On the Move: Bilbao to Tarifa, in pursuit of good energy

March 15, 2025 By meerasub Leave a Comment

man bent over paints with a wash of color on wall behind him.

Peregrinations are underway. I’m more than two months into my FRONTIERS fellowship, the first half of which was spent in Bilbao at the Basque Center or Climate (BC3) Change. I came here with the question: can renewable energy projects be built in a way that’s better for biodiversity, people, and place?

It’s complicated.

But like the muralist I caught mid-stream as he transformed a construction blind into a work of art, it takes layers of paint, layers of understanding. I’m thankful for the FRONTIERS grant to have the time to keep digging. The researchers at BC3 helped give me a crash course in understanding the renewable energy landscape, and I’ve been busy conducting dozens of interviews, in Spanish and English, with BC3 staff as well as people all over Spain and in France. They’ve included researchers in agrivoltaics, ornithology and environmental conflict; organizations such as Greenpeace, Eudemon and Renewable Energy Foundation; political representatives such as mayors of small towns with renewable energy projects; reps from renewable energy companies; and many others.

When I arrived in Spain, Biden was still president. A week later, he wasn’t. Nowhere is far enough away from the new president’s wrath. BC3 researchers lost US partners when funding was frozen. A cousin lost his job in Bangkok related to USAID. A friend lost a year’s worth of climate work on New Jersey organic farms. A niece’s new position at NOAA as a fledging applied ecologist feels tenuous. But also, my stepdaughter, who is an environmental lawyer for Earthjustice, was part of the team that just sued Trump and the USDA to release IRA funds that were contractually promised and are now frozen. The lawsuits against the administration are piling up.

Here in Europe, the mood is jittery. (Also, I am fielding the repeated baffled question/accusation: how could you Americans have voted him in … again?!) I attended The Climate Agenda in the New European Legislature and Its Impact in the Basque Country, an event in Bilbao on January 31, when the wrecking ball was taking its first wild swings. Panelists included local politicians and journalists from other parts of Europe, offering a lens into the dynamics and tensions around renewable energy, especially in the wake of the inauguration of Donald Trump. Europe is readying itself for … well, just about anything. There is the tension between the desperate need to ramp up the clean energy transition to achieve energy independence butting against the need to divert resources to build war chests. Bolstering nuclear power keeps coming up. So does resistance:

Also spotted at a news stand:

But I could only do so much from Bilbao. I’m spending the second half of my time here reporting, going to see solar and wind farms that are trying to do things better for birds and farmers and towns. Now, I write from Tarifa, the southernmost tip of Spain, a windy passage where Europe meets Africa, the Atlantic Ocean meets the Mediterranean Sea. It is difficult to concentrate on the screen, because I’ve come here to look at the sky, the bird migration just beginning. Wind turbines spin behind me up the hillsides of Spain, as well as across the waters of the Strait of Gibraltar, atop Morocco’s mountains. It’s a slalom course for migrating birds, but I’m here to see the efforts to lessen the impact.

Tarifa, Spain, looking across the Strait of Gibraltar to Morocco

I am thankful for a moment of sun. Andalucia, like most of Spain, has been under a deluge of rain. So much that I couldn’t make it to some of the solar farms on my itinerary, so mired they were in mud. The rain is good, in some ways, needed to alleviate a drought, but it’s also coming too quick, too much, rivers rising. Causing a different type of jitters, with the Valencia floods that killed hundreds last fall still in close memory. I stopped in a cafe for a quick coffee and had to step over the barrier constructed to keep out the rain. It wasn’t enough. The man who passed me a steaming cafe con leche said that, a week and half ago, the place was filled with a half-meter of water. Too early to attribute these weeks of rain to climate change, but it fits the pattern of more extreme weather. More drought, followed by heavier, more intense rains.

man outside, and lower part of doorway blocked.

One can only hope that the lush green of this wet spring’s growth is not fuel for wildfires of the future. And that the stories I’m finding offer models that can be implemented—quick! now! yesterday!—to get off fossil fuels and onto clean energy sources in a way that doesn’t cause greater harm or collateral damage. Stay posted for more stories to come.

