How to Choose a Book Title: Lessons From Naming Men I Have Known
I have a title idea. I hope you like it…
Scrap that. I have it now.
Okay, it’s between these three …
I have it, I have it. This is the final.
Please ignore my last mail…
My poor publisher. My new book, my first work of non-fiction, had no definitive title yet. A working title, yes. The manuscript was being edited, a cover was being mocked up. But no agreement had yet been reached on the title.
I couldn’t rest, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Titles and subtitles roiled in my head while I swam, and ate, and (half) listened to other people … and, definitely while I ought to have been sleeping. It woke me in the early hours, jerking me upright to scrabble for pens in my bedside drawer.
I know about titles. I know they can be dealbreakers. They really, really matter.
A title can be a magnet, irresistibly sucking you into a book’s forcefield. Or, turn that magnet around and see what happens. It can shove you away and spin you away to another shelf.
Or, to try another metaphor, a title is like body language. At a glance, you can tell you whether this is a book you could commit to and settle down with. Whether it’s a volume you’ll leave on your central table or hide in your bedside drawer. You’ll have a strong sense of its likelihood of being clever, or funny, or the type of genre you’ll enjoy.
I saw this in action with my first book. Its working title on my computer was Farmbook. Not much help there. Flipping through the manuscript, my eye lighted on a passage – and an idea flashed before me.
It’s just that now, knowing what happened, it seems that the violence didn’t just collide with my world in one gigantic crash. From the moment we arrived, it slithered insidiously into the joy of the prosaic everyday, into the innocence of roast chicken, and the happiness of baby chicks.
On my pre-publishing trip to London (that’s how things worked in those days), I was introduced to my editor and the team of publicists at Headline Review. ‘I think,’ my editor informed me sagely, ‘that we must call the book Country of my heart…’
I turned away to hide my gag reflex. I could have complied. They intimidated me and … what did I know, anyway?
‘Actually, I was thinking of The Innocence of Roast Chicken …’
‘Oh no…’ She swallowed a scoff. ‘I really don’t think…’
‘But that’s a brilliant title,’ the head publicist cut in. ‘We can work with that.’
And so it came to pass. It was a very successful title. Would the book have done as well as Country of my Heart? No, of course it wouldn’t.
So, back to the current book. It’s non-fiction, which means it can carry a main title and a subtitle, which is both a luxury and a burden. The main title hooks and teases. The subtitle must do the heavy lifting: it tells you what the book is really about, without giving too much away, without lecturing, without frightening you off.
Everyone loved my working title. When I used it, people smiled and simultaneously raised their eyebrows.
Men I have known
It’s cheeky and arch. Probably gives you a ‘Say, what?’ moment. And, indeed, that is what the book is about. But it’s much more than that.
It’s a (hopefully, nuanced) exploration of how men and women interact: what’s changed across sixty years and what stubbornly refuses to budge. It uses my life, yes, since I made the risky, possibly stupid decision to use myself as a case study. But it’s not a memoir, and certainly not a memoir of peccadillos. It has much bigger fish to fry.
We wrestled with it for weeks. My publisher’s inbox can attest to that. In the end, we found it. I think it’s just right. I hope it suggests to you all kinds of possibilities:
Men I Have Known: On love, power and everything in between
Publication: April 2027, through Jonathan Ball Publishers. There’s plenty more to come between now and then — I’ll spare my publisher’s inbox and share it here first.
Jo-Anne
As always, I’m here to discuss your writing and how we can help you. Simply fill in the contact form and let me know what you are working on, and what kind of help you need.
Happy writing
Jo-Anne
P.S. Wondering about the creatures in my underwater pics, click here to find out more.
