What's in a name?

Tips, tricks, inspiration, and encouragement for storytellers of all stripes

Greetings from Sarasota—

Anyone who’s ever been in one of my playwriting or fiction classes knows that I have an obsession with names.

(They’ll also tell you I have an obsession with titles, but that’s another ramble for another newsletter.)

That’s because names have power. And I don’t just mean the Rumpelstiltskin kind of “now I have control over you” power. I mean the kind of power that affects relationships between characters, and shapes how audience members and readers connect with your characters.

Consider the case of one of the most brilliantly named characters in all of dramatic literature: “Willy Loman” from Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman.

First names first. It’s Willy. The weakest and most punch-down version of his given name, William. Note he doesn’t go by Will, or Bill, or even Billy, which—even though it shares the diminuitive -y ending with Willy—sounds more assertive because it opens with the plosive B rather than the breathy W.

Willy also connotes willy-nilly (unstable and haphazard, fitting for the character) and of course the childish British slang for penis.

The playwright has influenced our opinion of this character from the get-go, simply by naming him “Willy.”

The one and only Lee J. Cobb, as the original “Willy Loman”

But even more potently, Miller wallops this character with the surname “Loman.” As in, literally, the low man. This character is saddled with an impossible-to-overcome name. And that, frankly, is one of the key points of the play: the American Dream is a hollow lie, and even if you work your butt off, there’s zero guarantee attention will be paid.

If you are working class, you are the low man.

Willy Loman. The entire two-act play distilled into a single character name.

Now, it’s not just given names that matter. Effective use of nicknames (Willy) and pet names creates powerful specificity.

Nicholas. Nick. Nicky. Nicky-poo.

Eleanor. El. Elly. Nora. Ladybird.

You can immediately start imagining the different people in these characters’ lives who would call them by those variations.

Check it out: I’m Jason. My closest friends and family call me Jas. My mom (and only my mom) calls me Jazer. I resist Jay (I was bullied relentlessly by a Jay in grade school), but have become less vehement about this as the years pass. J-man and J-Dawg both came and, thankfully, went. Cannonman was particular to my days at Florida Studio Theatre, though my beloved Rebecca appropriated that nickname and turned it into a pet name. My pet names for her include…

Well hang on a sec. You can immediately feel the difference when pet names burble up, right? They’re private. It feels like eavesdropping or peeping through a window. Which is what makes them so powerful on stage or in your novel. The quality and quantity of pet names speaks volumes about relationships, their depth, and their health.

Also pay attention to what your characters may decide to call themselves. Did you know that Nathan Lane—yes, Broadway and Hollywood star Nathan Lane—is actually Joe Lane?

Fun fact: when someone joins Equity (the union of professional stage managers and actors), they have to register their name. And if their name has already been registered by someone else, they can’t have it! So they have to come up with a stage name.

Joe Lane joined Equity at age 19, but “Nathan Lane” had already been registered by another actor. What’s a Joe to do? Well, he had just played Benjamin Franklin in 1776 and Nathan Detroit in Guys and Dolls. (Ah, the magic of performing way above your age in summer stock theatre!) Anyhow, our friend Joe decided to go with either Benjamin or Nathan. He tested ‘em out, ran ‘em over his tongue and lips a few times, and thought Nathan had a better ring. Boom.

Honestly, can you imagine him as anything but Nathan Lane now? Does Joe Lane even make sense when you think back on his performances? And now consider Benjamin Lane.

Ben Lane? Benny Lane?

Nathan all the way.

One last name game I push on my students: give every character a name.

This is not as self-evident as you would think.

Often in first drafts—of plays especially—I’ll see characters “named” by their roles: Mom, Waiter, etc.

This is an immediate red flag. If you are referring to a flesh-and-blood person simply as their role… well, do you really need them in the scene?

Now, of course there are exceptions. Sometimes the role is the entire point, like the Valet in No Exit. Or Messenger 1 in any number of classic Greek or Shakespeare plays.

But talk to any actor playing those roles, and I guarantee they are creating backstory, relationship, even names. As soon as Mom has a name, she becomes more than “Mom.” As soon as that waiter has a name, there’s instant backstory and three-dimensionalization.

Because a name is a way in. It’s not just informational. It’s emotional.

Names have power. Wield that power wisely in your stories.

---

---

If you’re near Virginia next week…

I’m traveling to Leesburg, VA, next week for two performances of LAST OUT.

I talk about this show a lot. That’s because it’s one of the honors of my career to have worked on it, and to hold the artistic space for these military vets and family members to tell a story that creates meaning and facilitates healing in real time.

Performances are July 8 and 9 at 7pm at the Tally Ho Theater.

Here’s the scoop:

Join us at the historic Tally Ho Theater in Leesburg, VA, for Last Out: Elegy of a Green Beret—a powerful stage production written by Ret. Green Beret Lt. Col. Scott Mann and performed by a cast of veterans and military family members.

This unforgettable performance takes audiences deep into the heart of what it means to serve—and what is lost along the way. Told through the eyes of Danny Patton, a dying Green Beret caught between this world and the next, Last Out is a raw and emotional journey through the true cost of war.

More than a play, Last Out is a mission to honor the legacy of our nation’s defenders, educate civilians and policymakers, and help veterans and first responders heal through storytelling.

Don’t miss this immersive theatrical experience that has moved audiences across the country. Join us in honoring the fallen, supporting the living, and bridging the divide between those who serve and the communities they protect.

---

100 Plays

The next episode of 100 PLAYS will hit your inboxes first thing Monday!

In this episode, I talk about the relationship between discipline and integrity, the thrills and dangers of stage combat, and the joy of delivering the death speech.

You can listen on the Substack App, and all episodes are also available on Apple or Spotify.

Or, if you want to put a face with a voice, the video version will be available on YouTube.

---

The Page&Stage Podcast

A reminder to check out my conversation with Alice Manning.

Alice Manning joins me to explore the healing power of storytelling and the role of empathy in both art and life. She shares her journey from early influences to self-producing solo shows, highlighting how humor often springs from tragedy. Alice also discusses her transformative work leading storytelling workshops in prisons, fostering healing and connection among inmates. This inspiring conversation showcases Alice’s passion for using performance as a tool for personal growth and social change.

You can listen on the Substack App, and all episodes are also available on Apple or Spotify.

Or, if you want to put faces with voices, you can watch the video version of this podcast over on YouTube.

---

Before I sign off, two quick reminders—

REMINDER 1: you can comment on this newsletter. I do my absolute best to respond to every comment, so if something I’ve offered above tickles that question/comment/complaint nerve in your reader-brain, I’d love to hear about it. Let’s get into a fun conversation!

REMINDER 2: I take requests. If there’s a storytelling topic or issue you’d like me to address in a future newsletter, email me directly at jason@jasoncannon.art.

If I don’t have a ready answer, I’ll make it my mission to go find one.

Thanks as always for reading, and have a great weekend—

Jason “J-Dawg” Cannon