What's in a name?

I want to talk about titles. But first, an announcement.

Well, it's done. My new thriller. Sent to the publisher two days ahead of my February 1 deadline.

I'm relieved, happy and quite disoriented. My last push to get the manuscript ready meant total immersion this last couple weeks. Except for that pesky day job and a few completely necessary parties, I put everything else on hold -- answered no email, didn't update any web pages, returned only essential phone calls, even rescheduled some theater tickets!

I've been living in West Virginia in 1976 for so long that my day-to-day reality in present-day New York City seems less real to me than my setting and characters.

One of the events I did take time for was a dinner for the new national board of the MWA on which my husband Larry Light will be serving as Treasurer. I was sitting with one of my favorite authors of all time and one of my favorite people, Lee Child. I told him that I was racing a deadline and was worried about making it. He asked my current word count and my target, did a quick calculation, then told me not to worry. "You'll make it," he said confidently.

And if Lee Child thinks you can do it, by god you can!

But at a hotel bar for drinks later that evening, we were sitting with a bunch of authors talking about books, our own and others. I told them I was nearly finished with my manuscript. Then they wanted to know the title...

Here's the deal. The new novel was based on a short story I published in EQMM in December 2006. I had turned in the story under the title, "Murder at the Ass End of Nowhere." The 'ass end of nowhere' being a phrase used frequently to describe the small town I grew up in, or, if you were in the town, the rural parts of the county that were even, if possible, more remote.

Now, Ellery Queen doesn't do ass, so the story was published under the title, "Murder at the Butt End of Nowhere," which is, in my mind, a little less punchy and a little less vernacular, but still ok. I was just happy to see it in print.

But as I expanded the story and wrote the novel, the issue of what to call it was always on my mind. Should I go back to my original title? Or find something new?

I explained my predicament to a bar full of more-or-less inebriated authors -- with dozens of thrillers, traditional mysteries, cozies, humorous who-done-its and noir titles among them.

One cute but pushy gent insisted that "Ass End of Nowhere" was the bomb. He was like Beavis and Butthead -- "She said 'ass' -- heh, heh, heh, heh."

A small, less vocal contingent rooted for butt. "Butt End of Nowhere" was bruted about.

A mild-mannered woman said no to ass, but liked my next suggestion, which was "I Shot the Sheriff" -- a song title which figures in the plot.

The merits of using the Bob Marley/Eric Clapton classic as a book title were hotly debated.

There was no clear victor. But I loved the debate and the ideas.

Last weekend as I was putting the final touches on the draft, I found myself adding a new first chapter -- sort of a prologue. It's brief but gutsy. It really takes the whole thing up a notch. And the first words of that chapter suddenly seemed to me to be perfect as the title.

"It Started With Sex."

Look for it at a bookstore near you -- in about a year. If the publisher likes it.

Wish me luck.