name that character

Mitch? Rod? Morgan? Julian? Broc?

   So, in between obsessively checking Sandy reports (lots of family on East Coast), today I've been working on fleshing out an outline for a sequel to RAISING CHEER. I'm one of those writers who has to name my characters before I can even write the first sentence (or truly tap out a meaningful outline). Of course, I often search-and-replace the names in subsequent drafts, but I simply cannot lope my people through their various conundrums until I get initial purchase on names.

And before I can name them, I need to know what they look like.

Brady

In the old days, before stock photography, I used to sketch my characters, and make tab-festooned clothing for them. Sort of like those Betsy McCall paper dolls of yore. Thank God I don't have to do that anymore. I'm not much of a sketcher. Now I just pop on a site like this one, and peruse the offerings. It's sort of like porn for character development. You know, like, Hey boy, what're you wearing? You never know where it will lead...

Since the second RC book will have most of the same characters as the first one, the only real name challenge is a new character. A love interest. A swarthy fellow (the pic above is a guy a bit older than the character in my book, but same brand of attitude). The third party in a love triangle. The romantic foil.

Connor

The stoneresque boy pictured left is the hero, Connor, from book one (that's a soft spot I have, I guess-- a sort of scruffier Josh Hartnett type burnout with a heart of gold), and the young gal with the cell phone above is exactly who I envision my main character, Brady, to be.

So, top picks for naming the ass hat (as discussed on Facebook): Julian, Prescott, Marcel (Marc), Broc, Adam, Georgio, Shane.

What do think, oh fabulous writing community? What would you name my asshole?

sit your ass down and write season

   The rain has arrived. Like a reverse groundhog's proclamation, the serious pile up of storms on the Doppler radar has announced six more months of the same.

Not that I'm bitching.

In the 23 years I've lived in Portland, I can't remember such a fantastic lingering sun spell. No rain since the beginning of July. Tomatoes that rival New Jersey August-grown ones. Umbrellas clenched like fists. Car windows left open all night (shit, that reminds me...). Enough, already.

Fitting that weather would change with the onset of Wordstock. Rain is writing weather, after all. Gone is the stray, "let's go bang a couple balls around the court" notion. It's curl up in front of the fire with a stack of books. With your notes. With your big, big ideas for the next book.

It's here. Yes it is. Whatcha gonna write?