I literally cannot resist giving chapters titles.

I have named the chapters in all my books from the unpublished to the soon-to-be published.

Chapter titles are like this little untapped gem the structure of a novel offers to the author. They call out to me, sing to me, like a siren’s song. “Name me, Daisy. Breathe life into me.”

I don’t hold back. I give in to their desire to be named. “Yes, chapter! Oh, yes, chapter. I will name you! How about ‘First Time,’ or ‘The Other Girl’ or ‘Acting Out?’” I say in my sultry writer voice. (Yes, those are chapter titles in THE MOCKINGBIRDS.)

“Yes, yes. Those are all good! Use them on me,” the manuscript cries out. “Type them, write them down, make them permanent with your word processing program!”

“I am dreaming them up now for you, dear novel,” I whisper lovingly. “Making them up, inventing them this very moment, just for you.”

“Sigh,” the novel says softly. “I will never have unnamed chapters with your word lust for me.”

Whew, it’s hot in here. Go put some clothes on, you naughty little book.