Journalists & writer friends, take note…

Orion Environmental Writers Workshop Join a community of writers, improve your craft, and reimagine how you think about nature. March 15 (today!) for early bird tuition rate.
Covering Climate Now is offering a free training program aimed at helping newsrooms grow their audiences by telling the climate story better. Check out trainings on offer: Climate Journalism Training Catalog.
The Sharon Begley Science Reporting Award is open for entries. Deadline: April 30.
FRONTIERS open call for round three, specifically for early-career journalists Deadline: May 6, 17:00 (CEST).
Dart Center forJournalism and Trauma, the C.A.R.E.S. (Connecting Audiences, Reporters, Emotions, and Sources) Media Initiative is conducting research to better understand the resources that journalists on the climate/environment beat need to do their work. Take a moment to do this survey.
Trying to keep track of the Trump administration’s dismantling of climate regulations? Options include: “A Running Tally of Trump’s Climate Impacts” from Drilled, and the Climate Backtracker from the Sabin Center for Climate Change Law at the Columbia Law School.
NYU Stern Climate Economics Journalism Fellowship will bring a group of journalists to NYU Stern’s Greenwich Village campus, September 18–19, 2025, to learn from globally recognized experts in the emerging field of climate economics. Open to new and experienced journalists (staffers and freelancers) covering the interface between climate and the economy. Here are details and application.

And from the Department of Good News…

A Better World Is Possible, a nonfiction YA graphic novel I’ve been working on with the talented illustrator Danica Novgorodoff is working its way to publication (First Second, 2026). It reveals the pressing danger of the climate crisis through the stories of four youth climate activists who demonstrate the potential of teen power. I’m excited to announce that I received a Grant for Creative Individuals from the Mass Cultural Council that I’ll be putting towards helping this book find its way into the world. THANKS, MCC!

I received the Staige D. Blackford Prize for Nonfiction for my piece about the decision to donate a kidney, published in the Virginia Quarterly Review last fall. This feels deeply full circle; VQR was so generous to honor my piece about India’s vultures with this prize back in 2011. I was only a few years out of grad school, I hadn’t done any truly long-form, and VQR editor Ted Genoways took a chance on me. When that prize happened, it transformed the trajectory of my struggling freelance life. Truly. To receive the prize again, after all these years, for this piece that felt so risky in a completely different way, is the deepest of honors. Thanks to editor Paul Reyes and the whole VQR team.
I’m also am a True Story Award finalist, for my New Yorker piece, Consider the Vulture.
And I’ll be back in the US soon, for better or worse, in time to give a talk about South Asian vultures—their monumental decline and the efforts to bring them back—for the Brookline Bird Club, April 25, at the Harvard Geological Lecture Hall. In person and on Zoom. More details to come.

I’m reading…

To keep my reading mind in Spain, there’s been Ben Lerner’s Leaving Atocha Station, which exquisitely captured the hungry creative young mind as he makes an infinite number of poor decisions, and I’m midway through Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s Shadow of the Wind.
I listened to The Buried Giant, by Kazuo Ishiguro, at the recommendation of my (former) Orion editor, Sumanth Prabhaker. As our own country tumbles towards civil war (slowly, but quickening, according to Jeff Sharlet), I found this exploration of memory and forgetting—when is it necessary to wipe one’s mind clean in order to live in peace?—haunting. And, in spite of there being dragons and knight errants, it reminded me of similar themes explored in Severance, which I am totally hooked on.
I got an early look at Sadie Babits’ forthcoming Hot Takes: Every Journalist’s Guide to Covering Climate Change (Island Press). I had the pleasure of serving with Sadie on the SEJ Board, and she followed me as president. Now, she’s the lead climate editor at NPR. Get this book on your radar!
Erica Berry’s book Wolfish was a brilliant exploration of fear and wildness, and her new piece, “The Fault of Time,” in Emergence, is equally captivating. Here’s her Substack.
I found “The End of Children” by Gideon Lewis-Kraus in The New Yorker fascinating and as troubling as it was intended to be. It explored so many facets of the transformation underway, but I also wanted more about the infertility that may be linked to environmental factors, and also the hesitancy I have heard many younger people express about bringing children into a world increasingly ravaged by climate change and other environmental disasters. Still very much worth a read.
And I’ll wait to buy Sewanee School of Letter’s colleague Tiana Clark’s new book of prose poems, Scorched Earth, in person from her this summer, but I had the pleasure of hearing her read some her work in the past. You don’t have to to wait. Available at all the good places (and the bad places, too) where you can buy books.

