Tag: Books

What I learned about writing – Mortal danger and the story that saves you

The Scheherazade Challenge: If My Life (and Your Attention) Depended On It…

Let’s play a dangerous game, shall we?

Imagine, for a fleeting moment, that the weight of an ancient dynasty rests on your shoulders. The Sultan, broken by betrayal and consumed by cynicism, has vowed to take a new bride each night and execute her by dawn. And then, there’s you. A single, fragile life against the tide of his despair, with only one weapon: a story.

Not just any story. A story so compelling, so intricate, so profoundly human, that it can outwit the executioner, melt a frozen heart, and stretch the boundaries of time itself. Your very survival, the fate of all women in the kingdom, hinges on your ability to spin a tale that leaves the Sultan hanging on your every word, desperate for the next sunrise to reveal its continuation.

Now, take a deep breath. We’re not in a dusty, lamp-lit palace, and (thankfully) my head isn’t on a literal chopping block. But as a writer in this wild, wonderful, and wonderfully noisy digital age, there are still stakes. My “Sultan” is you, dear reader, scrolling through an endless bazaar of content. My “dawn” is the moment you might click away, drawn by the siren song of another tab. And my “life” (or at least, my creative soul and my ability to connect with you) depends on telling an amazing story.

So, if I were Scheherazade, faced with that impossible mandate, what tale would I weave?

It wouldn’t be a simple adventure, nor a flat romance. It would need layers, heart, and a message so subtle yet profound that it could soften the hardest of souls.

My Life-Saving Story: “The Loom of Whispers and the Cartographer of Hidden Threads”

My story would begin in a city unlike any other, not built of stone and mortar, but of stories themselves. Let’s call it Aethelgard, the City of Echoes. Its streets are paved with forgotten proverbs, its buildings rise from ancient legends, and the very air hums with the whispers of every life ever lived within its bounds.

Our protagonist would be Elara, not a warrior or a princess, but a reclusive Cartographer of Hidden Threads. Her unique gift (and burden) is that she can see the invisible, iridescent threads that connect every living being in Aethelgard. Each thread represents a shared experience, a glance exchanged, a kindness given, a betrayal suffered, a dream whispered in unison. Most people only see their own thread, a solitary line stretching from their heart. But Elara sees the entirety: a magnificent, terrifying, ever-shifting tapestry of countless lives interwoven.

The story would begin with a creeping malaise. Aethelgard, once vibrant, is losing its colour. Its echoes are fading. People are growing isolated, suspicious, convinced their own struggles are unique and paramount. The threads, once brilliantly intertwined, are fraying, even breaking. Elara knows the city is dying because its people are forgetting how deeply they are connected.

Her quest is not to slay a monster, but to mend the tapestry. She must journey not across lands, but through the stories themselves.

Each night, I would begin one of Elara’s “thread-following” expeditions:

  • Night One: She follows a flickering, almost invisible thread from a lonely old baker who believes no one cares for him. The thread leads her back through generations, revealing how his great-grandmother, a woman he never knew, once saved a merchant’s fortune with a single, anonymous act of kindness, and how that merchant’s lineage later funded the very orphanage where the baker himself found refuge as a child. The baker’s life, he would discover, was built on an ancient, forgotten thread of generosity.
  • Night Two: Elara traces a taut, angry thread between two feuding families, their hatred centuries old. As she follows it, she uncovers the true origin: not a grand slight, but a misinterpreted joke, a stolen flower, and a series of escalating misunderstandings, each fueled by pride and a refusal to truly listen. But she also finds faint counter-threads – moments of shared joy, unspoken longing for peace, nearly-forgiven transgressions – that still hum beneath the surface.
  • Night Three: She investigates a vibrant thread of innovation and creativity, discovering it’s not the solitary genius of a famous artist, but the culmination of countless, unacknowledged inspirations: a child’s forgotten drawing, a beggar’s hummed tune, a weaver’s discarded pattern, each contributing a vital, invisible strand to the masterpiece.

Through Elara’s journey, the Sultan (and you, dear reader) would witness the profound irony of human existence: we are all singular, yet inextricably bound. Our greatest joys and deepest pains are rarely our own alone. Every act, every word, every silence sends ripples through the great tapestry.

The “cliffhanger” each night wouldn’t be a sword fight, but a dawning realisation. Elara would be on the verge of revealing a crucial, heart-wrenching, or profoundly beautiful connection that implicates seemingly disparate characters, perhaps even hinting at the Sultan’s own lineage, his own perceived isolation, as being a part of this vast, interconnected web.

