Last week as i walked along my street in New York City i came to a box of books sitting outside someone’s house. For anyone that has spent any real amount of time in this city you would know this is not uncommon. People here leave everything on the street, i found a flat screen pc monitor yesterday. In this box of books, for i always look through the boxes of books, and have brought home far more books than i will read; however my mother and girlfriend digest books like i do food. Rapidly and regularly, hehe. As i got to the bottom of this fruitless pile i came across a title that intrigued me: America’s Best Travel Writes, 2002. I couldn’t help myself really and to my own three days ago i picked it up and started reading. The first story i couldn’t get more than two pages in before huffing in disgust. The next story proved interesting, a mans account of the World Trade bombings in NY in 2001. A good account, a different approach and i enjoyed it. This morning while lying in the bath, yes i take baths, i read a piece on hunting birds in Mongolia.
You see i’ve never read travel literature before. Despite my many travels and my writing regularly on my travels i’ve never felt particularly comfortable in this field. I am now starting to understand why, i never understood travel writing for what it really can be. The stories in the daily paper, these shit little topic pieces that go on about some holiday destination, that’s not me, that’s not what i can write, I’ve taken classes on writing like that, it’s anemia to me! I’m discovering now, as i’m writing this that my new smaller keyboard, on my new smaller laptop is a challenge!
So here i sit, still working on my book, many years on and i’m realizing that perhaps i can do some travel writing pieces. All it will take is finishing this book and probably a few more, maybe even diving into a bit of Bill Bryson. On second thought, i might not be that desperate!