I leave you with this, pure joy and delight of a song sung in public, crammed in a narrow alley of Old Town, just last night. The rains cancelled Carnaval in Tarifa last week, but they’re happening this weekend. The town is all dressed up. People don themed costumes with their friends and families that are about not about your single individual uniqueness, but about what you can create in concert with your community. I couldn’t catch all the lyrics of this long song, but it seemed a ballad, each stanza ending with a punchline that made the crowd laugh and led to the next round of the story. I’ll have bum-bum-bum-bum-bum running through my head for days, making me smile each time. Hope it’s contagious.

{For video go to Substack}

Be well, friends. Be fierce. Be ready.

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Out of Order

February 4, 2025 By meerasub Leave a Comment

graffiti of girl being lifted by heart balloons

{latest Substack…}

Sentiments can be lost in translation, but also found. I’m out of the US but its mess spreads across the globe like its carbon emissions. The absolute least of it is was sitting in a cafe eating tortilla española and cringing as our new old president declared Spain is a BRICS nation (it isn’t). The most of it is hearing from friends and family about direct impacts: jobs lost, projects frozen, students with questionable immigration status disappeared. Last week, I stood with an Austrian woman and when the subject of our state of affairs came up, both of us speechless about the chaos the 47th has unleashed in a baker’s dozen worth of days, she said, of the country or the man, I’m not sure, that it’s “out of order.”

“Yes, yes! That’s the perfect phrase,” I exclaimed. “I’m going to use that.” And so here we are.

As I walked home afterwards, a woman alone, after midnight, feeling totally safe on the streets of Bilbao even as I walked through a group of a dozen men (oh, the sweet relief of not having cortisol continually coursing through one’s body; consider the whales; consider immigrants now being rounded up), I tumbled the phrase “out of order” around in mind. Out of order can mean broken, nonfunctional. It can indicate an experience of tumult and bedlam. It can also mean when someone steps of out of line, and acts in ways that are socially, ethically, morally improper. With the Austrian woman’s three words, she’d spoken a triple entendre.

To process this moment, I’m alternating between Jeff Sharlet’s Scenes from a Slow Civil War and Katharine Hayhoe’s Talking Climate, somehow finding solace in simultaneously recognizing how bad things are and how good they could be. Be? Maybe? Ayana Elizabeth Johnson reminds us to act locally. My form of protest is to dig deeper into my FRONTIERS fellowship work based at BC3, trying to understand all the dynamics at play in the efforts to shift our energy systems to cleaner forms of wind and solar, something that will continue to happen regardless of the white man in the White House. It’s led me to encouraging conversations about agrivoltaics in France and energy companies that build in community funds voluntarily, but also to a recurring and troubling story of conflict—a chasm between the rural and urban populations of the world—identical to what I’ve experienced in America, especially when I reported on conservative perceptions of climate change for Inside Climate News. I also attended an event, La Agenda Climática en La Nueva Legislatura Europa y su Impacto en Euskadi, The Climate Agenda in the New European Legislature and its impact in Basque Country. And we were right back to the impacts of the global shift to the far right. A sense of nervousness, geopolitics shaky, and the hope that energy independence in the form of renewables can be a part of regional security strategies.

panel discussion on climate and politics

Sweet dreams & flying machines…

There was also, last week, the horror over DC skies. Someone I love deeply and dearly has lost someone they love deeply and dearly in the unspeakable plane crash that ended in the Potomoc. She asked me for hard-won advice, knowing I have lost friends, this one, and this one, and others. Words fail, but I say something about letting the grief come when it will, to not fight it, to let it wash over you when it appears urgent and unexpected, even months, years, down the road of recovery. No, not recovery. Something else. Love and loss burnished into your being. But now the grief is immediate, and the only thing to do is take the unbidden reminder that life is short, precious. Love big. Hold loved ones close. Tell them. This is the other way we can act locally, in our most intimate lives.

As I’m exploring this new place, I’m searching for slivers of joy amid all this grief and allowing myself moments to recognize them. I found one, as the sun broke through the relentless clouds of Bilbao, of the news, on Friday afternoon, when I finally made it up Etxebarri Parkea. Once a factory site that has been transformed into a park overlooking the city, its tall smokestack is a reminder of what once was. There was a pond created to support birds and critters, and a skate park for humans to play.

