Something was bothering me about my work in progress (wip) but I couldn't put my finger on it.
And then one day last week - in bed at around 3.30am when I was having one of my numerous post-mid-life crises - it came to me.
I hated my hero's name.
About two years ago when I started thinking about the book, the first thing I did was name my characters. I called my hero Robbie. I don't know what I was thinking at the time. Maybe Robbie Williams was in rehab and in the news a lot. Maybe I felt the name had a romantic lilt to it, as in Scotland's favourite son, poet Robbie Burns.
I thought Robbie oozed sex appeal.
Now I'm past the 30,000 word count, the novelty has worn off and the name reminds me of a puppy that whizzes on the carpet or a whiny kid with a runny nose and grazed knees
I can hear his mother in the supermarket, screaming: "Robbie! How many times have I told you not to open the chip packet until we get to the checkout!"
He's the teacher's pet, a Mummy's boy, a dobber and a fibber.
With apologies to all the men in the universe called Robbie, I have dumped you.
This leaves me in a dilemma. I need a new name... a new man.
I have several ideas, but none of them ideal.
If you've got any ideas better than my partner Spanner's suggestions - Stanley, Manuel and Shaun (think 'of the dead') - drop me a line.