Julie quipped, “I wouldn’t title my book The Something.” Would you?
Good question. No. The Noun. The Descriptive Noun. The Person.
The best title surprises. Evokes.
Some of my preferred titles do not conform to rules, thus do not fit eligibility to be cited.
Insert [title] here. Does it pique you? Or pose issues with copyright?
Do you title it before or subsequently? Does the work grow into its vessel? Or does the vessel conform to its lumpen body?
I prefer to title it somewhere in the middle, when I get some sense of where it’s going yet with enough freedom to begin to string themes throughout.
Self-referencing titles? E.g. The Book. Get This Book. Novel. The Collection. Collected Works. Poetry. Composition. Storytime. Storyteller. Verse. Eponymous. Work of Genius. If you do not prefer these tricks, Why?
Tricks? Or overdone clichés? I’m opposed to them. Gee, there’s enough other weird & wonderful words, right? It’s not 1915. It’s not Zurich.
Onto titles which do not pronounce themselves. E.g. ( ) Sigur Rós (2002); ‽ John Peponis (2015); * Creg Dworkin (unverified); ¶ Jones (rendered Pilcrow, 2008); “!” The Dismemberment (1995); @ John Zorne & Thurston Moore (2013); & Julien Doré (2016); + Ed Sheer n (2011); /// Robert Piotrowicz (2006).
I think the Book Listings of the Congress doesn’t permit symbol titles. It might interfere with their query terms? Plus, my work isn’t so concept, so deconstructed.
Onto titles which invent words. Your first book’s title is invented. Would you like to reprise such smithing?
Yes to inventiveness. The peerless ZONG! by M. NourbeSe Philip. The intriguing Debths by S. Howe. Seismosis by John Keene. Here, I’ll invent some right now: Pinecome. Prespecious. Incessionology. Lovequism