When I started this blog, I wasn’t really sure what I was going for. I wanted to provide something informative, but mainly inspirational stuff. I was tired of feeling like the only female to have ever decided to travel to Africa alone. From the responses I got from people you would think I was putting myself up for voluntary execution. So, I figured that if I put my experiences out for the general public to read, maybe someone would eventually stumble upon it and be motivated to get out of whatever rut he/she may be in. I figured that the blog could go one of two ways. It could be complete crap and die a sad and lonely internet death. Or, it could be pretty awesome.
50-50 odds. Good enough for me.
So I just started writing whatever I wanted, when I wanted, about what I wanted. Clearly, it was always travel related, because (hello!) I was traveling (or preparing for it). Thankfully, I stopped early on trying to be the Lonely Planet, Oprah, and the Travel Planet all rolled into one. Although I’m certain that if I had tried, I would have given Oprah a run for her money 
And here I am. Almost a full year after this whole idea was first coined. Almost a whole year after I first decided that I was going to pack up my life and leave the country. I’m pretty sure I remember the moment. I believe it involved wine. Most good decisions in my life involve wine.
Well, I’m still writing and I’m still loving it. Still feeling like I haven’t even scratched the surface on the amount of information and experiences I could share with people.
As far as writing goes, what problems have I had being on the move?
Well, to write on a blog, one needs to have that silly thing called internet. No big deal, really. Easy as pie to find. Unless of course, you’re in developing countries or, I don’t know…in the rainforest.
Yep, the biggest problem has been getting internet connection.
Can this be changed at all? Heck to the no. It cannot.
What have I done to make it better? I often have intense writing sessions where I write six to ten articles at once. I then upload them to my blog, and stagger when they are “published” to the public. So, in fact, when you often read posts or articles I’ve written…they were written up to a month before, and I’m actually nowhere near an internet source.
This has caused a lot of confusion with close friends and family, who will see my blog being updated tri-weekly, yet I’m nowhere to be found. This was especially true when my blog was being updated while I was in the rainforest for two months.
Secondly, I just simply do not have enough time to write as much as I’d like to. As you all know, I have spent most of my time working. Even when I’m not working, I’ve been working on a handful of other projects, including my charity, writing up research papers, and looking up graduate school information.
Thankfully I have a few options on the table, and I’m hoping I can get more of my thoughts out there soon!
The last big problem I’ve encountered with travel writing is censorship. Having never taken any journalism classes, I was naïve enough to think that my little, insignificant blog and newspaper articles wouldn’t affect anyone. News flash (pun intended): they do. I found out all too fast that everything I write about, however mundane and boring, does have the power to affect other people.
The age-old mantra about the “power of words” has never rung as true to me as it has in the past year.
Do I still love what I’m doing? Yes. I do.
I would never, ever want to get back the hours that I’ve spent writing, emailing, crying, or smiling for this blog. As much as this is written for other people, it is also written for me.
Although I often cannot write a lot of the things I experience, this has functioned as a way for me to process the life-changing (cliché, I know) experiences I have. I am able to believe that my friends and family back home are up-to-date on my life.
Will I ever stop? God, what a thought. Of course I cannot, and I don’t want to always be the “backpacking chica”. But will I always be writing? I think so.
It is, after all, the writer’s curse to turn every event into the chapter for a novel.
I’ll take the curse. With pride.
