“The mind is not a vessel to be filled
but a fire to be kindled.”
~ Plutarch
“The mind is not a vessel to be filled
but a fire to be kindled.”
~ Plutarch
“I am not an Athenian or a Greek,
but a citizen of the world.”
~ Socrates
Have you ever noticed that Greek families all seem to be named after the same relative? It’s customary in Greek culture to name the firstborn boy after his papou, the father’s father, and the firstborn girl after her yiayia, the father’s mother. Subsequent children are named after the mother’s side of the family.
According to the Greek Orthodox faith, though, children are supposed to be named after the saint whose feast day they are born on.
A child born on December 27 would be named after Saint Stephen. Stephen was one of the first deacons of the Church. However, after a vicious argument, he was accused of blasphemy and sentenced to death by stoning. Standing up for himself and his beliefs, he said that those Church leaders were the very people who persecuted the prophets. He is now recognized as a martyr.
The name “Stephen” comes from the Greek word “stephanos,” which translates to “crowned.”
My birthday is not December 27 nor was my yiayia’s name Stephania, so my name is a bit of a break from the Greek culture. I’m actually named after my father’s stepfather. And yes, family reunions can get a bit confusing, with my cousin Stefanos and I both responding to “Stef.”
Today I’ll be celebrating my name with my family!
How did you get your name? Do you celebrate your name day?
Kerouac’s play “Beat Generation,” written the same year that On the Road was published, will also have its premiere tonight. The event stage production is taking place during Lowell Celebrates Kerouac, the week-long literary where fans from across the country make their pilgrimage to Kerouac’s hometown in Massachusetts.
As The Guardian reports, until around 2005, Kerouac’s play “The Beat Generation” sat unpublished in a New Jersey warehouse. In 2006 Da Capo Press published the play, with an introduction by A. M. Holmes. Kerouac, who had a great interest in film, never got to see his own play put on or his novels made into a film.
Merrimack Repertory Theatre (MRT) raised funds through Kickstarter to stage the play in Lowell and is presented with UMass Lowell. It was made with “the support and collaboration of Kerouac Literary Estate representative John Sampas,” according to MRT.
The play centers around the same group of New York City friends Kerouac often wrote about, as they pass around a bottle of wine. Perhaps even more so than his novels, which are rich in poetry, the emphasis in “Beat Generation” is on dialogue. Kerouac had a great ear for the unique syncopation of everyday language and the lingua franca of the working class. As Kerouac himself said:
One thing is sure: It is now a real play, an original play, a comedy but with overtones of sadness and with some pretty fine spontaneous speeches that are as good as Clifford Odets.
Odets (1906-1963) was a playwright raised in Philly and the Bronx who wrote such plays as Waiting for Lefty and Golden Boy. Born to Russian- and Romanian-Jewish immigrant parents, Odets used ethnic language and street talk in his plays. Arthur Miller said of Odets’ work, ″For the very first time in America, language itself . . . marked a playwright as unique.″ Kerouac himself was the son of immigrant French-Canadian parents and made use of both ethnic language–his own joual dialect as well as Greek and Spanish–and street talk.
For information on the special events surrounding the play as well as tickets, visit MRT.
Calvin Reid makes insightful remarks about the role e-technology and social media are playing in publishing in “SXSW 2012: New Publishing Models and the Rise of the Referral Economy.” If you’re new to publishing and looking to make your mark on the industry and find readers, I’d highly encourage you to read the entire article. To his point on “curating,” here’s some remarks of his that you might find especially helpful:
What I take away from this is the following:
Writers need to start building a platform NOW—as in, even before we’ve written our book, we need to start curating content on our subject matter. This means tweeting, forwarding, and “liking,” other writers’ posts related to our subject and also blogging, tweeting, and writing our own status updates on our subject.
Generate content and don’t be afraid to give it away for free. It’s better to give our writing away for free in the beginning so that we can establish ourselves as authorities on that topic and/or as interesting storytellers. Eventually, people will love you and want to buy your writing—but it might take a lot of giving your work away for free first. Michael Hyatt is a big proponent of giving away free content. Not only does he give away valuable information on his blog, but he also created an ebook that he gives to anyone who subscribes to his blog. Both the blog subscription and the ebook are free.
