It will surprise no one to hear I was a journalism dork in high school. That's right, I was going to be the next Sam Donaldson (well, in a bra and an armful of rubber bracelets.) My h.s. newspaper, The Parkviewer, gave me my very own monthly column. I could name it whatever I like, and choose any subject I wanted.
Oh, the power! And the importance of selecting just the right title. What should it be? It needed to draw readers in, of course, and also reflect something about me. I pondered this many a night, sitting under my Duran Duran poster. Oh, Simon, tell me the answer! And then it came to me...it was...brilliant! THE LONE SOCK!
Yes! A bit of rebelliousness mixed with the angsty lonely teenage-y feeling of being left out, discarded, not quite fitting with the rest. SO FREAKING PERFECT!
Except that no one got it. "You wanna call it what?" my journo teacher asked. "Well...okay."
Then the reviews came in:
"I liked your article, but, um, what's the title mean?"
"I thought it would be about laundry."
"Do you have some sort of sock problem? I see you're wearing two today."
Yeah. Oh well. Maybe it wasn't so perfect.
Strangely enough, my daughter's school asked me to write some articles for their parent newsletter next year. They are meant to be light in tone--like a column. I told my husband this and he said, "Just like the Lone Sock! It lives!"
I promise I won't give it that title.
How about you? Did you ever have a brilliant idea fall flat?