What's In A Name? ... A Lot Actually...

The last name, or the surname, as the Brits say.  It says quite a lot about a person.  Not the same as a first name.  First names can be a dime a dozen (or a pence a dozen...hmm, doesn't quite work for the GBP 10p equivalent...but I digress).  Take Allison - I like it, but it's rather common.  There were two Alli/ysons in my high school choir and two more in my college sorority, and I became friends with them all!

No, a last name is special - even if there are similar ones out there, they are fewer and father between.  It's a family signifier.  And I've always loved my name.  Allison Zink.  A to Z.  Alpha and Omega...like God.  Well, I'm clearly not really like God, but you get the idea!  It has a certain strength to it because it has the beginning and the end all rolled up into two awesome initials.  Maybe my perspective is shadowed by arrogance, but I like to think it's more from self-confidence (thanks, Mom and Dad, for fostering positive self-esteem) that I feel my name has power.

Zink has certain inherited family traits - like the infamous "Zink jokes" (typified by cringe-y, eye-rolling humor), the ever glorious "Zink nose" (which I immortalized in a personification essay my freshman year at Alma) and of course the quite intangible but ever-present strong family bond we all (and this extends to all those Dromowiczes too) take pride in - just take a look at the last entry I wrote in this blog for an example.

"Zink" has a reputation.  Growing up, my name became my little champion of my childhood achievements - piano recitals, figure skating competitions, academic awards - there my name stood in those lists and certificates of accomplishments.  Zink is short, succinct, with the capacity for funny chemistry jokes (Zinc, anyone) and the perfect combination of open vowel and harsh consonant to resonate across a pool (only student referred to by last name in swim class).  And, I was always last alphabetically...always...which garnered the most cheers at high school graduation (might have been for me, or the fact that the super long ceremony was finally over - hard to tell :P ).

Zink also took me through both my BA and MA degrees - all my coursework, dissertations, internships, straight to my publishing career.  It's easy to spell and easy to remember - very sales-y - a good name to do with business with.

The Dick van Dyke Show: "What's In A Name" Season 2, Episode 7

It became a sing-song-y refrain for leaving my contact details on sales calls:

"That's Allison Zink:  A - double L - I-S-O-N.  Z as in Zebra (pronounced Zee-bra in the US then updated to Zeh-bra for the UK) I-N-K."

I had established Allison Zink, full grown adult with independent life.

Then marriage.

Marriage made me take another look at my name.

Zink features at the start of my relationship with Callum.  He'd call me Zink as a nickname.  He'd sing silly made-up songs to me with Zink in it (and still does :) ) - so many words rhyme with Zink...pink, sink, link, etc......a bit tougher with McCormack....McCormack...McCor....back?

Don't get me wrong, I really like McCormack.  It's a great name.  Scottish - no doubt about that, I like its strong heritage.  (No McCormack tartan though...Alma College's will have to do!)  But it really made me think.  I knew that I did want to have a "family name" that displayed plainly my new union with Callum and to have that common name when we start a family of our own - I felt very strongly about that.  But while taking your husband's last name is a wonderful way to create that family unit, the prospect of changing my name to Allison McCormack did, in a way, put my identity into question.

Not in a "WHO AM I.....MUST GO OFF AND COMMUNE WITH NATURE TO FIND MYSELF!!!" sort of way.

But like....the everyday things....new initials....A.M.  Like a clock....I'm not a morning person.  And what happens to all my "Zink"stuff....how would people know that Allison Zink and Allison McCormack are, in fact, the same person!  Would my customers be confused, would my academic achievements feel like they were accomplished by the "before me"...the "pre-McCormack" me?  Sure, yes, I know, people catch on, you just tell them, and update your bills and all your documentation and it's not a big deal.  But no mention of Zink in my name felt odd - like I was erasing my former single life, a life I worked so hard to create for myself independently, before entering a new, albeit exciting and much wanted, married life.  Did my two identities need to be so definitively divided?

