As a writer, I spend a lot of time thinking about titles. For my own projects, I either know the title of a book immediately, or I choose it only after great struggle.

For instance, the titles The Happiness Project and Outer Order, Inner Calm came very easily. Better Than Before and Life in Five Senses took me months to decide on.

Because I love titles so much, I keep a running list of all my favorite titles. These go on for pages. A World Lit Only by Fire. To the Finland Station. Spare. And on and on.

Glancing over these titles the other day, I noticed a pattern. I realized that among other things, I really love a title where an industrial term is paired with what might be called a humanities term.

For instance, some of my favorite titles include:

• Industrial Light and Magic—this was the studio founded by George Lucas to create visual effects
• Color Factory—this is an art exhibit with playful participatory installations that celebrate color and the senses
• The Sacred and Profane Love Machine – this is a title of a novel by Iris Murdoch, a novelist whose work I love
• Koan Pro – software used to create generative music
• Metaphysical Milkshake – a podcast featuring actor Rainn Wilson (who played Dwight in The Office) and scholar Reza Aslan
  
  

I deployed this kind of combination myself, to dream up the title for one of my most fun creative projects.

For years, I’d been collecting a list of the “indirect directions” that help me generate creative solutions. I started this list because I’d noticed that sometimes, when working on a writing project, I’d hit a roadblock. Then, as I was struggling to move forward, I’d hear someone make an off-hand comment, or I’d read some thought-provoking phrase, and with this “indirect direction,” I’d get sudden inspiration.

I kept a running list of these directions, like “Down with boredom.” “Embrace a constraint,” “Get started.” “Collaborate with someone new,” “Have something to say,” “It’s not a bug, it’s a feature,” and “Add ketchup.”

I wanted to create a card deck featuring the indirect directions, but what should I call this thing? I was stuck, so I took the very appropriate step of drawing a card to get some ideas. I pulled the card that read, “Find a fresh metaphor.”

Nothing came to mind right away, but days later, as I walked through the Metropolitan Museum one afternoon, I found my answer.

I’d stopped in front of one of my favorite objects, the elaborate ceramic Inkstand with Apollo and the Muses, a desk set from 1584 decorated with figures of Apollo, the Muses, and famous poets. As I looked, I thought, “An inkstand with a crowd of muses is the perfect thing to spark ideas for a writer,” and suddenly I knew what I should name my indirect-directions cards: the Muse Machine.

Now, of everything I’ve created, “Muse Machine” is one of my favorite titles.

If you’d like to look at the Muse Machine, and maybe even buy one for yourself, you can check it out here.