When I walked by the skate park, I noticed two men on skateboards, then I noticed that one was much, much older than the other. I was intrigued. Circled around the park and returned to watch him as he made a smooth steady run across the shallow end. Then, as the younger skater was leaving, the older one recruited him to help him summit the last lip of his run. “Come help me,” he said. “Stand here, with one foot here and the other there, and then when I come up, take my hand.” The young man did exactly as told. They tried it 5-6 times, and the older man never quite made it. Except that, well, he’s already made it, right?

I took a picture of them both, then handed my phone to Nico, the 26-year-old German so he can forward it to himself. And Juanjo is telling us he’s famous. “Google me!” he instructed, and indeed there he is on YouTube and TikTok. He is 87 years old, older than ages of the young skater and me, combined. Some lives are unfairly cut short. Others are long, and embraced by the bodies that contain them.

Journalists & writers friends, take note…

For rising juniors and seniors pursuing journalism, consider applying to the Opening Doors, a new initiative aimed at increasing diversity in public media newsrooms. The two-year program will provide skills training, mentorship, and paid internships for ten BIPOC journalism students, with a focus on science, health, and economics reporting. Apply here.
The Uproot Project Fellowship offers funding to seven journalists to pursue reporting projects over the course of a year. Fellows will receive up to $2,000 to cover travel and other reporting expenses for their fellowship project. Learn more about the Uproot Project Fellowship and find this year’s application here. Deadline: 11:59pm on March 1, 2025
And to connect with poets who are using their art to face the climate crisis, check out the Hellbender Gathering of Poets, run by my friend and Sewanee colleague Nickole Brown. They’re gearing up for a fall gathering and having inspiring events along the way.
The Matthew Power Literary Reporting Award is a grant of $12,500 to support the work of a promising early-career nonfiction writer on a story that uncovers truths about the human condition. Matt was one of those dear friends we lost way too early. Deadline: Feb. 19

Take care, friends. Take care of each other.

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Step by Step

January 20, 2025 By meerasub Leave a Comment

reflections of buildings and a staircase that descends into the River Nervión in Bilbao, Spain — stairs descend into the Río Nervión, Bilbao, Spain

{latest Substack…}

I’ve crossed a border into Spain, and we’re all crossing tipping-point thresholds, too many to count. We’ve passed into 2025, already a quarter into this no-longer-new century of this still-quite-young millennium, and it took mere weeks before wildfires were consuming entire communities in southern California and floods making people flee their homes in Malaysia. Tomorrow, we pass into a new American administration that will make these stories even more frequent as we catapult into a future that feels all too tenuous. Still, still, I repeat like a mantra, it’s not too late, it’s not too late. See Katharine Hayhoe’s great recap of 2024 with lots of good actionable information to carry with you into the new year. She also offered a reminder that although we did indeed pass an entire year having crossed the threshold into a world 1.5 degrees Celsius warmer than pre-industrial times, we’re still not there in terms of the ten-year average that will mark our true failure to reach the goals set at the Paris Climate Accords. If thinking about the future feels daunting, I get it. Britt Wray has changed her Substack’s name from Gen Dread to Unthinkable, also the name of a new climate-mental health platform that has a host of resources for taking care of yourself. Check them out and repeat after me, it’s not too late, it’s not late…

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eARTh & España

December 16, 2024 By meerasub Leave a Comment

{Latest Substack}

Art has been my solace and fuel since the election. There was the antiquarian book show, where we witnessed the longevity of the written word. And a Georgia O’Keefe – Charles Moore exhibition at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. O’Keefe, whose work I’ve loved since I was a child, was “most interested in the holes in the bones—what I saw through them—particularly the blue from holding them up against the sky…they were most wonderful against the Blue—that Blue that will always be there as it is now after all man’s destruction is finished.” A perfect thought for this particular moment of beauty and terror.

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a measure of gratitude

November 13, 2024 By meerasub Leave a Comment

Not all stories need to be told. I held on to one closely since 2018 and then, last year, something shifted. Maybe it was hitting a five-year mark. Maybe it was being immersed in the writerly world of Sewanee School of Letters, where most summers I teach creative nonfiction atop the verdant Southern Cumberland Plateau in eastern Tennessee, drowned in cicada song. In the classroom, I was asking my students to take risks, to be brave, to put blood on the page. Could I?

