JUST WRITE IT!

It’s getting embarrassing, writing yet another post about my work on the historical fiction about the Armenians who immigrated and settled in Troy, NY, and founded the Protestant Armenian church where I grew up. You would think being retired would allow me to focus entirely on this project. Yet I’ve discovered a multitude of interests and friends in retirement that pull me away from the leisure of writing daily. One of my New Year’s Resolutions was to carve out at least a few hours daily to move my story forward. I’m still trying to make that resolution work. In my defense, I’ve had some health issues, as has my husband, and that combination has taken up too much of my time. But things are looking up now, and I aim to move my story beyond Chapter 13.

Another challenge for me is dealing with names – many of my characters are based very loosely on actual people. Since I don’t know their stories in detail and can’t prove them as factual – and since all of the original church founders are long gone – do I have the right to use actual names or should I create new names for all characters? So far I’ve used real names, but they are in red so I can go back and make changes if/when needed.

I sometimes get bogged down in the details – is it better to just get the story line written and go back later to flesh out descriptions and character personalities? Or will who the individuals are be critical to how the story flows?

I’ve re-written the early chapters multiple times. Should I just stop reading what’s already written until the whole story draft is completed, then go back and flesh it out further?

It hasn’t helped that my time has been pilfered by way too many commitments – some planned, some unexpected but essential.

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it—just like I’m sticking to my commitment to complete this intriguing story. That’s not self-praise. The story of Troy’s early Armenian Protestants really is amazing.

Church members at the groundbreaking of the original Protestant Armenian church in Troy, NY.

I’m making progress on my story about Troy’s Armenians in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, but it is painfully slow. And not from lack of commitment, but rather from new solid gold resources popping up just when I’m settling into the next chapter of the story.

I’ve received all kinds of advice on how to manage this dilemma. The predominant one is just write the story and flesh it out with what is in all the resources later. That’s counterintuitive to me. Up to this point I have stopped when a new resource came to my attention. My reasoning? Many of the resources I’ve tapped up to this point have taken my story – or a chapter of my story – in a different direction that I’ve found valuable. Or a resource could change the tone of even a single chapter or story line. In other words, the new resources have nearly always enriched the story. How could I possibly not give each resource its due.

One recent new set of resources was loaned to me by the priest at the local Armenian Apostolic church, St. Peter’s in Watervliet. Although Searching for Setrik focuses on the Armenians in Troy who founded the protestant Armenian Church, all of the Armenians who settled in the Troy area have stories in common. So examining the experiences that my ancestors had in common beyond the church — as Armenian refugees from their ancestral homeland, as survivors of horrors at the hands of the Turks and Kurds — provides a richer and more comprehensive understanding of their lives, not just their lives within a specific church but also their adapting to life in upstate NYS.

I do have to remind myself periodically that I’m not writing a history book. I’m writing historical fiction. But how can you paint a rich picture of the characters and the settings in the story without having a comprehensive understanding of their lives both in and out of their chosen church?

So I keep pursuing the new angles, absorbing the details of their lives…

And reminding myself that my ultimate goal is to finish the story!

A friend whom I like, respect, and admire has been telling the stories of Armenians–and Armenian Americans–for decades. His knowledge and intimate understanding of the Armenian Americans who came before us, their histories and their lives, far exceeds anything I’ll be able to acquire in my remaining lifetime. His name is Roger Hagopian. Now he has released a video created 15 years ago, and it’s worth a look. In his own words:

“Our Boys is the film that Tom Spera and I put together in 2005-6 interviewing the World War II veterans. We felt that it was long past the time to share this with the public at large. Sincerely, Roger Hagopian.”

OUR BOYS, ARMENIAN-AMERICAN VETERANS OF WORLD WAR II AND THE WOMEN OF THE HOME FRONT – YouTube

Like all of Roger’s videos, this one tells a story focused on the experiences of Armenians and how they recalled them. It also reflects how that generation coped with whatever came their way. Many thanks to all the Armenians and others who stepped up to defend our nation. Those who survived and the family members who kept the home fires burning were role models for generations to come.

Recently I came upon a copy of The Fiction Club, by Mark Spencer, and had to share this gem. The description on Amazon tells the story accurately:

“If you are an aspiring creative writer, this engaging, concise, and informal guide covers all the essentials you need to know. If you’re a veteran writer, it will remind you of basic truths and principles of storytelling you might have lost sight of. Topics include “The Rules of Fiction Club”; “The Importance of Small Details”; showing vs. telling; writing vibrant dialogue; balancing narration and description; structure; plot; pace; point of view, flashbacks; grammar, common usage errors; and more.”

