In this series of insightful interviews, I had the pleasure of delving deeper into two of my nonfiction pieces. Journey to Ithaca and Flitzani are windows into my world, revealing layers of personal experiences and the influence of heritage.
Journey to Ithaca is a piece close to my heart, inspired by my father's courageous journey across the Mediterranean. It was a tale I grew up hearing, a story that shaped the course of his life towards Canada. Translating this powerful narrative into creative nonfiction became a way to honor his memory, capturing not just the physical challenges but also the profound emotional journey he undertook.
In Flitzani, I played with the technique of dramatic irony to heighten the tension. It's a literary tool that adds an extra layer of intrigue, allowing readers to anticipate outcomes that seem improbable to the narrator. With this deliberate contrast between the immediate situation and the forthcoming resolution, I hoped to build suspense and underscore the implications of the narrative.
Familial history and heritage have been instrumental in shaping my writing, both in nonfiction and beyond. The dynamic between the culture I absorbed at school and the one my newcomer parents nurtured at home forged my identity as both a person and a writer. As I learned more about my family's stories and explored the landscapes of Crete during summer vacations, I discovered a unique perspective and narrative voice.
Now, I take great pride in transporting readers to rarely visited, culturally rich places through my nonfiction work. It's a testament to the belief that writing steeped in a specific cultural lens can resonate universally, and a reminder that diversity in storytelling should be celebrated.
Writing flash nonfiction brings its own set of joys and challenges. I enjoy the process of distilling personal stories into concise narratives that hint at larger, universal truths. However, there's a weight of responsibility that comes with telling stories, especially those involving cherished loved ones. It's a privilege to give voice to those who may no longer have one and to share narratives that might otherwise remain untold.
Contributor Spotlight: Interview with Sofia Martimianakis
Rappahannock Review Nonfiction Editors: Journey to Ithaca is about a harrowing, life-changing experience of yours. What was your process in crafting the piece to balance emotion and action?
Sofia Martimianakis: Journey to Ithaca is a story I heard many times growing up. My father attributed his harrowing experience in the Mediterranean Sea as the event that set him on course for Canada. It's a story that holds a lot of significance for my family and with my father no longer alive to tell it, I felt compelled to write a creative nonfiction piece about his life-changing experience. While crafting Journey to Ithaca, I kept in mind that my father's experience was as much of an emotional journey as it was a physical trial. I tried to capture the betrayal he felt when his island began to close in on him, despite his best efforts to be present in the moment and to integrate with his community. My father was a captivating storyteller, which I chose to honour through first-person narration; I think it was the best narrative style to bring the action scene to life and help transport the reader into unchartered waters.
RR: Flitzani contains a good amount of dramatic irony. Can you expand on how you used this to heighten the tension throughout the piece?
SM: I utilized dramatic irony to generate curiosity and sustain the interest level of the reader. Right from the opening sentence, the reader is privy to information that increases their anticipation of an outcome considered improbable by the narrator. By creating a contrast between the immediate situation and the resolution to follow, I was able to heighten the suspense while I set up the implications of the resolution.
RR: Heritage plays a clear role in both Flitzani and Journey to Ithaca. How has familial history shaped your writing, nonfiction and otherwise?
SM: The tensions I experienced as a child, between the culture I was immersed in at school and the culture my immigrant parents fostered at home shaped my identity as both a person and a writer. As I learned more about my familial history, through stories and summer vacations to Crete, I began to realize my heritage and upbringing gave me a unique perspective and narrative voice. Now I take pride in taking readers to beautiful places, rarely visited by tourists, through my nonfiction work. I aim to show that writing from a specific cultural perspective can still have a universal impact, which is one of the many reasons I believe diversity should be celebrated.
RR: We understand that you're working on your first novel. How different has that process been so far from writing nonfiction?
SM: Interestingly, the fantasy adventure novel I'm currently working on explores themes also present in my nonfiction work. My protagonist's struggle to define herself after discovering shocking details about her family history is influenced by my experience of being raised Greek in Canada. I've been enjoying the experience so far, especially the world building aspect of writing fantasy. Instead of focussing on realistically portraying a location like I do in my nonfiction work, this is my chance to flex my creativity and explore real-world themes in a setting with warring elf factions, giants, and sorcerers. One thing that has helped me transition into writing a longer project is setting realistic weekly goals for myself and resisting the urge to edit each chapter extensively before finishing the first draft of my manuscript.
RR: What is your favorite part about writing flash nonfiction? What is the most challenging part?
SM: The best part of writing flash nonfiction is discovering how even a short personal story can hint at a larger universal concept. The most challenging part is the pressure to do a story justice, especially when I'm writing about an experience that happened to a loved one. What I try to keep in mind is that it's a privilege to be able to speak for those who no longer have a voice and to tell stories that would otherwise remain untold.
Sofia Martimianakis' work in Issue 6.2: Journey to Ithaca and Flitzani.