Christa Avampato

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.

You can also follow Emerson’s adventures on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.

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.

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.

You can also follow Emerson’s adventures on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.

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.