I contemplated double-barrelling my name (that's hyphenated for all you US folks).  Zink-McCormack...did that have too many hard K sounds in it?  Kkkkk....like a train sputtering out of a station?

At first I thought so - I thought...Zink-McCormack....too long, too clunky, too complicated.  People like simple - from forms to phone calls, I feared confusion and thought ease of use for my name was imperative.  And that left me no choice but to use McCormack.

So I tried it - I put just McCormack on my phone bill at first.

It was weird.

Then, I created my list of ALL the things that would need updating...credit card, bank account, pension......visa.......

MY VISA (also see "thorn in my side," "pain in the butt," and "red tape")

My visa put a stop to my full conversion.  Visas cannot be easily updated mid-cycle.  You'd essentially have to re-apply, pay the extortionate fee again, and not be able to travel out of the country while waiting - and oh, the application is via post so it would be as slow as snails.  From a practical stand-point, it was better to wait until my visa needed to be renewed (which was in Jan. 2019), then change it and my passport (because they have to match) all at the same time.

Plus, at this time, we had just moved to Norwich shortly after our wedding and I had a new job, which I had applied for using Zink because my payslips needed to match my visa for my right to work.

So I began this "dual identity" life - Zink at work by day, and...well...to be honest, I avoided changing my name for much else straight away.  I didn't know what to do.  The visa was on my mind.  I feared that with the bureaucracy that is the Home Office, they wouldn't easily link my residency status to me when I renewed my visa if Zink were not in my name.  I also didn't like the idea of yet another personal life choice being impacted by the UK government.  But, I was still not sold on just McCormack either.  After much "on-the-other-hand-ing," I decided that I wanted Zink to still be in my full legal name - I felt too attached to Zink to leave it behind personally and the clarity for the visa was a peace-of-mind perk.  So I started putting both Zink and McCormack on things, marking the official start of using my married name and building up documents for my visa application along the way.

Allison Zink McCormack

No hyphen.  These were independent names, so they should stand independently.  Celebrities do it....Candace Cameron Bure, Beyonce Knowles Carter....if they can with big profile careers, then I can, right?

Weeeeellll....being grammar obsessed, I started analysing...what if people thought Zink was my middle name?  And this did happen.  I ordered theatre tickets and they were filed under "M" for McCormack at reception because it wasn't clear that "Zink" was part of the surname too.  I was also addressed as just "Zink," like it was my first name, when I called with a question on my train tickets account.  It bugged me.  No - punctuation was needed to rescue this situation.....this calls for a hyphen!

At this point, the too-long length and kuh-k sounds of Zink-McCormack seemed to fade - it suddenly sounded fine....it flowed even.  Zink-McCormack wasn't clunky.  It was German discipline and Scottish pride tied together.  And if I liked using both Zink and McCormack during this interim period for my married name, imposed on me by the visa, then maybe....just maybe....this is what I was looking for all along.

Allison Zink-McCormack: scholar, sales executive.....and wife!

Zink-McCormack, for me, strikes that perfect balance to my identity.  I have now updated my passport and visa with this name, and being coupled together legally allows me to use each bit for different purposes.

Zink is still my professional name.  All legal documents are Zink-McCormack, but to colleagues and customers, I'm Allison Zink.  It honors where I came from and the career I've built.

Independently, on bills, individual correspondence, social media, day-to-day life, etc., I am Allison Zink-McCormack.  It showcases my personal life.

And when it comes to Callum and I as a couple, we are referred to as "Callum and Allison McCormack" and I can see "Mrs. McCormack" becoming more of my identity when we start our own family.

This name change was complicated.  This name change was unexpectedly impactful.  This name change was nearly 2 years in the making (and I still have a few outstanding things left to convert in the US).  But this name change now feels right.

Allison Zink-McCormack - that's me.

From the Motor City to the Windy City

Six hours in a truck.

