Took my first roadtrip in my MINI. Image from Pinterest.
I took my first road trip in my MINI on Friday. About 3 hours into the trip, I got a terrible feeling of dread. I was going to my first literary conference and in the words of the Grinch, it felt like “a wonderful, awful idea”. I heard myself say things like “you should really stick with nonfiction” and “you’re not the least bit literary when it comes to writing” and the infamous “who do you think you are?”. I had to have a Moonstruck moment and will myself to snap out of it. I was driving my MINI Cooper on a sun-filled day as a full-time writer to spend the day surrounded by other inspiring full-time writers. Dread, please move along. Today you don’t get to stay. I know you’ll be back, uninvited, probably in about an hour, but right now you’ve got to leave. “Keep going,” I told myself. “You’re getting there.” And I did.
NaNoWriMo update: 15,000+ words into my novel, Where the Light Enters, and Emerson’s life is being turned upside down, one revelation at a time. Here’s a snippet of Scene 6:
The title page said only, “Properties of Light.” No author. No date. Notes filled the margins of nearly every page in Emerson’s new book. Despite her hopes, Emerson quickly recognized that the handwriting didn’t match her mother’s. Someone else had annotated this volume with their thoughts and ideas. Most of them were questions in small, neat print. “How can we transform light into mass?” “How do we bend light into a right angle?” It was always a matter of how, not if.
The streets, now quiet, are about to be flooded with danger
I’m back to my usual writing pattern as of today and it feels great. I’ve missed my groove over the past few days. Here’s a glimpse of scene 5 of my novel. Jasper and Oliver meet to discuss what happens now that they know Cassandra has them in her sights. She is on the hunt and they have to play defense.
“Oliver, I’m every bit as surprised as you are,” said Jasper.
“No one’s seen her since…” Oliver’s voice stopped short as he paced in the rare book room of Stargrass.
“I know. It appears she’s been hard at work, rebuilding, all this time,” said Jasper
“Rebuilding what?” asked Oliver.
“Herself. And I suspect others, too. She’s a jumble of parts. Some human. Mostly mechanical.”
“Where’s she hiding, Jasper? And who’s helping her? She can’t be doing this alone.”
Inspiring, encouraging, supportive. That’s the three words that immediately pop into my mind when I reflect on my two days covering YALLFest—Charleston’s Young Adult Book Festival. I’m grateful for the opportunity to learn from the amazing authors, editors, and agents that gave generously of their time and experience.
You can see my articles on my experience on the YALLFest blog—http://yallfest.org/press/. A few more will be posted during the early part of next week. Back to writing…
It’s a common human instinct to shelter ourselves from pain. However, sometimes the shortest route to healing involves opening up to our community rather than shutting down. In this spirit, I’d like you to meet Samuel, the owner of The Crooked Willow Cafe, in this excerpt from Chapter 4 of my novel Where the Light Enters. Comments and feedback are welcomed and appreciated.
The Crooked Willow Cafe was aptly named for the towering Willow Tree with a crooked trunk that dominated the center of the room. It was covered with twisted vines and surrounded by a shallow ring of running water. Samuel Nayra, the owner of the cafe, hung a simple hand lettered sign on it that read: “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. ~ Kahil Gabran”
Samuel trimmed the new shoots from the trunk as made his rounds to greet everyone with his signature wide smile and bear hugs. “How far he had come in the past 5 years,” Skyar thought. “This tree gave him a new lease on life in every way.”
After his only son, David, died, Samuel fell into a deep depression. His depression was so severe that he checked into a hospital. In the hospital, he learned about the stages of grief and came across a legend that stated a Willow Tree provides protection and healing from loss to the person who cares for it.
After his recovery, Samuel returned home and immediately planted a young Willow branch in his backyard. It took root and within weeks it was growing at an alarming rate. Samuel attributes the wild growth to David’s spirit that he believes lives within the tree. Rather than keeping the comfort he experienced in the shade of the tree to himself, he built the cafe around it. Samuel’s famous for saying, “We’re all healing from something.”