And so I began to pull from journals and letters, audio recordings and pictures. All to track the arc of a friendship that began, well, here’s how the piece that emerged begins:

We were two women on either side of thirty throwing punches at one another’s faces in a concrete stairwell abuzz with florescent light. Our instructor showed us how to make a fist (thumbs on the outside), take aim, and put our weight into the shot. I threw punches at her first. She was younger than I was by a handful of years and just as racially ambiguous. Then it was her turn, and I jerked my head to the side to dodge impact, heard the whoosh of fist through air. Fight Club for girls. New York University. Coles Rec Center, 2004. Fourteen years before the surgery.

“A Measure of Gratitude,” just published in the fall issue of the Virginia Quarterly Review, is about the power of female friendships and the burden of gratitude. It’s about sickness and health. The prospect of dying and the act of living. It’s about seeking and hoping and letting go and finding. There is cancer, the swapping of body parts, Peter Singer, the Bhagavad Gita, and bluefish, cooked up with cracker crumbs as new love blooms.

What would you sacrifice for a friendship? This Peregrinations post is public so feel free to share it.

And in some strange way, it’s about how to respond to events like what happened last week at the American ballot box and what will happen in the years to come. How unraveling on the outside can sometimes lead to clarity within. Another snippet from the piece:

Michael waited for my answer. I considered my deepening cynicism, my daily grief. We had a madman scheming in the White House. People were scaling up their assaults—on fellow humans, other species, entire ecosystems, the planet. The world I loved was aflame and the fire spreading. I looked at Michael. “I want to see more good in the world,” I heard myself telling him, “so why not do something…good?” It suddenly seemed achingly simple.

I hope you’ll make a nice cup of tea or pour a glass of wine, put your phone into silent mode, and take the time to read “A Measure of Gratitude.” Maybe afterwards, you’ll decide to dance, or kiss someone, or call up an old friend.

It was a pleasure and honor to once again work with the brilliant editor Paul Reyes at VQR, an ad-free, just-shy-of-a-century-old, award-winning literary magazine that I hope you’ll consider subscribing to so it may exist for another ninety-nine years. And the commissioned illustration by artist Hanna Barczyk is just perfect.

Not all stories need to be told. But, taking a deep breath, I’m glad this one is finally out there.

thanks for reading,

~meera

{Subscribe to my Substack for more of this}

the art of being present

November 13, 2024 By meerasub Leave a Comment

panorama of Colorado River with two rafts in view

Three rounds in the laundry and there’s still sand in my socks. I like the grit that remains. It’s been over a week since we took out from a bucket list rafting trip down the Colorado River. I adventured there with my husband and his eldest, 226 miles of the river’s reach, from Lee’s Ferry to Diamond Creek, traveling into the depths of what this great earth holds, a truly Grand Canyon.

New layers of rock revealed themselves to us each day as our seven boats moved downstream. Six oar boats and one paddle boat. Some of us slipped into kayaks at times. Us twenty guests in a continual rotation between boats, sometimes paddling, deep strokes into deep green cold water, or relaxing through some stretches, or holding on for dear life as we crashed through the rapids of Granite, Horn, Lava Falls. We pulled onto beaches for hikes into slot canyons, or to go swimming in the Little Colorado River, a tributary with otherworldly pastel blue waters. We passed through sacred lands. All of it felt sacred. I kept feeling like I needed to ask permission. I did, and felt (hope) it was granted. Navajo, Havasupai, Hualapai. And something deeper and more eternal, before even those people arrived, when this place was sea, inhabited by sponges, crinoids, brachiopods, lava flowing and transforming, land masses moving.

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Enter…Substack.

November 13, 2024 By meerasub Leave a Comment

Hello, friends and future friends.

Welcome to Peregrinations

I write with an invitation. I hope you’ll subscribe and join me for my new Substack, Peregrinations, a place for those who love the natural world. Whose hearts crack a little at its beauty and wonders, and also at its destruction. Those who want to understand how this glorious and broken planet works, and how we might help make it work better, for everyone. I’ve been covering the environment as a journalist for nearly twenty years, writing for magazines and newspapers around the world, as well as a book about how ordinary Indians are facing environmental crises. Check out my About page for more. But Peregrinations is something else….

