See Cinder Bridge

When I first had visions of starting my own band, I had no idea what the band would be called. I just knew I didn't want it to be my name. A band's sound reflects the contributions of all its members. Calling us "Susan Wenger and the Disturbed Unicorns" (or whatever) would deny those contributions.

The decision has served Cinder Bridge well. It only becomes inconvenient at events like the Tucson Folk Festival Songwriting Contest, where the songwriters enter under their own names. My hope is that audience members who have never heard of us will like the two songs I play and buy our CD at the festival's Kitchen Store. But our CD will be filed under Cinder Bridge. Oops.

My plan had been to ask the people running the Kitchen Store to file half of our CDs under "Cinder Bridge" and the other half under my name. I'd slap labels on the "Susan" CDs so searchers wouldn't get confused. The Kitchen Store people had a better idea: They'd have a "Susan Wenger" card in the Ws, and on it they'd write "See Cinder Bridge." If they filed our CDs under both the band name and my name, one group might sell out, and people who looked for us under one name wouldn't know to check the other.

Works for me. I'm for anything that tells people to see Cinder Bridge.

Cinder Bridge, Incorporated: Nevermind

Ron the Drummer called me this morning about the company that supposedly took our name. Being much less lazy than I am, Ron took the extra step of signing up for the business directory that listed Cinder Bridge. That gave him access to the contact info for the companies listed there.

And? The phone number for Cinder Bridge is my cell number. The URL is www.cinderbridge.com, the band's website. Either their bot made a mistake, or they're trying to pad their directory to make it seem like it contains more businesses than it does.

Besides the mailing address for Cinder Bridge the company, the only piece of information they give that doesn't link back to us is the contact name: Alex Spivey. We have no idea who this is. I wonder if he or she would like to be our booking agent.

The hell?

Catching up on my e-mail, I found a Google alert for Cinder Bridge. Yay! Except that it wasn't about us. It was about some company called Cinder Bridge.

Y'know, back when Ron the Drummer and I began casting about for a band name, we wanted to make sure that whatever we chose not only hadn't been taken, but wouldn't be taken. Ever. When we finally settled on "Cinder Bridge," we figured we were pretty safe.

So what are the odds that some random business would think of it too?

And what are the odds that the location of said business would be a few miles from my freaking house?

Buh.

"Cinder Bridge?"

Coming up with a band name is harder than you think.

When Ron and I decided the time had come to call our project something other than "our project," the goal was to find one word or phrase that conveyed everything we wanted to be. Something that said we didn't take ourselves too seriously. But not so weird that we'd get sick of it in a few weeks.

Oh, and it had to sound cool.

We asked other people for advice, then realized this may have been a mistake as they flooded us with Mad Libs-style offerings. I could be, say, eating a banana while talking about about searching the classifieds for jobs, and a friend would say, "Hey! How about "Banana Classified"? They'd be all disappointed when I explained that although the name was cute, we didn't see calling ourselves Banana Classified for the rest of the band's career. Meanwhile, we weren't coming up with anything better on our own.

So why Cinder Bridge?

At some point I got it into my head that I'd like a name with "bridge" in it. Not sure I could tell you why. It felt right. When "Cinder Bridge" popped into my mind, I liked it a lot ... and then discounted it. It sounded good, but what the heck did it mean?

Still, it stuck with me. Eventually, the meaning began to emerge. One of my dominant personality characteristics has been a fear of starting anything. I always feel unready. If I begin my endeavor before I'm fully prepared, I'll inevitably screw the whole thing up. I'll burn my bridges behind me.

The lesson I've had to learn over and over again is this: The worst thing you can do is nothing. The burning bridge behind you is better than the bridge you never had the courage to cross.

* * *

I've been wanting to start our little band blog for a while. I haven't done it 'til now because I've felt unready. What if I had nothing to write? What if nobody read it?

Eh. The hell with it. Welcome to Cinder Bridge world. And may the bridges we burn light our way.