Don’t be all holier than thou about advertising. Solicit advertising for your blog. I personally would suggest keeping your advertising in line with your brand—and your brand should probably be consistent with how you’d want to be thought of by your friends and parents as well. What I mean is, I personally would rather go hungry than earn money from escort ads. The best ads are going to be ones that relate to your subject matter. So if I’m writing about Greek identity, ads about learning how to play the harmonica aren’t going to be controversial but they won’t be as relevant as ads about learning how to speak Greek.
Humbly consider the rights to your content. Bloggers may quote rather heavily from anything you post—and by heavily, I mean they might use your work entirely and just give you credit via a link. This might be a breach of your copyright, but before you get your knickers in a bunch consider if their promotion of your work might be helping you out with some free advertising. Maybe it’s bringing new readers to your work. …But then again, maybe it’s not. Therefore, always be careful with what sort of content you put on your blog. Sure, someone could pirate your whole book, but it’s more likely someone will repost a blog entry than your entire book. With that in mind, be prepared that what you publish on your blog might end up elsewhere.
Pay attention to your e-rights. Landing a book contract is about more than just the print rights these days. Make sure your contract expressly states an agreement about electronic and print-on-demand editions.
It feels like writers—and artists of any sort—get a raw deal. We have to give a lot of free content away. Professionals in other industries don’t seem to have to do this to the same extent. Lawyers may work an occasional pro bono case, but they’re not expected to work for free before making it big. Doctors may do Doctors Without Borders to give back and help people, but this is a personal choice they make. I suppose in some ways artists giving away their work—and having it stolen from them in the case of extreme curating—is an internship of sorts, but the difference is that artists are expected to intern their entire lives or at least until they hit it big.
Therefore, I’d encourage all artists to be savvy.
Yes, you might feel pressured to build your platform and give away content for free, but make sure you’re getting something in return for your investment.
Don’t let your platform overtake your writing. Your platform is a means to an end—your book project.
Use the system. There’s nothing wrong with giving away content for free. There’s nothing wrong with soliciting ads. There’s nothing wrong with social media. Don’t let anyone or any platform rule over you. Keep your goals in perspective and use the system to your advantage. Find your target audience, make connections, earn money, promote your projects.
You can find me not only here on this blog, but also on Twitter, Pinterest, and Google+.
I’ll be reading one of my Greek American stories this Monday night, June 18, at The Penny Farthing!
The Storytellers event, hosted by C3, starts at 7 and will be in the super cool downstairs speakeasy of The Penny Farthing at 103 3rd Avenue (@ 13th Street) in New York City.
Hope to see you there!
All the endangered language research I’ve been doing seeped its way into the rough draft of my memoir. Below is a scene in which I encounter two darker-skinned boys at the Greek Consulate in New York City. From the looks of them, I gather that they must be Albanians. As I’m dealing with my own language issues at the Consulate, I begin to think about theirs. This section turned out to be too Wikipedia-ish in comparison to the lighter, humorous tone of that chapter in my memoir, so I was advised to take it out. Still, I found the subject matter fascinating, and so I’m posting it here as an outtake.
Two dark-skinned boys in their teens or twenties—it was hard to tell—filled out paperwork at the long table. They wore motorcycle-style jackets that made them look tough but in more of a poor than badass look. I wondered if they were perhaps Albanian refugees. Cham Albanians began migrating to Greece during the Middle Ages. They speak the Cham Albanian language, a type of Tosk Albanian that was the language of the most well-known bejtexhinj, Muhamet Kyçyku, first poet of the Albanian National Renaissance. Bejtexhinj is the oftentimes religious poetry written in Albanian with Arabic alphabet and Persian, Turkish, and Arabic words, that began in the eighteenth-century to rebel against the influence of the Ottoman Empire. During that time and also in the early twentieth century, Albanians known as Arvanites came to Greece as well. The Tosk Albanian dialect they speak, known as Arvanitika, is now an endangered language, as they assimilate into Greek culture. Though sometimes Arvanitika is used interchangeably, the Orthodox Albanians who in the 1920s came to northeastern Greece, namely to the areas of Western Thrace and Greek Macedonia, are called Shqiptars. They speak the Northern Tosk Albanian. Although many Arvanitika fought against the Ottomans in the Greek War for Independence from 1821 to 1832, by World War II the Cham Albanians had sided with Italy and Germany and had to flee from Greece to Albania, Turkey, and the United States. After the fall of Communism in 1991, another group of Albanians came over to Greece to escape economic depravity. Today, most Albanians living in Greece self-identify as Greek; they have converted to Greek Orthodox Christianity and speak the Greek language. Now, listening in on the two boys consulting each other for their paperwork, I couldn’t tell whether they spoke an Albanian dialect or Greek.
