Christa Avampato's Blog, page 24

Two locations in my second Emerson Page novel: The Dark Hedges and Trinity College Library’s Long Room

When I took my book writing research trip to Ireland in 2018, I had two must-see places on my list: the Long Room at Trinity College Library and the Dark Hedges (which is the inspiration for the cover of my second Emerson Page novel). The photos below show me at both locations. They feature prominently in the book.

What I didn’t know before I arrived in Ireland is that so many other places would also find their way into the book. Everywhere I went, from the local pubs to the ancient sites to the natural settings, inspired my imagination and creativity, and filled me with wonder. So much of my trip was completely unplanned. I let the spirits and good people of Ireland direct me and guide me, and not once did I falter (which is a rarity for me, especially while traveling, because I often get myself into trouble that makes for interesting stories later on!) I carried a copy of Emerson’s first book with me everywhere and I often felt her nudge me in certain directions. I was never disappointed to follow her lead. 

Other than New York, Ireland is the only place I’ve ever been that immediately felt like home, as if I’d been there before and was fated to be there at that very moment. Certainly a piece of my heart remains there now. For this reason, New York and Ireland are where Emerson spends all her time in this second book in the trilogy. Her New York and Ireland are filled with mythology, magic, and fantastical beings, experiences, and objects, and in the book I’ve done my best to transport readers into her world of adventure.

Some more fun facts about the Long Room and the Dark Hedges:

1.) The Long Room is 65 metres, nearly 300 years old, and filled with 200,000 of the library’s oldest books as well as gorgeous sculptures and an ancient harp that dates to the 15th century. The harp inspired the coat of arms of Ireland as well as the logo for Guinness beer. The scent in the Long Room is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before or since. Known as Biblichor, from the Greek words, Biblos (meaning book) and Ichor (meaning “fluid that flows in the veins of gods”), it is related to the word Petrichor, a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather. The Irish are serious about a number of things that are dear to me—stories and books, history, music, beer, and nature, not necessarily in that order. No wonder I feel so at home in this country!

It sits above a chamber that holds the Book of Kells, a 9th century handwritten illuminated manuscript of the four gospels of the New Testament, filled with ornate Latin text and intricate illustrations, many of them quite cheeky and containing secret messages that the Celtic monks who created it wrote to each other. I love the Irish for so many reasons, and their humor is among my favorite of their attributes.

 

2.) The Dark Hedges (in Irish:Na Fálta Dorcha) is an avenue of beech trees along Bregagh Road between Armoy and Stranocum in County Antrim, Northern Ireland. The majority of them are 250 years old, and form a tunnel that from the start seems never-ending. The fields on either side are abandoned cemeteries, lending to the ghostly feeling I had as soon as I arrived. It’s as if the trees whisper to each other through the wind. The trees are rumored to be haunted by many mythological beings—namely the Grey Lady and the Mórrígan (Mór-Ríoghain in modern Irish) who is the fierce Celtic goddess of battle, destiny, fertility, and death (a heavy workload!) and often appear as or is be accompanied by a crow or wolf. They’re badass women who know what they want and don’t tolerate nonsense. Did I mention I felt very at-home here, too?! 

Beech trees are linked with time and knowledge, especially written wisdom as thin slices of beech were used to write the very first books. Whatever words were inscribed on beech took on the power and magic of the gods. This is why the beech tree was held in such awe in those early days of books, and still is today. Beech trees were called ‘Boc’ by the Anglo-Saxons, which later became the word ‘book’. I didn’t know any of this until I arrived at the Dark Hedges, and it felt serendipitous since Emerson’s entire journey in the trilogy revolves around finding the first book ever written. 

As a writer, you think you’re leading the story but what I’ve often found is that the story is always leading me to a far better place than I could ever create on my own. The art of writing a novel is a long and winding road, the path meandering but always with purpose. If I just sit as a willing scribe, the story finds me. My job is just to get it down as honestly and vividly as possible. All it takes is time. It’s the great mystery of imagination—I don’t know where the story comes from but I’m honored that it found me and continues to guide me. 

I’m excited to share more behind-the-scenes about the book in future posts leading up to its release in Spring 2024. I’m so excited to be back in Emerson’s world, and revisiting my fond memories of Ireland, a country I hope to return to very soon.

Cover reveal for my second novel, Emerson Page and Where the Light Leads

Emerson Page and Where the Light Leads by Emerson Page

Drumroll please! Here is the book cover for my second novel, Emerson Page and Where the Light Leads. What do you think?! 

Emerson’s joined here by her three best friends: Skylar, Truman, and her service dog, Friday. This scene captures the moment when they arrive at a magical location where they encounter several mythological creatures who never quite reveal themselves as friends or foes. Can you guess the real-life location in Northern Ireland that inspired the cover? Can you guess which mythological creatures they find there and what they reveal to our favorite quartet?