The story would be a mirror, reflecting the Sultan’s own life back at him – not judging, but revealing. It would show him that just as a breaking thread in the farthest corner of Aethelgard could unravel the entire city, so too did his own actions send tremors through the lives of everyone around him. It would demonstrate that true power comes not from severing connections, but from understanding and honouring them.

By the final night, the Sultan wouldn’t just be entertained; he would be transformed. He would see himself not as an isolated ruler, but as a vital, powerful weaver in the Loom of Whispers. And with that understanding, perhaps, the desire to cut threads would vanish, replaced by a profound respect for the intricate, beautiful, and utterly inescapable tapestry of life.

What about you? If your life depended on it, what story would you tell? And what hidden threads would you uncover?

365 Days of writing, 2026 – My Second Story 19

More about my second novel

…

Rupert follows Worthington and Arabella to and from the concert, and then observes them over dinner, wondering what it is that’s missing in his life until they go back to the room for the night.

To him, it seems like it’s just a sex weekend with cultural embellishments.

Until he spies Worthington on the move at two am, leaving the hotel on foot.  It turns into a meeting between him and two other men in the park before Worthington returns to the hotel, business concluded.

It has to be something to do with John and Zoe; otherwise, the meeting would have been in the hotel, not the deep recesses of the park.  Rupert has photographs and gives them to Sebastian for identification.

At least they now know the reason for Worthington being in Vienna.  Arabella just makes it look more casual.

John breaks his plan to Zoe over breakfast, and she is surprised.  It’s a good plan, and once she had dealt with the problems, it would be a go.

And, she added quite sombrely, if they all survive.

The bad news was that she would be leaving the next morning to visit an old friend, Dominica, who probably isn’t so friendly now, to get information.  And, no, she was not sure what would happen after that, but if she could, she would call him.

With the two men identified and the danger they presented, Sebastian had to move to plan B and set it up.  He deliberately doesn’t tell either of them because he knows they would strenuously object.

The plan:  sniper to shoot them from a building across the road, not to kill, but to slow them down.  It would be difficult to be out plotting when in the emergency ward of a hospital.

But, as usual, things don’t quite go to plan.  Worthington is hit and wounded, though not severely as Sebastian had hoped, but Arabella moved slightly just before he pulled the trigger, and he couldn’t see what happened, but what he could see, it looked very, very bad.

…

…

365 Days of writing, 2026 – My Second Story 19

More about my second novel

…

Rupert follows Worthington and Arabella to and from the concert, and then observes them over dinner, wondering what it is that’s missing in his life until they go back to the room for the night.

To him, it seems like it’s just a sex weekend with cultural embellishments.

Until he spies Worthington on the move at two am, leaving the hotel on foot.  It turns into a meeting between him and two other men in the park before Worthington returns to the hotel, business concluded.

It has to be something to do with John and Zoe; otherwise, the meeting would have been in the hotel, not the deep recesses of the park.  Rupert has photographs and gives them to Sebastian for identification.

At least they now know the reason for Worthington being in Vienna.  Arabella just makes it look more casual.

John breaks his plan to Zoe over breakfast, and she is surprised.  It’s a good plan, and once she had dealt with the problems, it would be a go.

And, she added quite sombrely, if they all survive.

The bad news was that she would be leaving the next morning to visit an old friend, Dominica, who probably isn’t so friendly now, to get information.  And, no, she was not sure what would happen after that, but if she could, she would call him.

With the two men identified and the danger they presented, Sebastian had to move to plan B and set it up.  He deliberately doesn’t tell either of them because he knows they would strenuously object.

The plan:  sniper to shoot them from a building across the road, not to kill, but to slow them down.  It would be difficult to be out plotting when in the emergency ward of a hospital.

But, as usual, things don’t quite go to plan.  Worthington is hit and wounded, though not severely as Sebastian had hoped, but Arabella moved slightly just before he pulled the trigger, and he couldn’t see what happened, but what he could see, it looked very, very bad.

…

…

What I learned about writing – Writing a story to astonish the reader

I was sitting down and wondering just what I could write that would create a sense of astonishment, or even shock the reader.

Then my news feed arced up and – well, I have to say I’m astonished.

At the state of American politics, and the lengths political parties will go to avoid getting caught, especially when they’ve been caught.

