Some writers start with a title or a theme and expand upon, or explain, or trace the process that led to the title. Other writers craft the piece, or even an entire book, before deliberating for hours or days or weeks on the choice of a perfect title.

Many writers do both, only to have an editor or publisher change the title to something that doesn’t necessarily reflect the theme of the piece, but is a catchy word or phrase designed to “catch” a reader and prompt him to buy.

Here’s an example: The leader of a writers critique group to which I belonged a few years ago had written a harrowing yet amusing tale of a World War II German soldier on leave who was the unwitting object of a friend’s prank. He was locked, while drunk, in the upper berth of a passenger train that ended up in Spain, where he did not speak the language and he looked exactly like a local thief who was being hunted by the police. This led to a long series of events…some frightening, some amusing, some even romantic. The working title, and one which the group found delightful, was “Poor Unlucky Werner.” The publisher of the book changed the title to “Stephan’s Journey.” Go figure.

As a writer, I always start with the title, and that is often the result of a pun or play-on-words, or a borrowing of a cliché or a familiar quotation. In my mind, the title reflects what I’ll be writing about, but often in an amusing, somewhat twisted, way. For instance, the title of this blog is a takeoff of the Biblical scripture, “Love Thy Neighbor.” I wanted to write a piece that would showcase my unique and complicated relationship with my next-door neighbor.

The people next door are very nice people who are concerned for my safety and health, and although they are only a few years older than I, they tend to look after me as though I were a “babe in the woods.” After my long issue with atrial fibrillation and finally the pacemaker implant this year, they would call me every evening if they hadn’t seen my family room light turned on, asking, “Are you alright? We didn’t see a light.”

The Missus is a sweetheart, almost a “southern belle,” and she loves to read the things I write. The Mister, however, is opinionated, judgmental, and treats me as though I just “fell off the turnip truck yesterday.” Usually, I can smile and shrug off his comments, because I know they’re coming from a place of caring. However, yesterday was almost too much of a good thing.

I’d had several problems with my over-ten-years-old air-conditioner, so I contracted for an entirely new system, for which I paid many, many thousands of dollars. I chose that company because they offered an incredible warranty, which would mean any repairs would be done at no cost to me for a period of time that I calculated would be the rest of my life. However, I foolishly told my neighbor and he told me I had made a bad deal, paid too much, and, in general, let me know that he thought I was stupid.

When the system was being installed, my neighbor was outside in his yard, and he virtually attacked the technician for charging me so much. The A/C installer gave him what I thought was a brilliant answer: “And how is this any of your concern?” My neighbor harrumphed, turned up his nose and went back inside his house.

Now, today, I am sitting here in my house that is getting hotter and hotter because the new A/C system stopped working exactly 24 hours after it was installed. The company has promised me that a repairman will be here within the hour, but I don’t have much hope. I’m beginning to have those awful feelings of “buyer’s remorse” as I see my hard-earned money burning up with each rise of the thermometer.

Worse yet, I’m going to have to face my neighbor and submit to his “I told you so!”