The Silent Women

Choosing and Changing the Title for Your Novel

Flying home into Newcastle, I was struck by the beauty of this northerly place. Not so much by its hills and wilderness, but by its lower, flatter, reaches, a place of muted colours and gauzy skies, a palette of green with hints of blue, lush and thick with vegetation. In just a week my garden has flourished and is teeming with life, tulips spill from their pots and the first flowers have opened on a newly planted magnolia. From my study window the world is all leaf.

And yet I confess, I miss the intense light of the southern sun, the way it bounces and glitters off the sea. I miss its sharp, bold lineation, its deep shadows and vibrant colours. It is, not surprisingly, a light that seduced many painters. It seduces me every time I'm in the Mediterranean and not just for its effect on form and colour. It is not all about the way things look.

While I was away, I wrote to a friend saying how healing I thought the light in Mallorca was. It is harder, though of course not impossible, to be melancholy when sat in a white light at the edge of a blue, blue sea, in the warmth of the sun. There is an ease in sitting and watching the world go by as you drink good coffee under a wide, white umbrella. There is a sense of refreshment and renewal. Who can forget Shirley Valentine perched at the edge of the Aegean? Such making-over, if you are lucky enough to get there, is the true seduction of the Mediterranean.

My son and granddaughter watching the world go by...

Somerset Maughan said for him, as for Hemingway, Spain was a healing country. Henry James called the effect of Italy, an 'excess of serenity.' The painter and critic Roger Fry, on escaping to Cassis on the Côte d’Azur, wrote, 'I know quite well, whenever I get to this Mediterranean country that I ought never to leave it. It all seems just right, the right kind of colours and shapes everywhere.'

Perhaps it was inevitable that I would find myself wondering what effect living in the Mediterranean could have on my writing, especially at a time when I don’t have a work in progress to think about. What could living this easy seductive, warm life bring to the page? Would I even want to write? Would I want instead to spend weeks gazing out to sea, just being, just breathing. Well, sadly I wasn’t there long enough to find out.

For me, coming back means getting stuck into the process of preparing my novel for publication. Alongside this I am allowing myself some time to adjust to a new title! It’s taking a while, after all I’ve lived with the original title for well over a year, probably more like two, but I’m getting there. If you read my last newsletter you will know that I have, very late in the day, changed the title of my forthcoming novel. How you might ask, could that happen?

Firstly, what of titles? They usually arrive fairly easily for me. Early on in the writing, something–a phrase, a name etc–suggests itself as a title. Sometimes more than one thing suggests itself. I jot the various ideas down in my notebook. I cover pages with different versions of these titles, and usually there's one that wins out. This becomes the title of my work in progress, and to date, I have never deviated from my working title. So changing the title at this very late juncture is something new for me, although I gather it is not uncommon for writers, particularly those working in the more commercial environment of the big publishers where the marketing departments are often ruthless about demanding such changes.

A writer has her own ideas about her book, and her own special knowledge. She knows its origins and gestation, thus often the title she chooses makes perfect sense to her. In my case, A Little Madness in the Spring, which is taken from an Emily Dickinson poem was just such a title that I'd seized on and stuck with. But here’s the thing, titles are open to a host of interpretations and what has recently been conveyed to me is that this title conjures, or at least can conjure up, a skittish, frivolous romance. This couldn’t be further from the truth of a novel about women incarcerated against their will in an Asylum in 1875. As soon as it was pointed out to me, I got it. I saw that such a title could easily conjure a light-hearted novel with romance at its core. I reconsidered, although I was under no pressure to do so. My editor, being a writer herself, says she does not like to interfere with writers and their titles. But she is pleased with this change of heart.

On reflection, I see that the title I chose was unnecessarily obscure and obscurity is never a good thing in writing, because in obscurity lies a lack of thought and respect, for one's reader.

If you Google 'how to choose a title for your novel,' you will come up with any number of articles, offering top tips: 'Seven Tips to Land the Perfect Title for Your Novel, ' 'How to Title a Book, Thirteen Steps to Choosing a Title That Sells,' are just two examples. My advice as far as these are concerned is don’t bother. Or if you must, take a quick look but with a pinch of salt. Good writing should never be reduced in this way. In the first instance if you have a title that seems right to you then go with it and stick with it, but equally, do not be wedded to it. Stay open to other suggestions especially when they come from your editor or other first readers whose opinions you respect.

So, in the spirit of my own advice, I've ditched my earlier title. My novel is now called, The Silent Women. I won’t pretend it was an easy decision but I felt sure it was right. It’s a simple and straightforward title, and it works with the novel. For these are women who have been silenced by their incarceration. They are women who cannot, or choose not to, speak freely. I know from my experience of working with women who are locked away from the world, that not only do their voices go unheard, but that often to survive they turn to an internal and hidden life where so much remains unspoken. Women in prison will tell you that their jailers can take away their freedom, but not their thoughts. Not the silent life of the mind.

I am really grateful to the reviewers who have suggested this change and for the generosity of their reviews. I also want to give a special shout out to my friend, author Gillian Wales and to my partner John who have scoured my manuscript for the small typos and errors that I and my editor could no longer see. I will be busy this week entering changes.

Other things which may be of interest–

1. If you are a writer with work to submit you may like to join this:

On May 31st I will be taking part in an online discussion -

Have you written a book and are unsure about how to get it published? Do you want to learn more about the various routes to publication, from pursuing traditional big publishers to small presses and self-publishing?

Join Linen Press on May 31st 7-8pm for an open and honest discussion on:

• the panelists' experiences–good and not so good–of getting their books published.

• the advantages and disadvantages of different routes to publication.

• the pros and cons of the Big Ps, small indie presses and self-publishing.

• the influence of marketing on the industry.

The talk will be followed by an audience Q&A, but we welcome questions in advance. Please submit them to: kate.williams@linen-press.com

Book your free place HERE

2. If you are someone who wants to write, but as yet hasn’t taken the leap, who still needs to give themselves permission, I recommend this week’s, Notes from the Margin by Wendy Pratt

3. Also Tanya Shadrick’s The Cure for Sleep
   

4. Last but never least, to reading. I didn’t get much reading done on holiday. I was too busy looking after toddlers. But I’d love to know what you’re reading currently. Any recommendations are very welcome…

Thanks for reading - love Avril x