I’ll share the answers tomorrow along with some fun photos and stories. For now, I’d love to hear your reactions to the cover and your guesses to the two questions above.

Nature is our ally, not our adversary

Photo by Lukasz Szmigiel on Unsplash

You know what you need to produce oil and gas? Water. Lots of it. For fracking. You know who produces the most oil and gas worldwide? I guessed Saudi Arabia. I was wrong. The U.S. is now the world’s largest oil and gas producer. 

In the last 13 years, the U.S. has used 1.5 trillion gallons of water for fracking. That’s the amount of water used annually by the state of Texas with a population of nearly 30 million people. It’s a triple whammy against the planet by America — the emissions created by these fossil fuels, the extensive use of water to complete fracking exercises to get those fossil fuels out of the ground, and the immense damage done to ecosystems by fracking, a process that creates vast amounts of wastewater, emits greenhouse gases such as methane, releases toxic air pollutants and generates noise, destroys animal and plant habitats, causes species decline, disrupts animal migrations, and degrades land.

But don’t worry, says one of the wealthiest and most prominent scientists in the world, because human ingenuity and technology are going to save us. According to him, nature-based solutions are “nonsense” and “idiotic”. “There are effects on humanity,” he said last week at Climate Week NYC, assessing the overall threats posed by climate change. “The planet, less so. It’s a fairly resilient thing.”

I used to be grateful that he was in the climate conversation. Now, I’m disappointed by yet another prominent scientist who has gone off-the-rails and is ignoring science. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s wishful thinking. Maybe it’s desperation at the dire state of the planet.

This is what I know to be true — the wisdom of nature far exceeds any wisdom of any human who has ever lived. To claim otherwise, is the height of ignorance and arrogance. It’s dangerous to listen to someone who puts himself above nature, especially when he has one of the highest personal carbon footprints in the world and the health of the natural world underpins half of global GDP (~$40 trillion).

Nature knows how to create conditions conducive to life. The human track record on supporting life, including our own, is abysmal. I’m banking on nature’s wisdom every single day. She’s an ally, not an adversary, and we must listen and respect her before it’s too late. Nature made our existence possible. 

Human ingenuity, while offering many gifts, has given us climate change, fracking, and perhaps the recipe for our own extinction. The most ingenious actions humans could take now are to listen to and learn from nature, and work with her, not against her. She’s ready to play ball. She always has been. The question now is, are we?

Takeaways from Climate Week NYC 2023

Photo by Willian Justen de Vasconcellos on Unsplash

I spent last week inspired by storytelling, a mechanism of empathy as Neil Gaiman calls it, during Climate Week NYC. I met dozens of family office leaders and their advisors. My dissertation for University of Cambridge focuses on this intersection — how storytelling can galvanize family office investment in nature-based solutions.

A few take-aways:

Language matters
I went to a New York Public Library event with Eliza Reid and Dr. Jenni Haukio, the First Ladies of Iceland and Finland. The discussion was moderated by Neil Gaiman, my favorite author. All three of them emphasized the importance of language and how the words we choose are intimately tied to our culture, geography, and ecology.

When talking about climate change, we can feel overwhelmed by inertia. One way to break that inertia is to go out into nature and listen to the stories she tells. The beauty and wonder of nature, and the inspiration she provides, is worth protecting, saving, and sacrificing for. Stories, in any medium and format, can center nature in powerful ways that emotionally connect us to one another and the natural world.

Art is vital to the climate conversation
Science, governance, and finance matter enormously in climate. Art matters just as much. It is the way in for many people. The expression of climate change’s impact on a personal level sticks with people more than facts and figures. We save things we love, that hold meaning for us, and art is a way to convey love and meaning. I want to create more climate talks and actions that are cross-sector, cross-generational, cross-geography. Let’s tear down the walls that divide us in favor of the bridges that connect us. I didn’t see a single talk at Climate Week that includes scientists, artists, policy makers, and financiers together on one stage. I’d like to make that the norm.

Where there are helpers, there is hope
I went to E2’s session on how New York (City and State) can make the most of the Inflation Reduction Act, the largest climate investment ever made by the U.S. government. I met three entrepreneurs who are doing innovative product development in the energy space. All are career switchers. They sincerely want to help, and that gives me hope.

Passion drives progress
I spoke to some financiers trying to serve family offices. I asked them what they love about what they do. They looked at me wide-eyed and silent. They have no idea what they love about what they do. They’ve never thought about it. They’re working on climate because as they said, “it’s what’s next”. 

I emphatically encouraged them to consider the why as much as the what. If they are just in this for their piece of the pie, that distracts from and hinders the movement. This work is too important, too vital to the well-being of every being to be in this just for the money they think they can make. Passion is the driving force for progress. Money is fuel for the journey. Let’s not get it twisted.

