Letter 40: October 6, 2008
Well. I didn't want to say so at the time for a variety of reasons, some rational, some maybe superstitious but it would be unlucky to talk about that, and some just hard to state clearly: but I can say now that Monica and I just got back from spending ten marvelous days in Cyprus celebrating a beautiful family occasion.
It's a very long way from here. Even though I was born in the Old World and live now in some other world, I've never crossed so many time zones. Much of Cyprus is not beautiful, and all of Cyprus (like any other small infertile country) has been interfered with by the hand of mankind. But I loved visiting hill villages with names like Aphasia (or maybe not like that, I can't tell) and above all I loved the people.
Years ago, visiting south Wales, I remember all the shop assistants waiting for me to speak first. It's a courtesy, because the visitor gets to choose whether to speak Welsh or English. I'd been told that in Greece, too, they let the stranger speak first. Turns out that in Cyprus (which is not part of Greece) they don't do that, because it would be a waste of time. Those who say anything say hello in English. They know most visitors haven't enough courtesy even to learn the Greek for "hi". Yet if you do make just that tiny effort, they respond so warmly and help you to learn more.
The power of language. The power of the right word to make a difference. The exact difference you want. Just saying good morning ("kalimera") changes everything. As it does when fictional characters talk the way they would talk.
Although I knew or believed that Greek is the oldest living language on that planet I'd never really understood what it would feel like to be in a Greek-speaking country, and to live inside that language. To walk among people who think demos and polis are just words.
Also, to sample Commandaria, the oldest named wine in the world. (There was going to be an overcomplicated bilingual pun here about democracy and sampling wine. Work it out for yourselves, please. The Greek word for wine is krasi...)
In the past I've written a fair amount about the motivation of writing, and particularly about the different effects of intrinsic and extrinsic motivators. Don't make me go into it today. In short, it's widely (but not universally) believed that extrinsic motivations (reward, encouragement, praise) are usually unhelpful to creative activity and that intrinsic motivators (you want to create) are what you need.
It was Aristotle who first distinguished intrinsic motivation from extrinsic. He said that some actions are ends in themselves, and others are means to ends. 2,500 years ago the word for "end" was telos. From that, modern psychology researchers have made up words like autotelic, paratelic, exotelic and more to describe these two kinds of activities.
In Cyprus in 2008, when you come to the end of the motorway the sign says telos. It blows me away to think that when Aristotle talked about means and ends he used that same ordinary everyday word and he literally meant the end of something. That you follow an activity until you reach the end of it. That reaching the end of an effective action is the very same as achieving your goal. Exactly like walking to a destination. I've often described creative behavior as a journey, and here is the same metaphor in a book from millennia ago.
So something you can try today is to pause and make sure you know where you're headed, and then to write with purpose. For, as always, my end in writing these letters is to help you reach the end of your writing.
The End.
David
David Jung McGarva
+1 (818) 707 1871
Write me: david at todayiwrite dot com
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