We can’t learn to sail from the shore. We can’t learn to fly from the ground. To learn how to build a business of any kind, we must be in business. Business is an art form just like playing the piano or painting a picture. It takes practice, and chances are we will create some really awful work as we learn to make great work. So don’t be so hard on yourself if your first attempts are less than shining stars of success. Honestly, it’s better if they’re not. Go further than you think you can. Give your wildest ideas a whirl. Get crazy. That’s where the learning is, and learning is the best gift you can give to your future self. Don’t be afraid. Just do it. Go have an adventure.
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.
Writers know where their characters will be on the last page of the book. That focus creates the flow of our characters’ actions and ups the ante when the many necessary conflicts and complications arise. Here’s the game of writing fiction: my character is on this side of the field and what she wants is on the other side. A million proverbial land mines lie in wait for her missteps. (And misstep she will!) She must learn to deftly navigate her way across the field to claim her prize. She needs to get help from others, build skills, and ditch her fears to fulfill her potential. By the time I type those two sweet words “The End”, she has to transform into the person who can traverse the risky landscape that stretches as far as her eyes can see in every direction. Writing fiction is an adventure.
Legend has it that Michelangelo conducted autopsies to heighten his understanding, and thus his art, of the human body. Fiction writers must also conduct autopsies, though their subjects are stories. Compelling, intricate, luscious stories.
I’m reading and watching a lot of fiction as I prepare to write Where the Light Enters during National Novel Writing Month. As I read and watch, I sketch the story. At the end of every scene, I answer these questions:
Whose POV is represented?
What happens?
What did I learn about the characters and the story?
What were the interesting turns of phrase and images?
What did I learn about the characters through their actions?
How did it end?
What questions am I asking that move me to keep reading and watching?
At the end, I answer these questions:
What was the story about?
What happened?
Who’s story is it?
Do I care and if so, why?
What questions remain?
Did I get what was promised at the beginning of the story? And what was it?
This exercise is immensely valuable and fun.Like Indiana Jones, an archeologist who digs in the dirt for buried treasure, I’m discovering the bone structure, value, and meaning of the words that comprise page-turning books.
What have your learned about writing from reading?
“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.” ~Gilda Radner
I choked up as I looked at the New York City skyline one last time before my move to Florida, and then I felt a tremendous amount of stress drain out through my fingertips. My last day in New York wasn’t perfect; far from it. Now I’m starting a new and uncertain chapter. I know this new chapter will help me learn and grow in ways I can’t yet imagine. And I’m ready for all of it, whatever it is.
Tony Bennett left his heart in San Francisco. I leave mine here in New York. On these streets. With these people. And before I go, I’ve got to say thank you.
To the people, all these people. I’ll miss you most of all. The rude, the crude, and the kind, in masses and exceedingly long lines. Busy, moving, climbing, and often blocking my way. New Yorkers and their never-ending opinions, loud, boisterous, and strong. You have to admire a city of people who never admit they’re wrong. You taught me everything through your energy, drama, and noise. The doormen. The fruit vendors on every uptown corner. The city workers who make this city work. The musicians who play their hearts out on the street, in the subway, in the park, in the great concert halls and small hidden clubs that dot every neighborhood. The writers. The dreamers. My boss Charlotte Wilcox who taught me how to survive (on $396/week) and my boss Bob G. who taught me how to thrive. My many bosses in the land of never-ending cubicles, some hideous, some clueless, and some wise. My pot-smoking granny neighbor and the hoarder who set my apartment building on fire. Even the guy who just now almost knocked me over as he passed. Even you. Thank you all. You have given me material—it’s all material! —to craft, create, and grow a body of work and a life of meaning.
Of course to my friends. Friends who are family, my framily, in New York. Those who are still here and those who have gone on to new adventures in new places. You inspire me, keep me reaching, keep my striving, and that is no small gift.
To the food. I cannot leave without thanking all of the chefs and servers in food trucks, behind counters, in kitchens great and small. Some who charge a fortune and some who charge almost nothing at all. (Especially to Lenny’s, Tal’s, and H&H, thanks for all your fine bagels and schmears over the years.) You’ve all fed me well, in fat times and lean, and inspired me to see what I could create in my own tiny kitchen. You filled my belly and fed my soul. So thank you.
