I believe it was Stephen King who first popularized the convention of using recognizable, real name-brand items in his fiction work. Rather than hide behind euphemisms and half-camouflaged descriptions, King made a habit out of calling a Coke a Coke, a Ford Mustang a Ford Mustang, a Price Pfister faucet a Price Pfister faucet and a glass of Tang a glass of Tang.

On one level, it works; Coca-Cola, for example, immediately paints a complete picture in the reader’s mind without a long description of a mundane item, and sets the fiction tale in a more-immediately-recognizable word that mirrors our own.

One rarely, for example, looks at a can of Coca-Cola and thinks about “a popular cola beverage in an instantly-recognizable red, silver and white can that shone with the sweat of a cold can on a hot day in the scorching noon sun.”

No, more common is when one looks at a person and thinks about “how Gina rolled the cold, damp metal of the Coke can across her steaming forehead, seeking relief from the scorching noon sun.”

See how much more natural that sounds? In the former, too much emphasis is put on the can, whereas by describing it as a Coke can, the focus can be placed properly on the character holding it.

Yet does using brand names make one a bit lazier as a writer, or simply more focused? It’s a debate that may never be settled completely to the agreement of all writers.