I utterly refuse to believe that the Democratic Party is to blame for absolutely everything in America. It takes a long time to completely stuff everything up, and both parties have a hand in all the problems.

It’s the same in Australia. We’ve got a lot of problems, but no one party has caused them; they are caused by both, and a lot to do with election cycles. No one wants to set in place the 10-year cycle it would take to fix things.

Then, I have to say it is the same everywhere.

The next thing that flashes up in the news cycle, pedophiles. OK, not the domain of one party, but everyone has a hand in this. And it is abhorrent, and we say we don’t tolerate it, but the fact is, politicians, judges, policemen, lawyers, doctors, priests and even presidents are complicit. The thing is, we all know they’re complicit, we want answers and arrests, and somehow it all gets buried.

Shock!

Or not.

It’s no surprise, no shock, and we are not even astonished when the politicians from the top down, and then the law enforcement officers, all lie, lie, lie, and then lie again.

And we let them.

There’s the shock, right there.

And the next shock? Nothing is going to happen. We’ll be talking about this in four years, and no one will be arrested. Someone might commit suicide (ha bloody ha), absolving the guilty.

If the Republicans are in power, it’s all the Democrats who are pedophiles, and if the Democrats are in power then it’s all the Republicans who are pedophiles, and when you can’t even believe in or trust your president, well, what hope is there for all those victims?

Oh, hang on, we seem to have forgotten about the victims. I was a victim. I know what it’s like to be abused. I know what it’s like not to get justice. I know what it’s like to listen to the lies of the perpetrator and watch him get away with it.

I cannot be shocked, surprised or astonished anymore.

What would shock me?

Just one of those turds being hung at noon in a public square as a reminder that it will not be tolerated.

Rant over!

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 135

Day 135 – Win the right contests

…

The Starving Artist Myth: Why You Should Chase Paychecks, Not Just Prestige

In the writing community, there’s a persistent, romanticised image of the “struggling artist.” We’re told that if we just sacrifice enough comfort—if we skip enough meals and keep our bank accounts sufficiently drained—we will somehow be more “authentic.”

But let’s be real for a second: You cannot write a masterpiece on an empty stomach.

If you are looking to build a sustainable writing career, you need to be strategic about where you invest your energy. When it comes to writing contests and submission calls, it’s time to stop chasing prestige and start prioritising your survival.

The Problem with “Prestige”

There is no denying the allure of a prestigious award. Seeing a fancy logo next to your name or receiving a pat on the back from a renowned institution feels incredible. It validates your talent and strokes your ego.

But here is the hard truth: Prestige does not pay the rent.

When you spend your limited writing time crafting pieces specifically to chase awards that offer nothing but a digital badge or a line on your resume, you are essentially working for free. Worse, you are trading the precious hours you could be spending on your long-form projects for a fleeting moment of hollow validation.

Why You Need to Prioritise the Prize

Writing is work. It is intellectual labour, and like any other form of labour, it deserves compensation.

When you seek out contests with cash prizes, you aren’t being “sell-out.” You are being a professional. That prize money serves a dual purpose:

  1. It keeps you fed: You need electricity, internet, and groceries to keep the creative engine running.
  2. It buys you time: If you can win a prize that covers a month’s worth of expenses, that is one month you don’t have to spend at a soul-sucking day job. It’s one month where you can focus entirely on that novel—the one that lives in your head and needs your undivided attention to finally make it onto the page.

The “Later” Philosophy

Don’t get me wrong—prestige has its place. But that place is later.

Once you have established your footing, once you have mastered your craft, and once you have a body of work that has been funded by the very industry you are trying to enter, then you can afford the luxury of chasing accolades.

But right now? Right now, you are building your foundation. You are cultivating the experiences, the discipline, and the financial stability required to produce your best work. You cannot reach the peak of the mountain if you are too malnourished to climb the first few hundred feet.

How to Strategise Your Submissions

Next time you find yourself browsing Submittable or a contest directory, try applying these three rules:

  • The Bottom Line: Does this contest offer a cash prize that would meaningfully impact my life or support my writing time? If the answer is no, skip it.
  • The Time-to-Value Ratio: If the entry fee is high and the prize is obscure prestige, save your money. Invest that entry fee into a book on craft or a subscription to a platform that actually helps your writing process.
  • The Novel Priority: Is this contest helping you build toward your larger goal (your novel), or is it a distraction? If it doesn’t align with your long-term creative vision, don’t let it siphon your energy.