Think you know (and use) all that is needed to create engaging fiction? You might be surprised at all the little things you’ve lost sight of – I know I had.

It’s a quick read and will become a “keep it handy” resource. The author, Mark Spencer, is Dean, School of Arts and Humanities, and Professor of Creative Writing, Master of Fine Arts program, University of Arkansas at Monticello. His website describes his own books – my personal favorite is A Haunted Love Story. Check out Mark and his other works at http://www.authormarkspencer.com/Welcome.html.

For six months or more I have been struggling to make progress on my historical fiction. I tried shutting the door to my office, but my dog whined and scratched until I gave in and opened the door. I tried ignoring the phone when it rang—without success. I turned my cell phone off and found myself distracted by random thoughts of calls I had placed and were the return calls coming in while my phone was off—meaning I’d be off and running on a game of telephone tag.

I’ve read so many articles on ways to focus on my writing. I won’t bore you with all the reasons why they didn’t work for me. We’re all different.

Then my husband made an off-the-wall suggestion. GO TO THE LIBRARY!

I had never even been in our local library. I guess I should be embarrassed by that statement.

I counted off all the reasons why it wouldn’t work:

1. I couldn’t start writing as early as I like because I’d have to wait until the library opened at 9am.
2. I’d expend time driving to and from.
3. I’d have to pay attention to the parking limitations or risk a parking ticket.
4. I’d have to lug so much stuff with me.
5. I wasn’t organized enough to remember everything I’d need to have with me.
6. I’d be abandoning my husband and dog.
7. I’d feel guilty.

I think it was number 7 that swayed me. Why should I feel guilty?

GO TO THE LIBRARY!

I remembered a recent article I read about the positives of writing in a library. That making a habit of going there also made a habit of prioritizing your writing. That a few hours in the tranquility of a library can send you into a zone of productivity. While you’re there, you can live in the world of your novel. No one will talk to you (unless you break a rule – including wearing a mask). People actually respect the silence and each person’s individual workspace.

So I tried it—halfheartedly but I did it. I settled into my chosen nook, plugged my computer in (but did NOT connect to the internet – too much temptation to check email and such), placed my pile of notes next to the computer, and started to write.

Two hours later, only a full bladder brought me back to the real world. I couldn’t believe how much I had accomplished.

Coming up on two weeks later, I’ve written more in that time than I did in the past six months. I went from two hours to three-hour blocks. I’ve only been able to go four times due to other commitments. But I’ve accomplished so much even in the limited time. I need to find parking that isn’t limited to two hours so I can do longer blocks of time without having to move my car every two hours.

Will I maintain my enthusiasm about this new writing plan? Time will tell, but I’m hopeful.

What a simple and obvious solution to my writing dilemma:

GO TO THE LIBRARY!

Over the past couple of years, I’ve posted about my childhood church on multiple occasions. The last one was bittersweet, as it was the first of a few postscripts to the journey I’ve been on: that is, re-acquainting myself with the church and its members, and the miracles that allowed that process to move forward.

And today I’m sharing the near-end game to the physical re-structuring of the church. I visited and was allowed into a couple of the still-vacant apartments. The photos on the website (Gallery – The Chapel Hillside Apartments (thechapeltroy.com) are more attractive and professional than I could take with my phone. But I’m including below some of my own photos that show features that were not in their gallery. Most of the apartments are already rented, so I only had access to two. And there’s a lot of work still to be done externally.

The buyer of the church building was a developer from NYC with a plan to convert the church structure into multiple high-end apartments. The purchase agreement required the buyer to retain the flavor of the church origins of the building, including salvaging as many stained-glass windows as possible, incorporating the ceiling beams, and retaining the historic 1916 cornerstone.

Frankly, I couldn’t picture how that would be possible, while making the apartments comfortable and appealing to renters, regardless of their spiritual leanings. Yet, for the most part, they struck a balance between the old and the new. For example, the arches of the old stained-glass windows and a few of the small ones are visible from the outside, while the actual windows of the apartments are modern and energy efficient. Parts of the arched beams from the sanctuary are incorporated into second floor apartments in the former sanctuary area.

Here are some photos (taken with my phone, not professionally) that show the features not obvious in the gallery photos:

Retained stained glass windows – visible from outside but not inside the apartments:

Stairway to balcony apartment (to be refinished):

Beams from sanctuary ceiling incorporated into apartment (to be refinished):

Cornerstone:

Green space behind former church hall (in progress) – will include barbecue equipment, trees, grass, benches:

The apartments target RPI students, and incorporate basic furniture along with high end countertops and appliances. The website does not list pricing. Shuttle service to and from the RPI campus will be available.

