I’ve been thinking recently about titles. Specifically, the titles that writers give short stories.

I’m embarrassed to admit that for a long time I didn’t give that much thought to titles for the stories I write. Sometimes a title springs fully-formed into mind before a story is even written - but equally often a half-written story ends up saved in a file named after a character (or an object!) in the story, and eventually that accidentally becomes the title. I mean, titles aren’t that important, right? It’s the story that counts.

Now, if you are - say - Neil Gaiman, with a vast and enthusiastic following who will leap on a new story with delight regardless of title, you can probably get away with calling your latest work any old bollocks (or, of course, Any Old Bollocks). Spoilers: I am not Neil Gaiman. My enthusiastic following is largely limited to my parents and a couple of friends. (Also, arguably, even Neil Gaiman didn’t get where he is today by publishing stories with crap titles.)

If you publish a novel then you’ve got a title, a nice illustrated jacket, and probably a cover blurb to lure people in. If you’re very lucky, bookshops will pile your novel temptingly on tables, include it in multi-buy offers or (bless every last shop that does this) post up little handwritten notes from the staff explaining why it is awesome. A short story is much more likely to appear on a website, where casual browsers have nothing but a list of titles to choose from. So the title had better get its paw in the air and yell “pick me!”

My story Granny’s Cooking was turned down a number of times before I began to wonder whether, perhaps, its title was a bit boring. It eventually appeared in print as Cook Me A Storm. Would the magazine have taken it, regardless? I’ll likely never know, but I like to think the title-change gave it a hand up.

The most intriguing title I’ve seen recently was in an an issue of Cossmass Infinities. Browsing down the contents page, I immediately clicked on Murder or a Duck by Beth Goder. What situation could possibly result in that particular choice? I wanted to know. Then I became suspicious.

Calling your story Murder or a Duck makes an implicit promise: there is going to be some sort of dilemma, dichotomy or question of identity revolving around murder (or a duck). Your fiction had better make good on that promise. Coming up with an intriguing title is easy; coming up with an intriguing title which suits the actual story and does not leave the reader feeling cheated is quite another.

(Murder or a Duck, by the way, was delightfully silly and delivered handsomely on the promise. I recommend it.)

Intrigue isn’t the only option. I’m also strangely fond of titles which tell you (in a sense) exactly what you’re getting - for example Ten Excerpts from an Annotated Bibliography on the Cannibal Women of Ratnabar Island or The Tale of the Three Beautiful Raptor Sisters, and the Prince Who Was Made of Meat. And of titles that appear to ramble on long after they ought to have stopped, like Once More Unto the Breach (But Don’t Worry, the Inflatable Swords Are Latex-Free). And titles that include fun pop culture references, like Open House on Haunted Hill…

It’s fair to say that titles are capricious beasts, and that there’s no smart formula for coming up with them. They are, however, something that I’m going to give a lot more thought to in the future.

Next time you see me advertising a story on Twitter, let me know if I got it right!