Three Coffees, and a Thousand Titles

Barnes and Noble

I'd named my characters. I'd dressed them. I'd written 80,000 words.

But my novel still didn't have a title.

Coming up with a title became frustrating. I wrote down short titles, long titles, every kind of title I could think of. Nothing seemed right. Why was it so hard? I was making it too difficult.

I'd read my manuscript for the zillionth time, trying to find inspiration. Nothing came. So I decided to head to Barnes & Noble.

First Things First: Coffee

The sun was beaming on a perfect summer day. I drove to Barnes & Noble with one plan: find a title.

But first—coffee.

I walked in, ordered my first cup, and headed toward the fiction section.

Then I panicked.

Look at all those books. All those authors. All those genres. All those titles.

These authors were my competition.

I almost had a meltdown. Who was I to think I could be in the same league as these people, silly me? What did I know about being an author? Absolutely nothing!

I stood there, surrounded by thousands of published books, and thought: Who am I kidding? I should go home. Forget the whole thing.

But I didn't leave. I couldn't. Not yet.

I took a breath and walked to the "Top Ten Fiction" display.

I started reading titles. Some were clever. Some were short. Some were compelling. Some were intellectual.

I opened one of the novels and read the back cover blurb.

It became clear: Titles matter. They hook readers. They promise something.

And I didn't have one.

Second Cup of Coffee: The Non-Fiction Aisle

After my second cup of coffee, I wandered to the non-fiction aisle to see if those titles were as compelling as the fiction ones.

Yes. The authors used the same strategy. And more concise.

Now I went from panicked to terrified.

What am I going to do? I'm not even in the same league as these people.

I decided to start at the beginning of the store and work my way through. Read titles. Get inspired. See where it led me.

That's exactly what I did.

For the next three to four hours, I read titles. Bestsellers. Books on the discount table. Mysteries. Non-fiction. Science fiction. Every genre you could think of.

And instead of being afraid and petrified, I began to be inspired by how all these authors came up with their titles.

The Third Coffee

After buying my third cup of coffee, I sat down at the café and began thinking about my novel and the whole process.

I'd fulfilled one part of my dream: I'd written a novel.

But it didn't have a title. I had made corrections with my husband's help during our beach reading sessions. But now what?

I had a lot of work to do. But the title had to come first.

I thought about all the titles I'd written down—the lists of good ones and bad ones, the ones that didn't work. The title had to connect to the story.

I thought about my story: Grace, who witnessed a murder. Ann Marie, the woman Butch killed. The mystery of who Ann Marie was. Did anyone miss her? Why had Butch killed her? How did it all connect?

I looked at my watch. Four hours had passed.

I needed to get home.

The Parking Lot Moment

I tossed the empty cup, found my keys, and headed to the parking lot.

The sun felt warm on my face as I unlocked the door and sat down in the driver's seat.

And then I heard it:

The Departed Daughter.

Clear as day. Just like I'd heard "Grace."

Oh my gosh. I have to remember this. I have to write it down. I'll never remember it when I get home.

I quickly rummaged through my purse, grabbing an old receipt. But I didn't have a pen.

I had a lipstick pencil.

I scribbled on the back of the receipt: The Departed Daughter.

I had my title.

 Why It Fits

The Departed Daughter.

It captured everything.

Ann Marie—the woman who died in those woods—she was a departed daughter. She'd left her mother years ago, and her mother didn't know where she was.

And Grace—she was a departed daughter, too. Separated from her mother without even knowing Ann Marie was her mother. Not until the very end.

Two generations. Two daughters. Both departed. Both lost.

The title was perfect.

The Drive Home

Driving home, my demeanor changed. I felt inspired and hopeful for the first time in a long time.

I put the windows down and let the warm summer air fill the car. I couldn't wait to tell my husband about the title.

When I got home, I opened my laptop and typed the title on the first page of my manuscript:

THE DEPARTED DAUGHTER

For the first time since I'd typed "The End," my novel felt complete.

What I Learned (Again)

The same lesson I learned when I heard "Grace."

Stop trying so hard. The answer comes when you let go.

I spent four hours at Barnes & Noble reading a thousand titles, drinking three cups of coffee, and panicking that I'd never measure up to all those published authors.

And then I sat in my car, stopped trying, and heard it.

The Departed Daughter.

Sometimes you have to exhaust yourself searching before you can finally hear the answer that's been waiting all along.

Next month: What happened when my husband came home and said we were moving back to Michigan—and how I almost gave up on this novel before I'd even started writing it.

Until then, if you're struggling to find your title, take a walk. Or in my case, spend four hours at Barnes & Noble, drink three coffees, and sit in your car with a lipstick pencil and an old receipt.

The answer will come.

- Dianne