The world gets bigger, and smaller, all at the same time.

But our hunger for connection continues unabated. I used to amass stacks of letters, pen on paper. Then there was a zine (rrrrl girlz!). Then a blog. Then Twitter, which felt in the early days like the temporary autonomous zone that it could have been, but is now a dark hole of misery run by a man who might actually be a machine. So let’s try coming together here, on Substack. You. And me. An itty bitty way to stay connected. For now, it’ll be occasional and free.

What to expect:

latest pieces and unpublished oldies
advance notice of classes and events
recommended readings
craft tips on creative nonfiction and publishing
photos
outtakes from reporting trips that don’t quite fit the final piece, but carry a story of their own
and birds, likely raptors, cutting through the sky, leaving a slipstream all their own

From the shelf of inspiration in my office. Art by Danica Novgorodoff.

Writing this Warming World

From climate change to climate catastrophe to existential crisis, the vocabulary of our changing planet is quickly escalating in urgency. Writers are responding. Join me this November as I lead an Off Assignment Master Series class. Each week we’ll have a guest author join us, including the incredibly talented writers Emily Raboteau, Elizabeth Rush, J. Drew Lanham & Helen Macdonald. Registration is open now. Join us live or asynchronously. Scholarships are available, and just reach out to me if you want a discount code. I have a few left to give out. Register for Writing this Warming World here! And please spread the word to anyone else who might be interested.

Summer of Great Books

The summer of 2024 was a summer of superb reading experiences. Just a few of my favorites:

Two-Step Devil by Jamie Quatro, (I have the good fortune of teaching with Jamie at Sewanee School of Letters each summer, which is when she placed an advance copy in my hands). The New York Times called it “theologically avant-garde and emotionally supple.” I couldn’t agree more. The story of the outsider artist and the girl he’s trying to save was multi-layered story of good and evil and intentions and escape. A page-turner.
Orbital by Samantha Harvey transformed my world when I read it in the Appalachian woods this summer in Tennessee, now seeing my surroundings from the elevated vantage of the few who look down on us from the International Space Station. Samantha zoomed in to Jamie Quatro’s fiction class, which I sat in on, and she is a delightful, delighted human. Orbital is now shortlisted for the Booker Prize. Also, read this wonderful review by James Wood in The New Yorker and just get lost in the videos…
The Serviceberrry by Robin Wall Kimmerer. I’ve got a review coming up in Scientific American. More soon!
Reboot by Justin Taylor. Justin is the director of the Sewanee School of Letters and a voracious collector of ideas gleaned from music and gaming and esoteric religions and more. It all comes together in this romp of a novel. You can find him here on Substack.
Love is a Burning Thing by Nina St. Pierre is a brilliant first book by Nina, who I cam to know when we selected her as one of our Religion & Environment Story Project fellows. She is a captivating person, and this book shows how being the daughter of a loving but struggling and seeking mother—and the survival Nina had to find for herself—helped make her who she is.
Prophet by Helen Macdonald and Sin Blaché. I toppled for Helen Macdonald’s writing with H is for Hawk. This is completely different and completely wonderful. A queer sci-fi novel about using nostalgia as a method of war. I couldn’t put it down.

Vote!

When Joe Biden withdrew from the US presidential race this summer, it seemed like the biggest story in the world, but something else happened that Sunday. It was the hottest day in recorded history, followed by another record-breaker. Expect more. Now the race is between Donald Trump and Kamala Harris, and the difference between the two candidates couldn’t be more stark. Read this piece from Yale Climate Connections, then read science journalist Michelle Nijhuis’s Substack piece on reading through Project 2025. Register. Vote. Act.

Socials:

I’m done with Twitter. Please come find me at Bluesky: @meerasub.bsky.social and Instagram: @meerasub. But more than anything, I hope you’ll SUBSCRIBE!

Hope to see you back here, soon!

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Covering Climate Now Award

July 10, 2024 By meerasub Leave a Comment

Super honored to join so many other amazing journalists honored with Covering Climate Now Awards yesterdayy! Solutions! Thanks to the great editors at The New Yorker, photographer Supranav Dash & local journalist Elizabeth Mani, the team behind the story—India’s Quest to Build the largest Solar Farms—about the world’s third largest solar farm, located in Karnataka, India.

