What's In A Name?

When I wrote my first book, MIND PLAY, I started more trouble than expected. I used the first names of family and friends for each of my characters. That wasn’t the bad part. That wasn’t where the problem started.

The problem, you see, came when I informed people of what I’d done.

Unless you are James Patterson (who has ten million books released every year – that he does not write), you cannot write books fast enough to use the names of all your family and friends. Look at my name. Tomasso. Know what that is? Know what that means? Italian. Ever see a small Italian family? I’ve got more aunts and uncles and cousins than Stephen King has fans. See what I’m saying, eh-oh, oh-eh.

Anyway. I try to do my best. I try to incorporate the first names of as many people as I can. The thing is, sometimes, those just aren’t the names I want for my characters. Believe it or not, I put thought into the characters. And they become real to me. I look up the meanings of names. I picture what they look like in my mind. And if they don’t look they’d be named “Jane Doe” because my Aunt Jane Doe is on my butt about using her name, then I can’t in good conscience name that character “Jane Doe.” It won’t work for me. It would shatter the person/character I’d created.

My Uncle Bill used to come to every book signing I had in Rochester. And at each new book signing he’d ask me when I was going to use his name. Finally, I’d sold the manuscript of a novel where I’d used his name, his full first Italian name – Abello (“Bill”). His character was a Mafia Don in the story.

When Uncle Bill got up to the front of the line, he handed me a copy of my book to sign for him. And, of course, he asked, “So, when are you going to use my name in a book?”

So I told him about being a Mafia Don.

You saw it in his face. He was excited. He asked me, “What’s the name of the book?”

I said, “Pigeon Drop.”

He grimaced. “What’s that? That’s crap.”

To this day, I am not sure if he was seriously mad, or just being funny. We Tomassos’ have an odd, peculiar, sense of humor.

My first book was released in 2000. My ninth, Sounds of Silence, will be released later this year – and you know what? I still have not used all the names of family and friends as characters in the stories written.
At work tonight, 2013 – it’s no different. Only, my friends are more aggressive about what they want. Crystal wants me to use her name. Not her last name. Her first name, and … get this – to make the entire novel about her. (You may not realize it – but it was Crystal’s inspiration that inspired my last blog, First Dates & Red Robin Yummm … ).

My point?

There isn’t one. (Is there ever with me?) Except, maybe … be patient. If I can use your name, I will. Promise.

More times than not, I am using your personality. You just may not be smart enough to recognize it’s you you are reading about.

Bada-bing!

Take care,

Phillip Tomasso

PS … Check out my new website:

http://www.philliptomasso.com/
(Still under construction)

Pulse of Evil Book Trailer

Pulse of Evil For Sale

Other titles for sale for Kindle

Other titles for sale for Nook

The Molech Prophecy for sale on Nook/Paperback -- writing as Thomas Phillips

PULSE OF EVIL (Teaser)

Pulse of Evil (PROLOGUE)

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.” The dark confines of the confessional room felt like a coffin.

“And how long has it been since your last confession?” the priest asked, his features and voice obscured behind a mesh screen.

“Years? I don’t know. Since high school,” I said.

Silence. My hands wrestled with each other in my lap. I shivered, suddenly cold. Squeezing my eyes shut did nothing to ease the pain that throbbed inside my skull.

“What are your confessions?” he asked. The monotone voice masked boredom or interest. Such a simple question. If I wanted forgiveness,redemption, salvation all I had to do was list the things I’d done wrong since my last confession.

More silence.

This time, it was up to me to break it. I brushed one hand though my hair, and pushed my bangs to the side so I could see. Seemed pointless. There was no light, just the smell of wood polish and the sound of the priest breathing evenly on the opposite side of the wall that separated us.

“This isn’t easy,” I said. My bottom lip rolled into my mouth. I bit down.

“Admitting sins committed rarely is.”

It felt like my heart had left my chest and was now fighting for space alongside my brain—beating, beating, beating. I dropped my elbows to my knees as I bent forward, my hands clasped together, extended out in front of me. “Father,” I said, or thought, I can’t be sure.The silence that surrounded me, seemed to pulse—throb—in my ears, in counterpoint with the beating of my heart. The tempo wracking its way through the inside of my head was draining and intensified. “Father, I witnessed a murder. Two. And I did nothing to help,” I said.

I wasn’t ready for tears. It seemed I had no choice. As they fell, I allowed them, refusing to wipethem away. “I didn’t try to stop it. I didn’t call the police. I didn’t do a thing!”

Did I hear the priest suck in air?

This had to be sodifferent from what he was used to hearing people confess. Bad words. Bad thoughts. Not informing a clerk you’d received back too much change at the check out.

“How far away from the murders were you?”

In the middle of them. “Close. Too close.”

“Does anyone else know that you witnessed these murders?”

“The killers. They know I was there.”

PULSE OF EVIL

Phillip Tomasso

Wings ePress Books

http://www.wings-press.com

Copyright © 2012 by Phillip Tomasso III

ISBN 978-1-61309-084-8

AUGUST 2012

--Be sure to check out my previous novels available for KINDLE!