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Hi everyone! This post is inspired by the man discussed immediately below who asked me to answer five questions about myself. My courtesy outweighed my humilty, so first I'll talk about him!

Ken Alexopoulos, a fellow opoulos, is better known to me as Kenny. I met him when we were both kids, before or during his evolution into a bold intellect who writes interesting stories that I anticipate will soon become favored in hard copy and video form. His work is sometimes dark, sometimes funny, and always socially relevant. He makes no apologies for his opinions which he broadcasts freely- the mark of a true artist. A testament to his talent and perceived reader demand, Ken's work was picked up almost immediately after he posted it onto his website. But if you're swear-word queasy, expect racy language- Ken doesn't sacrifice meaning for censorship. He is honest, direct, creative and your next favourite writer. He asked me to answer some questions about myself here on my blog, but if you want to find out what he really thinks about me, and to read his work, listen to his radio interview or look at an entirely random image of "a kitten swimming in marshmallows", check out his blog.

Q & A time. Deep breath, aaaaaand go!

1. What am I working on?

Expression is not work to me. Repression is!

Something that I do consider tedious is the ongoing process of transferring my handwritten work to the computer, as I prefer to write by pen. I keep every piece of writing, every drawing, every business idea close. There’s something organic about handwriting that has inspired many of my poems, so sacrificing the extra time to preserve them is the solace that pushes that effort.

I am also working on unifying my tridentity; my creative works have been presented as by either Efstathia, Effie Sotiropoulos or Effie Star, all of which I am. While this may falsely appear to be representative of an identity crisis or complex, it should actually emphasize my self-awareness, as I so readily identify which part of me each piece (feeling, emotion, expression) is coming from that I present it to you under its proper heading, in the proper context.

My second defense: it was cool when Eminem did it.

What am I writing these days? Aside from writing poetry (under any tridentity, depending on the voice) and music (as Effie Star), which occurs spontaneously and daily, I have been expanding my novels (by Effie Sotiropoulos): What’s Eating Virginia Woolfe: This is the one I dreamed. This book has led to such intense research and contemplation that I feel there must be some greater purpose to its inception. A young girl stumbles into an underground society led by exiled author Nikos Kazantzakis. The group's only nemesis is progressive writer Virigina Woolfe, who, unknown to Kazantzakis, entered his cult anonymously in escape of her own demons and difficulties with the world after faking her death. The young girl studies the works and philosophies of both these writers, with whom she directly interacts, to the discovery of her own spiritual emancipation. Will she choose to remain in Kazantzakis underground society, or do her spiritual realizations lead her back into the world that drove both these historical writers away? Plan A: This is part one of a planned chick lit sequel. It discusses abortion through a romantic, humurous and surprisingly light story. Fighting Cravings: is a Bridgette Jones’ Diary-like chick lit novel about food, love and the temptations that lure us to both! Juliette Peep Show: This was my first completed novel. It is a Young Adult book about various events and decisions that are crucial to the emerging adult, including career, romantic relationships, friendship, and uncertainty about the future.

Birds, Bees and Butterflies is my most recently completed project to date. It began as a short story but was received as an ‘obvious confessional’, and I am considering expaning it into a full memoir.

I have also started drafting two non-fiction humorous cultural books. I laugh while writing them, and that’s all I can say about them at the moment!

I will post my newest musical compositions here soon! I am currently co-writing, and am putting down some of my self-composed tracks in studio later this month!

I am also renewing my interest in my other creative interests: photography, visual arts and cooking!

2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I believe my background and life experiences, both of which emphasize mortality, offer a unique voice to my art, though I haven’t tapped into only one genre yet. I feel that anyone who is honest in his or her expression differentiates him or herself, if only by default. Though humanity is connected through the human experience, we are all individually unique, and that shines through regardless of genre or expressive form.