Here’s what the judges said:

Through deep interviews with peanut farmers, school teachers, government officials, and vulnerable Dalit women — who’ve lost access to farmland they cultivated for generations — Subramanian creates a textured examination of the tradeoffs and power imbalances that the green transition might portend. “Fascinating,” judges said, Subramanian’s work quickly hooks audiences, and her “lovely writing” keeps them reading.

Thanks also to the judges for their time and Covering Climate Now for amplifying these stories that span our warming planet. Check out all the wonderful winning work HERE.

#journalism #climatechange #climatecrisis #awards #amplify

Writing this Warming World

June 26, 2024 By meerasub Leave a Comment

**Join me and four brilliant writers this fall! Registration open now! **

From climate change to climate catastrophe to existential crisis, the vocabulary of our changing planet is quickly escalating in urgency. Writers are responding. Whether you are just finding your way into this space or have been writing about the natural world for years, this class is designed to help you find the right words to meet this moment of metamorphosis. How do we bring the personal and planetary together? How do we render beauty in a world aflame? In what ways is the state of the planet changing the shape of our lives? As chroniclers of the natural world under transformation, how does our ink find the fine line between hope and despair, or should it?

Led by author and journalist Meera Subramanian, this four-week course explores writing the twinned experience of climate grief and fierce love for the planet. Conversations with guest authors Emily Raboteau, Elizabeth Rush, J. Drew Lanham, and Helen Macdonald will shed light on the unique challenges that nature writers and climate journalists face. Learn how these five exemplary writers who cross genres in the climate space today are navigating common conundrums.

We’ll look closely at the work of our guest authors to deepen our understanding of best practices in portraying the physical world as it changes. We’ll analyze craft but also make space for thornier issues such as political realities and flagging morale. We’ll discuss the use of braided essays and other structural devices that are especially useful to storytellers and journalists in this niche, and get practical about how to deepen narratives with research and reporting.

Students will get weekly writing prompts and assignments to catalyze their climate writing, giving you the tools you need to work towards a solid draft essay by the end of the course. Although we will not be workshopping, there will be ample opportunities to ask questions and share struggles and insights. Participants will also receive a suggested reading list to serve as inspiration beyond the last class, as well as a list of outlets that publish climate-related writing or that are especially interested in stories with a strong element of place or nature.

This course will take place on Zoom on Sundays, November 3-24 from 12 to 2 p.m. EST. Participants will receive a Zoom link prior to the course as well as a recording of the course afterwards. We cannot offer refunds once the course has begun. Please email [email protected] with any questions.

A limited number of scholarships may be available for this course; please send a brief statement outlining how and why a scholarship would impact your ability to attend to [email protected] by October 14 and we’ll get back to you by October 21.

Off Assignment’s Masters’ Series courses are unique four-session courses on in-depth writing topics that harness the perspectives and craft tactics of a lead instructor plus celebrated guest lecturers, such that participating writers gain a wealth of input while benefiting from the cohesive leadership of one renowned writer in a particular niche of nonfiction.

Consider the Vulture

January 31, 2024 By meerasub Leave a Comment

For close to twenty years, I’ve covered the catastrophic decline, and tentative recovery, of South Asia’s vultures. In my book A River Runs Again, I took a deep dive into the situation in India. Last year, I went to Nepal to cover a new chapter in the story, as the country’s captive-breeding program came to a close, and the last birds were released back into the wild. The story was published today at The New Yorker. Here’s a bit:

We were in a microcosm of abundance in a landscape of loss: most of the nine vulture species found in South Asia were there in front of us. We watched white-rumped vultures, whose neck ruffles look like seventeenth-century formal wear, and Himalayan griffons, which are larger and paler. We also saw an immense cinereous vulture; a red-headed vulture with fuschia wattles; and a small Egyptian vulture. Nepali pointed out a slender-billed vulture. According to the I.U.C.N. Red List of Threatened Species, there are less than one thousand mature individuals left in the world.

One bird tugged at the cow’s head, which was now detached. The vultures were so gross that they were gorgeous. It’s easy to shun vultures as dirty and disgusting, or as harbingers of death, but they are more like undertakers, performing an essential job and receiving little thanks for their work. As obligate scavengers, vultures survive almost exclusively on what is already dead.

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