

Sigh.

So whatsitsname gonna be?

Easy. No Stranger Than My Own.

–MJH