Six hours in a truck pulling a trailer.

Funny how my whole life can fit in an 5 x 8 U-haul. Yet, it does. And my life and I were cruising from Detroit to Chicago to start...what was I starting?

I'm quickly learning that adulthood does not have the nice neat deadlines of student-life. There are no hard and fast expectations, no tried and true structure, no guidance whatsoever. There is no four-year plan. This is life. Sure, now I have freedom: the freedom to pursue my career goals, to take on personally fulfilling projects, to decide what my next choices will be without the limitations of school schedules or assignment obligations. And the idea of being free to work, travel, and live as I had envisioned I could in college is still alive and well--I know I can get to that point eventually. But the vastness that is choice and potential is overwhelming until you find a little foothold in reality you can work with.

So, here's my foot...smack dab in the middle of Chicago's door jamb.

But before I could get my career-starting shoes even so much as scuffed, I had to get myself to Chicago. 

Being a Zink means you inherit many different qualities, like the distinguished Zink nose, the cringe-worthy Zink sense of humor, but most importantly, you inherit a great big group of people willing to help you however they can. This last one came in handy when the clan found out I was moving to Chicago. Not one, not two, but a whopping total of eight family members all signed on to the road-trip.

The Moving Crew

Mostly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, we all set out for Chicago in two cars early on a Saturday morning. And quite frankly, the first third of the trip went off without a hitch. That is, until we tried to cross out of Michigan. As we approached the Indiana state border, my home state suddenly decided to bestow on me a very Michigan-esque going-away gift: a random sleet storm. That's right. Last week of September, still as warm and breezy as can be, and a sudden slushing surrounds our cars and provides a thin sheet of ice for our driving pleasure. Luckily, it only lasted 20 minutes or so before the sun poked its head out of the clouds and dried everything up again. Leave it to my home state to throw in one last stunt of crazy Michigan-weather before I change zip codes. It was pretty smooth sailing until we were an hour outside of Chicago when our second car picked up a nail somewhere and got a flat tire. Because the truck and trailer were leading the way, we pulled over into the Skyway's McDonald's to wait for my other relatives. But this was no ordinary McDonald's. It was a mere wedge of parking lot and restaurant perched between on-coming traffic in both directions--not exactly an ideal location for a Ford F-150 and a U-Haul. Yet there we parked, most likely infuriating ever single driver to come within 5 feet of our vehicle blocking half the drive. But luckily, the flat was fixed quickly and we were on our way again. After battling the infamous Chicago traffic...

I couldn't believe the sheer volume of cars on the road.  I thought London would have
prepared me for the busy-ness, but I was wrong!  Chicago is much more congested!

...we finally pulled onto my new home street. This is when my eight family members really came in handy. We unloaded and unpacked essentials in only a couple of hours. By all other moving accounts, I couldn't have asked for a better transition.

Ta Da!  All done!

That evening, we went out for some Chicago pizza--it only seemed appropriate--and the following morning, most of my aunts and uncles returned to Michigan for their own jobs. My immediate family stayed with me an extra day and we did a bit of the tourist scene at Shedd Aquarium, then later when just my Mom was still in the city, we further unpacked my studio and scouted out the nearby shops. By the end of my first week, I was very much settled into my apartment and ready to start work at my internship.

So, what am I starting exactly? Well, I'm not quite sure there is a label for this stage of life. But I do know that I am starting something that I can put a lot of my "sole" into.