Initially, upon reviewing The Chapel website, I reacted negatively to the description of the building’s history:

“The Chapel was originally constructed in 1916 as a refuge for immigrants seeking shelter from persecution overseas.

The Chapel has been a haven for thousands of people in its 100+ years on 9th street. Today, The Chapel continues to serve the Troy community as contemporary housing for RPI students”.

The description didn’t reflect the drive of the Armenians, as proud Christians since around 300AD, to build a home for their worship and fellowship in their new homeland. And then, to my surprise, there was a link for readers to learn more about the history—taking them to the May 13, 2020 post from this blog!

While it’s still sad that our church is no longer a church, we can be pleased that what our ancestors created over a century ago wasn’t simply discarded and torn down. Instead, it has a new life and a new purpose—and our cornerstone, wooden arches and stained-glass windows will forever be a reminder of its proud beginning. And I can’t help believing that the spirits of our ancestors will watch over the building and its inhabitants.

Two and a half years ago, when I unknowingly began my journey back to my childhood Armenian church before it closed forever, I began experiencing a series of little miracles.

The first miracle was the call that started it all. My elderly cousin interacted periodically with my older sister but had never, that I can recall, contacted me. He called me with a purpose. He was helping another cousin with an ancestry search of our Armenian family, and he had run across a name from our shared grandfather’s generation that he had never heard. Would I see if I could find anything in county records, perhaps in church records, he asked. And so the journey began.

The next miracle was locating the church records. The Armenian church which we attended through my childhood and early adulthood was closed – had not held a service since 2011. And finding them required a couple of mini-miracles. I hadn’t had contact with anyone from the church in decades, so I had no idea who to contact. There was one minister, back in the ‘90s, whom I knew from my years in the Armenian Protestant Youth Fellowship. I had no idea where she was, but I thought if she still was an active minister, I probably could find her online. So mini-miracle number one was finding an email address for her and successfully making contact. She had indeed maintained contact with some of the church members, and let me know who, if anyone, could help me. The church building was for sale, and two brothers had taken on the responsibility for keeping it intact while it was awaiting a buyer. I called one of the brothers, who had no idea where the records were – another member had tried to find them for an ancestry search and had not been successful. But he graciously let me into the church. My first visit (of many, it turned out) to my childhood church was shocking and depressing. It was dirty and smelly and was in total disarray. Something told me to look in the office first—although it seemed likely that the other member had done that. Mini-miracle number two was finding the three volumes of church records almost immediately! I obtained permission to borrow the volumes for a week or two, since I didn’t want to hold up the man who so generously came to the church to let me in. And mini-miracle number three was the effect studying the records had on me—a revival of my positive memories of the church and the people I knew. I felt compelled to write the story of the church, and to give the church and congregation a well-deserved closure.

The next miracle was the surprising ease with which I convinced the “guardians” of the church building to support my desire to hold a closure service before the building was sold. They doubted I could do what was needed. But they gave me support for work I couldn’t do (like getting the lights working and the organ functioning). As word spread, others offered assistance with cleaning and logistics. And the closure service (described in a previous post last fall) was welcomed and well attended even as the COVID pandemic required special care.

I posted previously about the miraculous finding of the church photo of my grandfather.

The latest miracle was a while in coming….

As I pored over the church record books, I was grateful that all of the actual records (births, deaths, etc) were in English. But the priceless narratives that could give me so much insight into the early workings of the church were in what I assumed was Armenian. I searched and searched for someone who could translate—but the writing wasn’t really in Armenian. Armenian letters were used, for the most part, but the words were not Armenian. Nor could Turkish sources translate it. We sent samples to a woman and her father in Armenia, and they couldn’t read it. And finally samples were sent to a linguistics expert who concurred that it was a combination of languages and alphabets, and might even have some Arabic in there. I gave up. The contents of the writing of the narrative entries of the church records would remain a mystery. Until this past week, that is! A woman contacted me about a photo I had, and coincidentally mentioned another woman who translated Armenian, Turkish, and a few other languages. I wasn’t hopeful, but I sent this woman some sample pages.

So, the latest miracle, and possibly one of the most exciting: she was able and willing to do the translating! At last, I may learn the inner workings of the church in its early years.

Writing this story was meant to happen. I’m convinced of that by the sheer number of miracles that have stripped away one obstacle after another.