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Tyler Oaks on the Move: Writing on the Road
“Experience, travel – these are education in themselves.” - Euripides
Airports, taxis, hotels, no quiet, too much quiet: Writing while traveling is nothing like home. When we write in the towns we live in we have our own unique rituals. We find the hours, places and environments that suit our lifestyles and stick with what is most productive. Writing on the road, whether on a book tour or on a trip to the other side of the planet, mixes everything up. Without a doubt, travel is both necessary and inspiring. That said, it does take skill and an open mind to work a story far from home.
Every writer does it differently. When I travel I never take my laptop; just a small notebook. I jot down impressions and ideas, swirling them around the pages in a way I can’t on the computer. While exploring new terrain or sitting on a train I’m less concerned with typing narrations than watching and using my senses. I record thoughts the characters have as I walk through neighborhoods or eat downtown. Scenes play out in front of me, and I’m aware how my characters would react. Locations become real; experiences, first-hand. Even without a computer nothing will be lost because I’ve walked through the story and place in the flesh.
I’ve heard several writers talk about writing scenes set in cities they have never been to. They admit to using the satellite feature on Google maps. Although technology can take you down to street level, looking through a screen can never substitute for living a place in real life. I get lost often enough to love map programs, but even 360 degree vision is deceptive. The view is silent; there is no sense of smell or touch. To write a believable story, the location has to be tasted firsthand, even if only for a night. If the characters are new to a place, then the writer’s first impressions are even more valuable. Longer and multiple visits are definitely necessary if any great portion of a story is going to be set in a location where the author is unfamiliar.
Where to write on the road varies as much as a writer’s style. I personally haven’t mastered the art of writing well in public, whether on plane or at a busy café, which just so happens to be where I’m writing this column. I get up too much. I walk over to study a leaf or run my fingers along the rim of my glass. That is why notebooks work so well on the road. I can sketch, write down a single word while I’m in line or record a conversation in scribbles only I understand. Everything I write or draw can be used later when I’m back at home with my laptop. To me, traveling is all about random thoughts that can be strung together later. I would miss everything valuable on the road if I were overly concerned with structure.
I realize that this completely clear-headed method of writing will disagree with this column, but writing on the road means being led as much as it means leading. Stories change along with the people in them. A long, grueling trip becomes worth the aggravation it brings if only for the quick idea jotted down on the napkin. As I was waiting for a friend to join me for dinner recently, I found myself seated alone next to a fish tank. An excessively large orange fish stared at me through the glass. I stared back for a long time. Her scales, her eyes, the lonely way she moved; the fish revealed to me more about a story I’m working on than any measure of forced thought. I took out my notebook, jotted down a few words, and smiled at the fish. That couldn’t have happened at home.