My second novel has a publishing date

Emerson Page and Where the Light Enters

Breaking news: my second novel, Emerson Page and Where the Light Leads, will be released in Spring 2024!

The publisher is working on the final steps and around the holidays we’ll have a better sense of a set release date along with pre-order links. On Wednesday, September 27th, I’ll post a cover reveal sneak peek on here.

Set in a mgaical version of New York City, and Ireland’s Dublin, the Dark Hedges, and Newgrange, I can’t wait to share this next chapter of Emerson’s adventures with you. Thank you to everyone who has cheered me on these many years in a million different ways. Writing novels is a solo art form that takes a village to bring to life. I’m grateful to be in this village with all of you.

Leading up to publication, I’ll be sharing loads of info on the book, the process of book publication, querying, storytelling and writing, and other behind-the-scenes goodies and giveaways. Book publishing can feel like such a mystery from the outside, so come on inside with me and I’ll show you around this wild and always-changing world!

More details soon and stay tuned on Wednesday for the gorgeous cover. In the meantime, you can read my Medium post titled A Publisher Bought My YA Novel Trilogy—Here’s Everything I Did Wrong and Emerson’s first book, Emerson Page and Where the Light Enters.

To write well, we must read well and take a break

Look for Me There by Luke Russert Unreasonable Hospitality by Will Guidara

After a two-day break from dissertation literature review writing, I’m back at it today. It’s amazing the clarity we get from stepping back, focusing on other things, and returning with fresh eyes. I would have loved to take a longer break to let the words accumulate a good thick layer of dust but deadlines and NYC Climate Week next week demand otherwise.

I spent the last couple days doing work for clients, reaching out to potential collaborators for interviews, finally hanging up art in my apartment, and reading two beautiful books that I highly recommend: Unreasonable Hospitality by top-notch restauranteur Will Guidara and Look for Me There, Luke Russert‘s stunning memoir about the life he’s built in the wake of the sudden and untimely passing of his larger-than-life dad, Tim Russert, whom I still dearly miss, especially in these trying times of U.S. politics.

Now with a more colorful space, inspired by the writing of others, some items off the to-do list, and my top-tier dream collaborators booked for the project, I’m re-writing, editing, and honing what I hope will be a decent first draft for my supervisor to review. As my first year tutor Angus always said to me, we’ll see how it goes in prose.

Will Guidara so beautifully writes, “Most important, we have an opportunity—a responsibility—to make magic in a world that desperately needs more of it.” I’ll do my best to make good on that opportunity and responsibility in my writing.

How NYC commemorates 9/11: #Neverforget and #carryon

The firehouse in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn. Photo by Christa Avampato.

Today’s the toughest day of the year for New Yorkers. We read names, tell stories, remember faces, and pay tribute to bravery and courage. We all remember where we were, what we were doing, and who we were with on that most terrible of mornings, mourning.

I was in Chicago crossing the river to the theater for work to open The Full Monty Broadway tour, coffee and muffin in-hand. A huge crowd gathered around an electronics store window full of TVs. I thought they were watching a movie preview. It took me a moment to realize it was live news footage and my city was under attack.

22 years on, half a lifetime ago for me, and we live by the code #neverforget but we’ve added #carryon to it because that’s what 1,649 New Yorkers wish they could’ve done on that ordinary, shining Tuesday. To-date we’ve lost double that number from diseases caused by 9/11.

A month after the attack, I ran the Chicago marathon and it remains the most life-affirming event I’ve ever been part of. I’ll never forget the kindness, love, and support that poured from those streets onto the 30,000 runners, myself and my dear friend, Mark, included. Chicago and Chicagoans took up permanent residence in my heart that day.

A month after the marathon I lost my job because many Broadway shows and tours closed, unable to generate enough revenue to continue. With no job and no place to live, I boarded an empty plane and went to Europe for the first time at the suggestion of my dear friend, Amy, who made it clear that there was nothing better I could do. She was right. That trip changed my life. Everywhere I went once people realized I was a New Yorker, I was gobsmacked with their kindness and compassion. They patched the wound those fallen towers left in me.

So this morning, as I’ve done for 22 years, I went for a run. I went by my local firehouse in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn with this mural memorial to the neighborhood FDNY firefighters we lost. I reveled in beauty by hanging up art in my apartment. I sat down at my laptop and wrote. I planted seeds that will eventually grow into plants and flowers. I carried on for those we’ve lost and the many who grieve. I cried. I remembered.

How to directly help the people of Ukraine stay alive

Photo by Max Kukurudziak on Unsplash

Today is my 14th Alive Day, and to mark it I’m directly helping people in Ukraine stay alive. (At the end of this post, I tell the story of my Alive Day at the end of this post for those who didn’t know me 14 years ago.)