The Cliff Notes Version

If you, the reader, have been following my blog in chronological order, you'll have noticed that I went from writing about once a week to allowing a whole month to pass without a new post. This is because within the last month, I acquired an internship out of state and as a result, used the past month to organize my move--and let me tell you, it took nearly that whole month! I am now settled into my new studio apartment and am working on becoming re-dedicated to my writing here. As this is my first full week of big-kid job hours, I'm going to keep this post brief. The internship is with Independent Publishers Group in Chicago, IL and I'm a rotating intern, meaning that I work through all their departments on a changing monthly schedule. The internship is a solid four months, which is a great amount of experience and will hopefully lead to something more permanent. So personally, this position is a good foot-in-the-door into the publishing industry and I'm learning and working productively while I continue my job search--a rather complimentary situation. Professionally, IPG is a wonderful place to work. Check out their website www.ipgbook.com to get a feel for the types of books their distribute and the various imprints that publish their own works. I'm currently working primarily with their e-books department, IT, and the Chicago Review Press, a non-fiction publisher. From even just my first two days working, I can already tell I'll be learning much about the publishing industry. As I continue to settle into the Chicago, I'll continue to compile my experiences in city and at IPG--but for now, here's the cliff notes version.

Summer Reading

For the past two weeks, I have been indulging my summer reading list, collecting books from the library in bunches and reading them simultaneously as certain literary moods strike me.  This multi-tasking style of reading is new to me--I tend to like reading one novel at a time before moving on to a new one.  But this summer, sometimes I can't read something like Jubilee right before bed so I need to move on to something more fictional such as The Angel's Game or I really crave good classic writing found in Emma Brown while at other times I want to re-acquaint myself with a challenge like Ulysses.  But most recently, I've finished up reading Winter Journey by Jaume Cabré.

The first short story immediately caught my attention.  Entitled "Opus Postum," this story follows pianist Pere Bros and his self-struggle with performance, worth, and music.  I was captivated by Cabrés ability to embed musicality into his very writing style--something that I've always admired in an author.  As a modest musician myself, I've not only experimented with the symbiotic influences shared between music and literature in my own writing, but have also dedicated much my BA degree to studying their mutual impacts.  When I shared a few initial insights with David Rade (Editor-in-Chief of Swan Isle Press, the publisher of Winter Journey), he recommended a link to an interview with Jaume Cabré where he elaborates on his motivations and inspirations for Winter Journey:



I took particular interest in Cabré's discussion of creating concrete sensations in the reader.  The term "sensation" is a pivotal descriptor.  It is very different from emotion, tone, feeling, etc.  Sensation derives from a much more instinctual level of reading--that first impression to a character or situation.  It's very easy to rely on archetypes to develop a certain emotion or tone--my go-to example is always how a "dark and stormy night" sets up an eerie plot.  In contrast, focusing on sensations presents rather than represents a scene.  Emotions become tangible, characters more authentic, the writer's voice more clear to the reader.

Cabré also emphasizes the use of detail to relate his series of short stories to one another, creating a complex whole.  This technique--taking snippets of narrative in different time periods, different places, with different people and forming them into a novel--reminds me of my work in studying Ulysses for my senior thesis.  (You can find a copy on my LinkedIn profile in the documents section here: http://www.linkedin.com/pub/allison-zink/46/638/5b8).  While Winter Journey is not written in the more densely modernist style of Joyce, it does share a few structural and thematic qualities.  Like Ulysses, each chapter of Winter Journey can be read as an independent story but also fits as a piece of a whole.  Schubert's "Winter Journey" and the poetry of Wilhem Muller by the same title, (on which Schubert based his piece) serve as one of the unifying themes throughout the Cabré's novel, similar to Joyce's use of music as writing structure in the Sirens episode.

Different expressions of art often overlap, spill over, and influence other other mediums.  In this novel, music and poetry inspire the contemplative tone on the state of humanity.  That sounds like a very big topic to tackle for a comparatively short novel!  But I found that it isn't really the novel's job to solve such quandaries.  Rather, Winter Journey provides a bit of perspective.  As Cabré discusses in his interview, "It's a cry of alert, 'careful, careful,' for it takes a great effort for humanity to be humane."  Art has something that makes us feel better yet we just can't explain.  That sensation inspires hope: a measure of understanding and reminder for improvement for humanity.