He lined the tree with strings of white Christmas lights. At night when the cafe closed, he plugged in the thousands of small Christmas lights so the tree remained completely illuminated in the darkness. Samuel knew firsthand that the hardest hours for grief are at night. Every night there would always be at least a handful of people who could be found staring at the tree through the cafe windows. Some would bring their tears. Others had nothing left except that blank stare of deep and abiding loss. Samuel kept the lights burning for them so that they would know they were never really alone.
I have a lot of friends who are very disappointed in the outcome of the elections on the state and national level. I am, too, though I can’t be glum because I know this truth: we are the ones who steer our ships. There’s no doubt that our government has an impact on our daily lives. However, we are the ones in control of most of our routines and choices. We vote every day with our wallets and our actions. Elections, and leaders, come and go. Most of our lives are composed of small moments that we decide to have or not have. What’s important is what we do now, and how much we support others in their pursuit of the lives they want to live.
And with that, here’s the intro to Chapter 3 of my novel which is especially appropriate in this time of elections. Emerson and Skylar make their way through the howling wind to The Crooked Willow Cafe—a bit of shelter in the storm.
Skylar, Emerson, and Friday braced against the wind. The harder the wind blew, the closer Skylar and Friday encircled Emerson.
“Who was that woman, Skylar?” asked Emerson into the wind.
“What?”
“Who was that…”
“I can’t hear you.”
The wind was howling now. Trash cans toppled and rolled into the street. Skylar steered Emerson and Friday toward the golden light in the center of the block. Skylar pulled at the door and several burly men stood up from their tables to help her open it. The wind shoved them all into the warmth of The Crooked Willow Cafe.
“I thought we were going right home,” said Emerson.
“And miss our snack?” said Skylar. Her eyes twinkled and it was easy to see how she and Jasper were related.
They settled into their favorite table in the corner by the immense stone fireplace. Friday laid down in his usual warm spot on the hearth. Emerson looked at Skylar with piercing eyes. Skylar tapped the table; The quote etched into it read, ‘I am a willow of the wilderness, Loving the wind that bent me. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson’
“All sorrows can be borne if you put them into a story.” ~Karen Blixen
There’s a fire scene in my novel, Where the Light Enters. It is based on my fire experience 5 years ago. I almost got trapped in the building and lost nearly all of my belongings. There was no fire escape and to the best of my knowledge the alarms and sprinklers didn’t work. I wrote that passage yesterday. At one point my hands shook and my stomach felt sick. But the scene breathes. It crackles, and that’s exactly what I wanted. And once it was over, I felt free; I hope people who have been in a similar situation will read it and feel free, too.
Below is a snippet from Chapter 2. In it you’ll meet Oliver Page, Emerson’s dad, and learn about his uncommon career and a suspicious contact.
“Oliver Page failed his wife, Nora, when she needed him most. As he swiped, tapped, and repositioned images and pieces of text on his touch screen wall, he often felt her working through him. Or at least he felt her try.
In his 25 years as a storied forensic linguist, he’d never had this many dead end leads. Ransom demands, literary forgeries, hostage negotiations, suicide notes. He had cracked the most gruesome cold cases and brought order to legal complications held up in courts for years.
So much for his education pedigree and the accolades that tiled his walls. If he couldn’t vindicate her death and give it meaning, he was a failure.”
Here is Chapter 1 in its entirety along with a picture of the antagonist, Cassandra, who makes her presence known. As always, all feedback is welcomed, encouraged, and appreciated.
Books whispered their secrets to Emerson Page. She ran her hands over their covers and felt them breathe. When she stepped inside the rare book section of Stargrass Paper & Books, long-dead authors rolled out the red carpet for her—a new exuberant audience of one.
She descended the gleaming staircase and felt the glow of the warm lights enter her heart. The bookcases cradled books of all shapes, sizes, and colors as they wound their way up toward the sky. Emerson was certain they would take her toward heaven if not for enormous Tiffany glass skylight that capped the room. Stargrass was Oz for book lovers like her. Here, she was home.
