What’s in a name? For a poetry journal, a lot. Or so it seemed to us. Settling on Foothill was the first major decision we made as a group.
We looked to several literary journals for inspiration. Their titles ranged from the wildly inventive to the mundane: The [insert name of university, town, or region] Review. Our discussions on a name were, much like those for a masthead and logo (see below post for March 9), at times tense, at times fruitless, but always respectful and spirited. Similarly, we wanted the name (somewhat like the masthead and logo) to reflect our concept: a journal celebrating the work of poets laboring through a difficult stage in their development toward something, well, higher.
Everyone contributed names, and to venture one took some amount of courage: the best met with contemplative nods and non-committal “that’s not bad”s; the worst, laughter. Below is a list of the top 10 we voted on (in no particular order) accompanied by notes from a meeting where we went over literal meanings and a few cultural evocations.
Promontory: land the juts into water.
Foreland: land in front of a geographical feature.
Embers: related to CGU’s the Flame Magazine, glowing coal in a dying fire, the name of a bankrupt pizza chain.
Foothill: low hill at the base of a mountain, name of the road that runs by campus (route 66).
Skyline: outline of a structure defined against the sky.
Right turn on Red: In Annie Hall Alvy Singer says this is the only cultural advantage of living in Los Angeles.
Sparks: related to the Flame magazine, fiery particles, a disgusting alcoholic energy drink produced by Miller.
Germinal: a germ cell or embryo.
Inceptivus: Latin for “to begin.”
American Elm: rare trees that line streets in Claremont.
Inceptivus? you ask. The disgrace is mine. For shame.
What we were going for was a name that wouldn’t disappear among the raucous jungle of exotic titles, nor one too bland and forgettable, nor too irreverent. We wanted a name that was precise and clear. Foothill. As Brendan described it, Not a home run; more like a double.
We’re in scoring position, at least.
We looked to several literary journals for inspiration. Their titles ranged from the wildly inventive to the mundane: The [insert name of university, town, or region] Review. Our discussions on a name were, much like those for a masthead and logo (see below post for March 9), at times tense, at times fruitless, but always respectful and spirited. Similarly, we wanted the name (somewhat like the masthead and logo) to reflect our concept: a journal celebrating the work of poets laboring through a difficult stage in their development toward something, well, higher.
Everyone contributed names, and to venture one took some amount of courage: the best met with contemplative nods and non-committal “that’s not bad”s; the worst, laughter. Below is a list of the top 10 we voted on (in no particular order) accompanied by notes from a meeting where we went over literal meanings and a few cultural evocations.
Promontory: land the juts into water.
Foreland: land in front of a geographical feature.
Embers: related to CGU’s the Flame Magazine, glowing coal in a dying fire, the name of a bankrupt pizza chain.
Foothill: low hill at the base of a mountain, name of the road that runs by campus (route 66).
Skyline: outline of a structure defined against the sky.
Right turn on Red: In Annie Hall Alvy Singer says this is the only cultural advantage of living in Los Angeles.
Sparks: related to the Flame magazine, fiery particles, a disgusting alcoholic energy drink produced by Miller.
Germinal: a germ cell or embryo.
Inceptivus: Latin for “to begin.”
American Elm: rare trees that line streets in Claremont.
Inceptivus? you ask. The disgrace is mine. For shame.
What we were going for was a name that wouldn’t disappear among the raucous jungle of exotic titles, nor one too bland and forgettable, nor too irreverent. We wanted a name that was precise and clear. Foothill. As Brendan described it, Not a home run; more like a double.
We’re in scoring position, at least.