Have I caught your interest?  You can find a copy of Jaume Cabré's Winter Journey for yourself here:  http://www.swanislepress.com/intro.html#winterjourney

A Dark and Stormy Night

The metro Detroit area has been blistering under the 3-digit temperatures these past couple of weeks--the sun so warm and air so thick you'd think you were walking through a blast furnace.  But in true Michigan weather form, if you wait one hot second, that sticky air clouds up and turns dark for a thoroughly quenching thunderstorm.

One such thunderstorm rolled into my little lake-side city recently.  It was night--I had been asleep for a few hours before strong torrents of rain began pelting my bedroom windows.  Still in that half-cognitive sleepy state, I kept a light ear to the sound.  I happen to like thunderstorms, particularly at night.  That pitter-patter of raindrops soothes away any busy, wandering thoughts.  Then a low grumble of thunder accompanied by a lightning clap zig-zagging across the sky filled my room.  I snuggled down further into my bed and had just reached the threshold of deeper sleep when a loud buzz culminating in a static-y zap awoke me in time to see electric spit-fire through the trees and my digital clock's digits grow dim--our block's transformer had blew.

Soon after, I heard a long squeak and a pattern of creaks emanating through the hall, those familiar sounds registering as my brother's squeaking door and parents' creaking footsteps down our wooden stairs--everyone was up.  As I wandered downstairs, white light beamed across the kitchen.  I nodded to everyone that I was okay and continued down to the basement, my dead flashlight in hand.

Now, my basement is one part my dad's business, one part standard creepy basement--and in the dark, the creepy basement is the more prominent part!  I ventured gingerly down the steps, peering under the ceiling as I descended.  It was completely pitch dark; the kind of dark where you wonder if you should even bother keeping your eyes open.  Dodging around all my dad's equipment, I reached the shelves where he kept extra batteries.  I grabbed a couple, too aware of my invisibility in the darkness, and rushed back up to my parents.

Up and about with my working flashlight, I felt fully awake.  So I decided to grab an old stand-by book: a Nancy Drew Mystery.  My mom is a collector--not in the monetary sense, but rather as a dedicated fan.  An entire column of a bookshelf in our sun room houses nearly all books from the Nancy Drew series.  I grew up on these books and still love reading the simple yet admirable stories.  I went straight for my favorite, The Hidden Staircase, and curled back into my quilt to read by flashlight--as if I were transported back to my 4th grade self.

Since beginning my job search in publishing, I've acquire the habit of reading the publishers page first.  Flipping through the first couple of pages, I recognized the publisher--Applewood Books (Check it out here: http://applewoodbooks.com/) and it was only then that I realized I had picked up the reprinted original edition of this first Nancy Drew book.  I hadn't actually read through this version before so I decided to start with the prologue, written by Nancy Drew fan and fellow mystery writer Nancy Pickard.

I thoroughly enjoyed her insights into the series.  Written in the 1930s, the original Nancy Drew books by today's modern societal views are not very politically correct, featuring the stereotypical white Christian patriarchal-esque American family, references to African Americans with dated names, etc.  However, Pickard clarifies that while some aspects of the series are better left to rest, the essence of Nancy Drew's spirit provides an unparalleled relateable female role model for young girls.


I hit my Nancy Drew phase in 4th grade.  I was thoroughly invested in her character.  I loved her spunk, her witticisms, and even her unrealistic, too-perfect circumstances in which she found herself.  Just good, old fashioned who-done-its without the Criminal Minds creepy factor or CSI gore.  As an English major, my fascination with diction reached new heights as I re-discovered the very staged but yet sincere dialogues between Nancy and her friends and family.  I honestly think her knack for using words like "nonplussed" and using formal sentence structure in every day conversations inspired my love and study of diction.  Even the extremely detailed background thoughts about Nancy's mood are full of didactic descriptions.  I love that Applewood Books has continued to provide these experiences with their genre niche in historic American Literature.