One small volume with an intricately carved cover caught her eye. Emerson adjusted the thick frame of her glasses and concentrated on it. She couldn’t remember ever seeing it before. It was just below a sign that had one of her favorite quotes scrawled across it: “If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. ~Albert Einstein” She strummed its gold tipped pages and caught a startling flutter of her mother’s scent—the rich smell of vanilla and cinnamon.
“Hello, new friend,” she said. Her smile beamed, her eyes widened, and her mind opened to its possibilities.
“Your mother loved that one, too, when she was your age,” said Jasper Peacock as he re-shelved an oversized book. Friday, Emerson’s dog who was dozing in the corner, immediately stood at attention with his ‘service dog’ bandana slightly askew.
“So you’re Nora and Oliver’s daughter,” said the woman standing next to Jasper. Emerson recognized her from the neighborhood and in her mind nicknamed her ‘the old lady who dances everywhere’.
“Emerson, this is an old friend of mine,” said Jasper. “Emerson Page please meet Irene Dorchester.” Irene extended her hand to Emerson.
“You knew my mother?” she asked Irene. Emerson noticed Irene’s eyeglasses had a handle on them that she used to hold them to her eyes. There was a small red light located in the upper right corner of the right lens.
“From the time she was born. Your mother was a remarkable young woman. Still is.” The small red light of Irene’s glasses pulsed like a laser.
“Where did you get those glasses?”
“So intriguing,” Irene said peering more intently at Emerson through her glasses. “What a lucky combination to have your mother’s heart and your father’s mind.”
“Truman made these for Irene,” said Jasper. “One of his many inventions that take something very old and make it better than anything new.”
“And that includes old ladies like me!” Irene and Jasper laughed. Emerson admired people who could laugh at themselves.
“Irene,” said Jasper. “I’ll let you know what my contacts find. That book is going to be tough to find, but we’ll get it. It will take us a bit of time.”
“Doesn’t everything?” she said. “Emerson, it was a pleasure to finally meet you. If I were you, I’d commit that book in your hand to memory. It will serve you well.” Irene glided up the stairs and out through the front door.
“Jasper, how do you know her?” asked Emerson.
“Irene and I went to school together so you can imagine how long we’ve been friends,” he said as he took hold of the mala beads he always wore around his neck. “She’s a gifted doctor and a voracious reader of ancient medical texts. I’ve never heard of ailment she can’t fix. Once when I was very ill, she gave these mala beads to me along with a daily meditation. And would you believe I’ve never been sick since?”
“How’s that possible?”
“Everything’s possible, Emerson. But not everything is probable. We all need a touch of luck from time to time.”
“Even you?” asked Emerson.
“Especially me,” he said.
“How did she know my mother?”
“Your mother was known and loved by so many people, Emerson. Irene’s right—you do have her heart. And her curiosity.”
“What did she mean about this book’s…”
The church bells next door chimed their familiar and unusual chorus. Friday made his way to Emerson’s side and pushed the top of his head into her hand.
“Well Friday, we know what those bells mean, don’t we?” said Jasper. “4:25 on the dot. My five-minute warning. Better get to my perch before Skylar arrives. I wouldn’t want her to think something was amiss. Irene was also right about that book. It will serve you well. Take it with you.”
Jasper smiled and winked. Emerson smiled knowingly. He made his way up one of the ladders that lined the Stargrass walls to be among his books. The ladders led to extensive walkways that meandered through the highest shelves and allowed customers to get close to the mountains of books out of their normal reach. Emerson found them especially useful because at five feet tall, most everything was out of her reach.
Emerson and her dog, Friday, relaxed at Stargrass every day after school. Jasper would be at his mammoth desk surrounded by open books and often deep in negotiations with someone who wanted to buy one of his valuable finds or sell Jasper one of theirs. At 4:30pm sharp Skylar, Jasper’s granddaughter, waltzed through the door of Stargrass. Usually she hummed with her eyes glued to her phone. Jasper always greeted her with a booming voice as his head grazed the skylight. “Grandpa, you’re going to give someone a heartache if you keep that up!” she’d yell. Jasper would clap his hands together, float down the ladder, and give Skylar a hug.