My friend and Cambridge classmate, Iuliia Takhtarova, is from Ukraine and raising money to buy tourniquets for her fellow Ukrainians as they head to the frontlines of the war to fight for their country. All this money will be used to directly help them. Tourniquets save lives. I made a donation and I hope you will, too. 

A talented public speaker who’s curated over 150 TEDx speeches by NGO and business leaders, ambassadors, and government officials, Iuliia will provide a 45-minute individual session on impact-driven pitches and presentations to every donor who makes a $60+donation (the price of 2 high-quality tourniquets from a repurtable supplier). She will also provide all donors of any size with a detailed update on the impact of their gift. She has set up a Paypal account specifically for this fundraiser: takhtarovajulia@gmail.com. You can find more information about the fundraiser on her LinkedIn post: Iuliia’s fundraiser for Ukraine tourniquets. 

 — 
A bit more about my Alive Day for those who have never heard the story:

Though I have never been in a war, I know what it feels like to lose a home. 14 years ago on this day I had to run for my life away from flames and into the terrifying void that followed. My neighbor accidentally set fire to her gas stove. Rather than turn off the gas, she ran out of the building and the rest of the building caught fire. I was home, just out of the shower, and went into the kitchen where I heard the radiator ticking on a very hot day. A closer look and I realized the tiles on my kitchen floor were heaving up and down. I grabbed my keys and went downstairs to see what was going on.

Seconds later I was surrounded by thick, black, noxious smoke. I had no idea where the smoke was coming from but I knew I had to get out of that building if I wanted to stay alive. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face and I ran for my life down 4 flights of stairs. At one point, I was flying so quickly that I felt as if I was being carried.

Out on the sidewalk, I was covered in soot and shaking as I stared at my building. Flames shot out of every window as the New York City fire truck sirens blared. Later I would learn that I was seconds away from running right into the flames when the fire in my neighbor’s apartment got so hot that the front door fell off its hinges and the entire hallway was engulfed in flames.

I was lucky to be alive, and the trauma from losing almost all my belongings, my home, and nearly my life started me on a difficult years-long mental health journey as I reckoned with an entire lifetime of trauma and unrelenting PTSD. It got so unbearable at one point that I considered jumping from the roof of my new apartment building months later. When PTSD has you in its clutches, life feels hopeless. I found hope in writing and in nature, but I still needed professional help.

I was lucky to get years of therapy with Brian, my incredible therapist who remains a blessing in my life today. He led me through the darkness and for the first time in my life, into the light. This experience is why I’m such an enormous advocate for mental health, and why today I don’t take a moment of life for granted. I know how chancey it can be. We have to help each other along the road in any and every way we can.

A much longer version of my Alive Day story with more details about how writing became my lifeline is at https://itstartsatmidnight.com/2017/10/shatteringstigmas-guest-post-writing-frees-us-free-others/.

Stories of climate change teach us that we are each other’s tomorrow

Photo by Tania Malréchauffé on Unsplash

This morning’s joyful find—THIS is the style of academic writing I’m here for! I’m reading through an academic paper about climate change communications that quotes one of my storytelling queens, the great author Ursula Le Guin. I nearly fell out of my chair with happiness!

Paraphrasing, it says we need to lay aside stories of the one hero versus one villain and begin to tell what Ursula Le Guin in “Dancing at the Edge of the World” called “the carrier bag narrative”: collecting stories to construct transformative narratives to help us find the strength to “stay with the trouble” so that we can change and inspire change in others. Stories transform our world by affording us the chance to co-construct our shared future.

We are all in this narrative of climate change, though our personal stories of its impact are not the same. Following Le Guin’s counsel, we need to tell our stories and also listen to the stories of others to construct the narrative system of climate change. There are many voices, many perspectives, and many outcomes, simultaneously being told and lived. They are all valid. They all play a part. It is therefore our responsibility to not just make ourselves heard and understood, but also to make sure others have the opportunity to do the same.

This isn’t about getting and taking what we think is ours. It’s about the idea of being the Mother Tree in the forest, making sure that each individual in the system has what they need to grow and thrive. We are all made better when each of us is well.

When writing feels like play

Photo by Nick Morrison on Unsplash

Even though it’s Labor Day weekend, I’m laboring away at the outline for my University of Cambridge dissertation with the goal of having a single page of my literature review written and edited by the end of the day.

The weird and wonderful part of the work at this point is that it doesn’t feel like work at all, but play. Like a set of LEGO blocks, I’m linking the information and data to support the story, synthesizing everything I’ve learned after all this reading and note taking into a cohesive, communicable form that helps people and the planet.

I’m sure there will be rough spots along the way where I get jammed up on the journey. I’ve a long way to go over the next year. But for now, I’m excited to begin writing and using prose for purpose. Happy days.