That’s how the mind works. Well, mine anyway. I gave up trying to figure out how it works a long time ago. But anyway… Upon completion of Perfect Ten (I’m not sure what the publication date will be yet on that, but I’ll keep you posted!) for the Summer volume of the Bowman’s Inn, I started on a new short story about a woman who is a shape-shifter. She shifts into a wolf. No biggie. She’s got a keeper too.
But I didn’t want to call him a keeper. It sounds so… demeaning or something, like she can’t take care of herself. And besides, that’s not fully what he does. He’s more like a… handler for the CIA or something. He kinda calls the shots. He has premonitions that tell them what’s going to happen. The biggest problem for him is deciphering the when and where and what’s going to happen clues. He foreshadows things that haven’t happened yet, and points her in the right direction. He’s something of a voice of reason for her.
Anyway, now that I’ve gone on for two paragraphs on nearly nothing, the point is, I named him Rafe as a place-holder, plannig on changing the name to something that will suit the character better. I had a look in mind. Dark, broody, borderline Goth. Maybe a little on the ganglier side than I normally write. Out of curiosity as to what Rafe means, and after I’d already gone through the find a feminine name meaning ‘wolf’ search, I checked into the meaning behind Rafe too. Wouldn’t you know, it means: wolf’s counsel.
Huh. Did I know that before? No. But I do now. And because it’s so perfectly him, I’m keeping it. Because that’s what I was supposed to name him. I’m convinced on this. And to think I just plucked it off a tree because it was the greenest apple I could reach. It’s quite amazing when things literally fall into place. Here’s hoping the rest of it goes this easy!