On my lunch break one afternoon I met a man from Greece at a coffee shop. He had been born in Greece, but currently resides in New York. He didn’t have the thick Greek accent that would’ve indicated a recent move, and yet like so many Greek people I’ve met, he was still very much hung up on Greece.
After some rather dull conversation he perked up when I told him the memoir I’m writing is about growing up Greek American. It made me kind of hate him. I know that’s a terrible, overdramatic reaction, but his reaction gave me the distinct sense that in his eyes my ethnic heritage played a role in my worth.
The Greek American community is incredibly proud of its Greek heritage. As we should be. We have a beautiful culture with a rich and fascinating history. I often feel I don’t live up to Greek ideals. I know the reason I inwardly cringed when the man expressed interest in my heritage above all else is because I feel like I fall short of the standards of Greek American identity. I don’t speak the Greek language, I don’t look particularly Greek, and I’m not 100% Greek. Culturally, I’m not very Greek.
In fact, those who know me well are surprised when I say I’m writing a memoir about growing up Greek American. Spoiler alert! The memoir isn’t really about being Greek. It’s about being American. It’s about growing up American but going through an experience as an adult that ties me back to Greece.
Life is too complex for anyone to be categorized or valued based on just one aspect of their identity.
I’ve heard a lot of strange comments in my writing workshops. Someone once told me they thought from my writing that I wished I was a boy. Someone else questioned why I write more about Greek identity than Swedish identity. I expect all sorts of reactions to the content of my essays and that I’ll get criticism in regard to structure. It comes with the territory.
What I never suspected was that I’d get feedback on my punctuation.
I don’t recall ever hearing anyone else in a workshop receive comments on their lack of use of the oxford comma or their split infinitives. Actually, that’s not entirely true. I criticized someone’s use of parentheses. If it’s unimportant enough to place in a parenthetical, it’s not important enough to keep in your book. Edit it out! Of course there are exceptions: for example, definitions of foreign words. The other instance of a workshop debate being generated from punctuation had to do with the use of David-Foster-Wallace-like footnotes. For the most part, though, comments about punctuation—errors in punctuation, that is—are kept to written edits on the writer’s page.
That’s why I found it so curious that at least once a semester, someone raised comments praising my grammar and punctuation. As an editor by profession, punctuation is important to a fault for me. I live by Oscar Wilde’s quote:
I was working on the proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma. In the afternoon I put it back again.
It just never occurred to me that someone might actually notice my punctuation. After all, correct punctuation should be a given. And when punctuation is correct, it generally doesn’t stand out to the reader.
I figured readers maybe noticed my punctuation because I use crazy marks like the semicolon. Who uses the semicolon nowadays?
I’m playing a bit coy, though. I do believe there’s more to punctuation than it just being correct. I don’t intend my punctuation to stand out and grab the reader’s attention. I’m not trying to be a punctuation renegade, experimenting and breaking the rules for purposeful affect. That said, every comma, every em-dash, and yes, every parenthesis conveys subtle meaning.
Think about it. When em-dashes (those long dashes between words) appear in a text, doesn’t it make the work feel more modern and fast-paced than a commonplace comma? And don’t endnotes seem more scholarly than parentheses?
I think punctuation frightens most people. It brings back all this childhood trauma associated with teachers yelling about sentence fragments and marking papers up with green pen. Green is the new red. Green is supposed to be less scary than red, but it isn’t. It means the exact same thing: you made an error.
Don’t let punctuation poison your prose. Get a grip on it and use punctuation just as you use diction as one of your writer’s tools to convey your story to your reader.
Helpful resources for proper punctuation:
Grammar class at New York University