I tell wonder-filled stories about hope and healing
The purpose of my life is only this: to be a proliferator of good-a** vibes. Everywhere I go. Everything I do. I want it all to add up to this. That feels like the best possible way to spend my time. It helps me. It helps the world. Everyone wins.
No matter what decision you have in front of you, there are only three possible answers: give up, give in, or give it all you’ve got. They all have a place in our lives. The important thing is to know which answer to use when. Here’s my little cheat sheet that’s never failed me:
If what I’m doing doesn’t bring me joy, I give up.
If I’m afraid of moving forward, I give in (and give myself over to the experience.)
If I’ll regret not taking the road ahead of me, even if it seems difficult and frightening, I give it all I’ve got.
Above all, make a choice and stand behind it with conviction. The choice itself is empowering, and it’s yours.
As someone who loves and writes passionately about technology, I love that Moonjar is a low-tech solution to a big problem. Kids need to learn strong financial habits early, and most of them don’t. Moonjar easily teaches kids to divide their earnings into 3 parts: spend, save, and share. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s effective. It got me thinking about other problems that we have in our society that could be solved by low-tech ingenuity and creativity. It also inspires me to get back to building and making as I continue writing. Time for me to chase down that muse, too.
I was in a funk. I blamed lots of external factors, some deservedly so, but at the end of the day it was me that needed to ignite change. I needed to take back the reigns on my mood and keep marching forward. So I got up, danced around to Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off” (judge me if you will but I like the message of that song), took a very cold shower, and got on with it.
Change is tough, but I’m tougher. I am my thoughts. My world is my own creation. I am responsible for what goes right, what goes wrong, and what needs fixin’. Life is a choice.
Change your mind and you change everything.
“Storytelling is part of human continuity.” ~Robert Redford
Stories keep us going in the darkest hours and they help us celebrate the high points. Though the medium and format may change, storytelling is the oldest tradition we have. Around a campfire, at bedtime, at the dinner table, on vacation, when we’re scared, when we’re happy, when we have free time. We tell stories everywhere all the time. Stories are mad for everyone—anyone can hear them and each person will take away something different to apply to life in their own unique way. I want my epitaph to read only this: she lived and told good stories.
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.
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’
Christa Avampato 