3. Why do I write what I write?

I write because not everyone has the courage to say the things I say publically. I tend to write about topics that many people consider controverisal: psychology, relationships, religion and art. My book, Plan A, deals with abortion and birth control. Birds, Bees and Butterflies talks about child abuse. I write about events in my life, I write about fictitious life. I write because I have a lot to say about a lot of important things. Sometimes I even write to take a break from the serious things I think about, talk about, sing about and write about. It is more of a discomfort for me to stay silent. (Those who know me just threw their heads back in a thrust of laughter). Writing, expression, boldness and creativity are some of my God-given gifts. I cannot keep in my views, because I’m not supposed to. It is unnatural for me to stay silent. I do not understand the silent mind, though I am attracted to it.

Writing waters my creativity, flourishing it. I write to have my questions answered through my writing. God walks into my talent and guides my hand to draw the conclusion that my heart seeks to find. If it’s not from God, then it isn’t any good. Nothing that is good can come from anywhere else.

4. What is my writing process?

I simply write. I don’t have a technical process. I don’t like to edit much. I believe true expression is always at its best when left untouched, so I like to leave it as true to its original form as possible so that the rawness of emotion and intent is present. This is especially true of my poetry.

I am dream-gifted in my insomnia, which means I sleep little but dream big, both during slumber and while awake! My novel, What's Eating Virginia Woolfe, for example, is entirely based on a dream I had. Notice how it differs in nature from some of my waking compositions. Many times I write songs that way, too; I wake up with (or sometimes from) a hook or melody in my head that I sing into my cell phone and later take to studio to record in full.

What precedes my writing process is an urge, much like one you might get to eat or drink; I thirst, I hunger, I write. When I get that urge, I find a piece of paper, a napkin, anything with some bareness to it, and I stain it with ink or lead and ideas, forming shapes recognizable as words, and those form into patterns and questions I didn’t realize I had which, by the end of the piece, find resolve. This is how I write, and why I write.

Above my life experiences, my dreams, and my gift of creativity is my God, the Christian Triune God, Who inspires my work and everything I do.

5. A little example of my stuff:

Merino

Ears of golden patience,

Fleece my pillowcase,

Weave new peacefulness

Throughout my tired face

And casually replace

My fears dressed in lace

With skill you interlace

Your natural grace.

When I am a tiger,

You remain the sheep

Your wool is my comfort

In heaps;

When I feel a shiver,

And I cannot sleep,

Bind me with your yarn and

Calm me.

Ears of golden patience,

Fabric of your soul

Lamb of love’s engagement

Wool worth corn and gold.

PLAN A:

We arrive fashionably late for the eight o’clock hors d’oeurves reception at exactly twenty past. It is amazing to see all the formerly familiar faces that are now almost unfamiliar upon first glance. Some people have changed so much, have endured traumas, deaths, debts, divorce and, as a result, their physical youth has been swallowed; others look the same or even better than their high school days, as though they have never tasted a sour moment in life. Me, I’m somewhere in between. Aidrian, well he has changed from a good-looking guy to a handsome man. Feeling the past mesh with the present is an awkward but necessary revelation.

When we split to mingle separately, I notice how many women still flock to Aidrian, inquiring about how he’s been, what he’s now up to, and I’ve even noticed a few scanning his left hand for a ring. Now and then he looks over at me too, and I feel comfortable in his glance. Throughout the night I re-acquaint myself with old high school friends, some with spouses now, some with babies, and some never wed or paired.

That’s the category I fall into. I think I’m ready for a drink.

I excuse myself from the current group discussion about work and walk myself over to the bar.

“Cosmopolitan”, I say to the barwoman, passing her my drink stub.

A woman in a red dress next to me turns to read my nametag, and I read hers.

“Tracey Carrey”, she says with a smile. “I remember you.”

The fair-skinned red haired woman had barely changed with time. “Jessica, hi, wow you look great.” “Cosmo”, and the drink is slid to me.

“Thanks, so do you, as usual.” Hiccup.

I drop a tooney into the tip jar. “Oh, you’re just saying that.”