To the dogs of New York and their parents who love them. Thank you for giving Phin and me a community of kindred spirits, human and animal. To the Spot Experience for taking such good care of my little guy when I had to travel and couldn’t take him with me.
To Central Park and Riverside Park, you were sanctuaries to me in all kinds of weather. I would come to you when I was happy and sad and disappointed and confused because you would just let me walk and be.
To the trains, planes, buses, boats, cabs, and my own two strong feet that take me all over this small place so packed with life that it feels hundreds of times its physical size. Thank you for showing me the world without leaving the island.
To the museums. You have been some of my happiest homes in New York – from AMNH to MoMA to the Met – I often found myself wandering those halls, lost and found in equal amounts.
So New York, this is where I leave you. The end of another chapter in my New York life. For those keeping track, this is the third and I’m sure not the last. New York, you and I will always be together, at least in spirit. I’ll come back to visit and probably, eventually, to live. We’ll both be a little bit different and a little bit the same. Times change, we change, places change. Change can’t be stopped. You taught me that change is never to be feared, but embraced – fully, lovingly, and constantly. And that I’ll take with me everywhere I go. Thank you, for everything.
“Now that she had nothing to lose, she was free.” ~Paulo Coelho
Last week I wrapped up my final pieces of consulting work to make the leap to write full-time. Leading up to that moment, I felt a bit of trepidation. I’ve done well as a consultant for 2+ years and I worried about letting go of a good thing. The letting go was difficult but being in this new space isn’t. I don’t have anything left to lose and that is a very good feeling. It’s freeing and empowering. All I see ahead is open space where I can create. Now, everything is a canvas and I’ve got all the colors I need to paint something that matters. I’m home.
When I began to think about relocating, my amazing friend, Sara, suggested I make a Pinterest board of every city that’s interesting to me. She had done that when she decided to move to Austin and it really helped her look forward to the change. I followed her wise advice and it’s working like a charm. Check out the board I made for Florida. As you can see, I’m looking forward to more time in the natural world!
I was in a holding pattern on leaving New York for a long time because I didn’t know where to go. I knew it was time for new adventures but I wasn’t sure where to find them. I still don’t know for sure. I’m going to Orlando to see if that’s the right place. It feels like the right next place, and that’s all that matters right now. Nothing lasts forever. We change our minds. We grow, evolve, and get new information. The only step we ever need is the next one. The road ahead will reveal itself when it’s good and ready, and in pieces. I’m trying to live my life that way, just one step at a time.
After years of debate, I’ve made the decision to move to Orlando, Florida at least through the end of the year. I’ve been visiting my family there for long stretches of time while keeping my home in New York City. Now I’m flipping the paradigm to have my home in Florida with stretches of time spent visiting New York.
Some of the reasons are economic. How much higher can New York City rent climb? The answer is always higher, and I really want to own a home, a near-impossibility for me in New York. I could fork over an insane amount of monthly rent for a less and less appealing apartment, but that seems foolish. Better to buy a beautiful place in Florida and Airbnb the time I want to be in New York.
Some of the reasons are personal. My mom’s getting older. My little nieces are getting older. I want more space in my life for travel and exploration, and that’s a tough conundrum to crack with the cost of New York City living.
Many of the reasons are professional. I’m turning most of my attention to writing. That includes journalism, copywriting, playwright, and writing my first novel this Fall. I’ll likely add some teaching into the mix in some way. I’ve also got a few product ideas up my sleeves that I want to be able to build and test. In a less expensive city, this multi-faceted career is possible without sacrificing quality of life.
And it’s time for adventure. If New York has taught me anything it’s that I can survive and thrive and be okay anywhere I go. So I’m going to scale some mountains that have been calling my name for a long time. It’s time to meet them where they are.
I’ll have much more to say in the coming weeks about my move out of New York and into Florida. If nothing else, it’s going to be great material. It’s all great material.
Christa Avampato 