Once they left Stargrass, Emerson and Skylar would grab a snack to-go at the Crooked Willow Cafe and head to Emerson’s home. Skylar would stay until Emerson’s dad, Oliver, got home from work. Emerson smiled at the comfort of the routine. This had been her routine as far back as she could remember.
At 4:27, Skylar stormed through the door. She seized Emerson’s arm and Emerson clutched the small book in her hands. Friday jumped to his feet and led the way as Skylar rushed Emerson toward the back office.
“Where are we going?” Emerson screamed.
Skylar ignored her. Jasper scrambled down the ladder and made his way to his desk. Halfway through the store, a gust of wind shoved Friday, Emerson, and Skylar to the floor. Emerson gasped. The fine hairs on her arms stood at attention.
“Shh,” Skylar said as she covered Emerson’s mouth.
Emerson’s heart pounded so hard she could see it move under her shirt. Skylar took her hand and they snuck into one of the dark corners to hide behind an immense stack of books. They cowered as if they were kids playing a game of high-stakes hide-and-seek. Even Friday seemed to hold his breath. Emerson could see Jasper through a gap between books.
The door slammed shut and a slow, deliberate set of footsteps made its way toward Jasper’s desk. The shadow of a willowy figure grew taller on the opposite wall. As it rounded the corner, they could see the person come into view in front of Jasper.
“On the trail of something, Jasper?” a throaty feminine voice rumbled.
“Always,” he replied with his signature warmth and good humor. “I didn’t hear you come in, Cassandra.”
“Don’t mock me.”
Cassandra snorted and paced like a caged lion. Emerson caught a glimpse of her between the books. She had an ironically stunning and porcelain face that didn’t match her voice. Over one eye she wore a steel patch with a large multifaceted jewel in the center that captured the light of the room. Her other eye hungrily roved the bookshelves and she sniffed the air as if on the hunt.
“A man is what he hides. Buddha said that three things can’t be long hidden—the sun, the moon, and the truth.”
“The truth only presents itself to those with the purest of intentions to use it to help others, not himself.”
“Rumi?” Cassandra asked.
“No. Peacock.”
“You’re a fine one to talk about truth.”
“Is there something I can help you with, Cassandra?” She snorted again.
“I’ll never understand why she trusted you. You are so…transparent. Or at least you are to me. That book doesn’t belong to you, Jasper. It belongs to us. And now it belongs to me. Give me that and the rest is yours.”
“It’s not mine to give.”
Jasper fixed his eyes on Cassandra. She unbuttoned the top buttons of her shirt. Cassandra went nose-to-nose with Jasper and sneered. He didn’t flinch.
“You stole that book and the only family I had. You wrote me off as damaged and unworthy, even before my injuries. Keep what’s mine and you’re going to find out how wrong you were. While you’ve been getting older, I’ve been getting stronger. Wiser. I have no more peers.”
“You have one,” Jasper said. Cassandra grimaced.
“Jasper, you know I’m not above destroying all of it. And this time there isn’t anyone to stop me. Don’t make this uglier than it already is. I won’t be a victim of your greed anymore. I won’t allow it. You’ll give me that book or you’ll have nothing left to give anyone. Your choice.”
Cassandra re-buttoned her shirt and backed away from Jasper. The door opened again and this time closed with a simple click of the latch. Skylar let out a deep sigh and fell to the ground. Emerson and Friday remained motionless. Skylar peeked around the corner. The trio walked toward Jasper. He stared at the door, expressionless. Skylar put her hand on his shoulder.
“Grandpa?” Skylar whispered. Emerson could never remember a time when he was speechless.
“Who was that?” Emerson asked. Jasper stared past them.
“A very difficult customer.”
Skylar put her arm around Emerson’s shoulder, and guided her to the door.