Jessica Strait was known not just in E.F.I and Queensview, the school my highschool boyfriend Frank went to, which was also coincidentally the feuding school in everything for E.F.I, but in many local schools for her hottie–by-nature status; she was by far the prettiest girl I’d ever known, and she definitely got taken advantage for it. Hence her given nickname by the teenage boys, mess-with-ya Jess-i-ca. But she never seemed to mind her reputation much, which I always found brave and bold, even while others found it trashy. I always admired her for keeping her head up despite all the rumours, or perhaps truths, which would have made just about any other girl want to hide. Looking at her now, it is plain to see she is comfortable in her female form, which is tightly held by the long sleeved ruby dress that grazes her pale knees and glorifies her enviable curves. She was the woman I was always too shy to be; something of a Sex and the City’s Samantha, but less vulgar, more delicate, and a little sweeter in the face.

“So what’s the deal?” She asks. “Are you married, single, did you bring a date?”

I can tell by her insecure stance that she is already quite drunk, but still, now it is finally my turn to gloat. “Not married yet,” I giggle, “I came with Aidrian Childe. Remember him?” I take a sip of my Cosmo. Of course she remembered him. He was one of the few men who was never interested in being with her. Aidrian did have his share of crushes in high school, but he was more reserved, a gentleman type, and was particular with his women.

“Aidrian Childe?” She winks at me. “That’s awesome, go girl!” She playfully slaps me on the arm.

Thank you, thank you.

“Well you know, we’re just sort of here together tonight, we’ll see what happens.” Someone taps me behind my shoulder and I turn to see who it is. I almost drop my glass when I see a light-haired man with a goatee on his face and fire in his eyes.

“What are you doing here Frank?” I manage to speak through a suddenly dry throat. I try to remain composed in front of my peers while memories of demented high school relationships flash back into my mind. Where is Aidrian, where is he?? “Something wrong with your phone? You think you can avoid me like that? Who do you think you are?” Frank snarls while he stares at me.

I try to avoid a scene, but people are noticing. He looks twice as inebriated as Jessica and his breath reeks of hard liquor. I turn to her for refuge, but she is facing the bar, ordering her next drink, oblivious. I feel so isolated in Frank’s glare. He laughs a sweaty laugh. “What’s wrong, can’t find your friends? Well who can blame them, who would want to hang around a bitch like you?” He snorts at his own non-joke.

I want to cry but fight back the tears with all my will. I see Aidrian turn from a group of friends and I catch his eye. In that instant, he makes his way to where I stand with Frank.

“Everything ok here?” Aidrian puts his arm around me as we face Frank in opposition.

Frank exposes his teeth and squints his eyes in angry reservation. “Oh it’s like that, Trace? You wanna play games, eh? I see how it is.” He points at us both. “You’re playing with the wrong guy. The wrong guy.”

~ ~ ~

More of my poetry, Birds, Bees and Butterflies and other work samples can be found here, and by checking my blog every week! You've reached the end of my Blog Share, at least the parts all about me me me. Lucky you you you, because there are some other interesting writers I'd like to introduce you to! At the ripe age of 19, Jeremiah Walton will challenge the latent ageism in you when you realize all that he's accomplished thus far. Right now he's launching an IndiGoGo campaign for a traveling bookstore and publisher in addition to managing Nostrovia! Poetry, Wish Publishing, The Traveling Poet, and UndergroundBooks, and feeding us raw youth on his blog Gatsby's Abandoned Children. With so much passion, so much action and so much drive, surely this is only the beginning for Erie, PA's Jeremiah Walton. Greek movies, Greek honey, Greek yogurt. If it's all Greek to you, then it's time to check out Anthony and Catherine's blog since this week's topic is the ancient Greek theatre. With their focus on history, theatre and literature, Anthony and Catherine's blog will cover at least two major aspects of my historical fiction novel which has the belated Nikos Kazantzakis as one of its main characters. Check their blog every Friday for new posts!