Some writers are natural titlers. I am not one of them. Whenever I see a clever title I am filled with admiration and envy. I mean, The Grapes of Wrath? Damn, that’s good. And how about To Kill a Mockingbird? Or “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock“? I could go on all day with the excellent titles. Poetry books often have the best titles of all. Some favorites off the top of my head: American Fractal, Human Dark with Sugar, A Change of Maps, Hallelujah Blackout… Memoir titles tend to not be quite as good, simply because they have to make sense to the book buyer instead of just being a creative flight of fancy. But there are still some good ones out there (and Going Rogue is not one of them.)

So I’ve been thinking about my memoir title. It’s not a humorous memoir (not yet, anyway–I will admit, I did consider this morning while blow-drying my hair that I could, if I really wanted to, turn it into a humorous memoir instead of a dramatic/traumatic one pretty easily. And my family might still speak to me afterward–at least the side that’s still speaking to me now. Heh. And I find humor very easy to write. But I digress.) So because it’s not (yet) humorous, the title is even harder. Do you realize how easy it is to title a serious/dramatic/traumatic memoir something very overwrought and melodramatic and sentimental and corny? As easy as stepping in poo at a dog park.

This morning I went to the chiropractor. My chiropractor is very cool and fun, plus he never fails to fix my gym-related, high-heel-shoe-wearing-related, and accident-prone-related injuries. This morning we were talking about my day ahead of memoir-writing (if he could see how I sit when I’m writing, I think he’d probably run out and buy a sports car, because my bad posture is definitely going to keep him in the lettuce for awhile longer) and he started suggesting titles. He came up with The Lady and the Shoes, which I thought didn’t suck. It’s almost Chaucer-ish, if you squint. Except my book is a childhood memoir and at that age I wasn’t yet a shoe whore. Or a lady, for that matter. (And I’m still not! Har.) As he left the room so I could lie there face down on his table thingie with electrode doohickeys hooked up to my sore back, he said, “Ponder on that for awhile and I’ll be back.”

Ponder, I did. I mean, it’s not like I could do anything else while I was lying there, right? So I started thinking about what my title would need to accomplish. It would need to be serious, or at least, not flippant. It could indicate the fact that it’s about a girl. Ideally, it would reflect my theme (see previous post), pique the curiosity of Joe or Jane Reader who is strolling around Barnes & Noble looking for something to read, and not be named the same thing as any other book. And then I thought of it! I thought of a title that I think accomplishes all of the above and is also a twist on a familiar phrase. AND, to my surprise, nobody else has named their book thusly, at least not that’s available on Amazon*. Success! Needless to say, I’m exceedingly pleased with myself.  And I apologize for not telling you the title just yet, but I’m a little worried it’ll be swiped by someone. When I have a full draft, you, dear reader, will be the first to know. I promise.

* Oh crap. I just this second Googled further and found a book of poetry published by someone I’ve never heard of, in Edinburgh, in 1996, with the same title. Do you think that’s a deal-breaker? I’m thinking perhaps not.