“Time for us to go,” said Skylar. Emerson picked up her backpack and clipped Friday’s leash to his collar.
Emerson, Skylar, and Friday paused just outside the door. Clouds hung low and heavy in the sky and wind slapped their faces. Friday pulled Emerson in the opposite direction that they usually took home. Skylar narrowed her eyes and scanned the street in all directions.
“Friday’s right. Let’s take the shortcut home,” said Skylar.
A strong gust of wind made the wooden sign above the Stargrass door smack into the side building’s wall. It made Skylar jump. As the sign continued to swing on its creaky hinges, Emerson silently read its familiar words: “Books are always a light in every darkness. Sometimes, they’re the only light.” Today that quote felt like a prayer. Emerson held tight to the book Jasper gave her. Light needs protection.
2nd day of novel writing – 1,679 words. The best parts of this process are the surprises – characters, scenes, and plot twists I didn’t see coming before I started. C.S. Lewis was so right – “You can make anything by writing.” Here’s the next bit of Chapter 1 and some pics. Let me know what you think!
“Jasper, how do you know her?” asked Emerson.
“Irene and I went to school together so you can imagine how long we’ve been friends,” he said as he took hold of the mala beads he always wore around his neck. “She’s a gifted doctor and a voracious reader of ancient medical texts. I’ve never heard of ailment she can’t fix. Once when I was very ill, she gave these mala beads to me along with a daily meditation. And would you believe I’ve never been sick since?”
“How’s that possible?”
“Everything’s possible, Emerson. But not everything is probable. We all need a touch of luck from time to time.”
“Even you?” asked Emerson.
“Especially me,” he said.
“How did she know my mother?”
“Your mother was known and loved by so many people, Emerson. Irene’s right—you do have her heart. And her curiosity.”
“What did she mean about this book’s…”
The church bells next door chimed their familiar and unusual chorus. Friday made his way to Emerson’s side and pushed the top of his head into her hand.
“Well Friday, we know what those bells mean, don’t we?” said Jasper. “4:25 on the dot. My five-minute warning. Better get to my perch before Skylar arrives. I wouldn’t want her to think something was amiss. Irene was also right about that book. It will serve you well. Take it with you.”
Jasper smiled and winked. Emerson smiled knowingly. He made his way up one of the ladders that lined the Stargrass walls to be among his books. The ladders led to extensive walkways that meandered through the highest shelves and allowed customers to get close to the mountains of books out of their normal reach. Emerson found them especially useful because at five feet tall, most everything was out of her reach.
Emerson and her dog, Friday, relaxed at Stargrass every day after school. Jasper would be at his mammoth desk surrounded by open books and often deep in negotiations with someone who wanted to buy one of his valuable finds or sell Jasper one of theirs. At 4:30pm sharp Skylar, Jasper’s granddaughter, waltzed through the door of Stargrass. Usually she hummed with her eyes glued to her phone. Jasper always greeted her with a booming voice as his head grazed the skylight. “Grandpa, you’re going to give someone a heartache if you keep that up!” she’d yell. Jasper would clap his hands together, float down the ladder, and give Skylar a hug.
Once they left Stargrass, Emerson and Skylar would grab a snack to-go at the Crooked Willow Cafe and head to Emerson’s home. Skylar would stay until Emerson’s dad, Oliver, got home from work. Emerson smiled at the comfort of the routine. This had been her routine as far back as she could remember.
At 4:27, Skylar stormed through the door. She seized Emerson’s arm and Emerson clutched the small book in her hands. Friday jumped to his feet and led the way as Skylar rushed Emerson toward the back office.
Here is a gallery of images that inspired my scenes. I didn’t create any of them and I don’t own the rights to any of them. I gathered them all from various Pinterest boards.
Mala beads that Jasper always wearsBook cover that catches Emerson’s eye
I hopped out of bed yesterday morning with a big smile on my face. Yesterday I started writing the first draft of my first novel, Where the Light Enters. Working from my outline, I strung together 4,041 coherent words to form the first 5 scenes of the book. Two of the main settings have been introduced as well as all of the main characters including the heroine, Emerson Page. There’s plenty of conflict and the secrets are piled high.
