Back when I was a student in the Seton Hill Writing Popular Fiction MFA program, one of my critique partners was bemoaning the state of his name. You see, his name is Todd.
Whenever he saw his name in fiction, the guy was always some preppy, sweater-tied-around-the-shoulder jackass. Or a trust-fund jackass. Or… well, you get the picture. Todd has a bad rap. Todd was the disliked character in 80s comedy movies. Todd was a stuck-up snob. Todd was never sexy.
It’s true. Todd’s not the name you think of when you think “Sexy Hot Hero.” Or, you know, hero, period.
I promised my friend, if I ever named a character Todd, he would not be a trust fund, neck-sweater-wearing preppy jackhole.
Years later, when it came time to brainstorm up a foil for Fazil… I came up with a bad boy, son of a mechanic from the wrong side of the tracks. A James Dean type. Sexy. Hot. Nothing at all like your typical Todd…and I remembered my promise.
Thus Todd Douglas received his name, in reclamation for all the Todds out there who are tired of the 80s sweater look and who aren’t trust-fund kids.
‘Cause some Todds like to get their hands dirty. (And they’re nice, sexy guys, too.)