Below is the first bit of Chapter 1. I’d love to know how you feel about this first rough draft and what questions spring to mind throughout the passage. Please excuse typos, grammar mistakes, and any typographical inconsistencies.
Books whispered their secrets to Emerson Page. She ran her hands over their covers and felt them breathe. When she stepped inside the rare book section of Stargrass Paper & Books, long-dead authors rolled out the red carpet for her—a new exuberant audience of one.
She descended the gleaming staircase and felt the glow of the warm lights enter her heart. The bookcases cradled books of all shapes, sizes, and colors as the wound their way up toward the sky. Emerson was certain they would take her toward heaven if not for enormous Tiffany glass skylight that capped the room. Stargrass was Oz for book lovers like her. Here, she was home.
One small volume with an intricately carved cover caught her eye. Emerson adjusted the thick frame of her glasses and concentrated on it. She couldn’t remember ever seeing it before. It was just below a sign that had one of her favorite quotes scrawled across it: “If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. ~Albert Einstein” She strummed its gold tipped pages and caught a startling flutter of her mother’s scent—the rich smell of vanilla and cinnamon.
“Hello, new friend,” she said. Her smile beamed, her eyes widened, and her mind opened to its possibilities.
“Your mother loved that one, too, when she was your age,” said Jasper Peacock as he re-shelved an oversized book. Friday, Emerson’s dog who was dozing in the corner, immediately stood at attention with his ‘service dog’ bandana slightly askew.
“So you’re Nora and Oliver’s daughter,” said the woman standing next to Jasper. Emerson recognized her from the neighborhood and in her mind nicknamed her ‘the old lady who dances everywhere’.
“Emerson, this is an old friend of mine,” said Jasper. “Emerson Page please meet Irene Dorchester.” Irene extended her hand to Emerson.
“You knew my mother?” she asked Irene. Emerson noticed Irene’s eyeglasses had a handle on them that she used to hold them to her eyes. There was a small red light located in the upper right corner of the right lens.
“From the time she was born. Your mother was a remarkable young woman. Still is.” The small red light of Irene’s glasses pulsed like a laser.
“Where did you get those glasses?”
“So intriguing,” Irene said peering more intently at Emerson through her glasses. “What a lucky combination to have your mother’s heart and your father’s mind.”
“Truman made these for Irene,” said Jasper. “One of his many inventions that take something very old and make it better than anything new.”
“And that includes old ladies like me!” Irene and Jasper laughed. Emerson admired people who could laugh at themselves.
“Irene,” said Jasper. “I’ll let you know what my contacts find. That book is going to be tough to find, but we’ll get it. It will take us a bit of time.”
“Doesn’t everything?” she said. “Emerson, it was a pleasure to finally meet you. If I were you, I’d commit that book in your hand to memory. It will serve you well.” Irene glided up the stairs and out through the front door.
Here is a gallery of images that inspired my scenes. I didn’t create any of them and I don’t own the rights to any of them. I gathered them all from various Pinterest boards.
Where Emerson’s adventure begins: Stargrass Paper & Books
Today marks the beginning of my next big writing project – National Novel Writing Month. By November 30th, I will finish the ~50,000-word first draft of my first novel, Where the Light Enters staring my heroine, Emerson Page. She is about to discover that her passion for books is intricately entwined to ancient secrets about her family. Books are in her blood, literally. She will learn that it’s her destiny to protect them at all costs, and the costs are dangerous and many. Her new-found heritage will take her and her friends on a wild ride of adventures around the globe, and under it.
Every day, I’ll post the number of words I wrote the day before. I’ll also include a description of the scenes I wrote, my favorite short passage from that day’s writing, and an inspirational photo for the scene. I’m really excited to share this project with you, and would love any and all feedback. You can also follow Emerson’s adventures on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.
Christa Avampato 