Final Thoughts

Your voice is valuable, and your time is a finite resource. Treat your writing like the profession it is. Stop waiting for the world to notice you through a gold-leafed certificate and start focusing on the work that sustains your life.

Feed yourself first. The masterpiece will come, but it will come when you are strong enough to carry it to the finish line.

…

“The Things we do for Love”, the story behind the story

This story has been ongoing since I was seventeen, and just to let you know, I’m 72 this year.

Yes, it’s taken a long time to get it done.

Why, you might ask.

Well, I never gave it much interest because I started writing it after a small incident when I was 17, and working as a book packer for a book distributor in Melbourne

At the end of my first year, at Christmas, the employer had a Christmas party, and that year, it was at a venue in St Kilda.

I wasn’t going to go because at that age, I was an ordinary boy who was very introverted and basically scared of his own shadow and terrified by girls.

Back then, I would cross the street to avoid them

Also, other members of the staff in the shipping department were rough and ready types who were not backwards in telling me what happened, and being naive, perhaps they knew I’d be either shocked or intrigued.

I was both adamant I wasn’t coming and then got roped in on a dare.

Damn!

So, back then, in the early 70s, people looked the other way when it came to drinking, and of course, Dutch courage always takes away the concerns, especially when normally you wouldn’t do half the stuff you wouldn’t in a million years

I made it to the end, not as drunk and stupid as I thought I might be, and St Kilda being a salacious place if you knew where to look, my new friends decided to give me a surprise.

It didn’t take long to realise these men were ‘men about town’ as they kept saying, and we went on an odyssey.  Yes, those backstreet brothels where one could, I was told, have anything they could imagine.

Let me tell you, large quantities of alcohol and imagination were a very bad mix.

So, the odyssey in ‘The things we do’ was based on that, and then the encounter with Diana. Well, let’s just say I learned a great deal about girls that night.

Firstly, not all girls are nasty and spiteful, which seemed to be the case whenever I met one. There was a way to approach, greet, talk to, and behave.

It was also true that I could have had anything I wanted, but I decided what was in my imagination could stay there.  She was amused that all I wanted was to talk, but it was my money, and I could spend it how I liked.

And like any 17-year-old naive fool, I fell in love with her and had all these foolish notions.  Months later, I went back, but she had moved on, to where no one was saying or knew.

Needless to say, I was heartbroken and had to get over that first loss, which, like any 17-year-old, was like the end of the world.

But it was the best hour I’d ever spent in my life and would remain so until I met the woman I have been married to for the last 48 years.

As Henry, he was in part based on a rebel, the son of rich parents who despised them and their wealth, and he used to regale anyone who would listen about how they had messed up his life

If only I’d come from such a background!

And yes, I was only a run away from climbing up the stairs to get on board a ship, acting as a purser.

I worked for a shipping company and they gave their junior staff members an opportunity to spend a year at sea working as a purser on a cargo ship that sailed between Melbourne, Sydney and Hobart in Australia.

One of the other junior staff members’ turn came, and I would visit him on board when he would tell me stories about life on board, the officers, the crew, and other events. These stories, which sounded incredible to someone so impressionable, were a delight to hear.

Alas, by that time, I had tired of office work and moved on to be a tradesman at the place where my father worked.

It proved to be the right move, as that is where I met my wife.  Diana had been right; love would find me when I least expected it.

…

lovecoverfinal1

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 135

Day 135 – Win the right contests

…

The Starving Artist Myth: Why You Should Chase Paychecks, Not Just Prestige

In the writing community, there’s a persistent, romanticised image of the “struggling artist.” We’re told that if we just sacrifice enough comfort—if we skip enough meals and keep our bank accounts sufficiently drained—we will somehow be more “authentic.”

But let’s be real for a second: You cannot write a masterpiece on an empty stomach.

If you are looking to build a sustainable writing career, you need to be strategic about where you invest your energy. When it comes to writing contests and submission calls, it’s time to stop chasing prestige and start prioritising your survival.

The Problem with “Prestige”

There is no denying the allure of a prestigious award. Seeing a fancy logo next to your name or receiving a pat on the back from a renowned institution feels incredible. It validates your talent and strokes your ego.

But here is the hard truth: Prestige does not pay the rent.

When you spend your limited writing time crafting pieces specifically to chase awards that offer nothing but a digital badge or a line on your resume, you are essentially working for free. Worse, you are trading the precious hours you could be spending on your long-form projects for a fleeting moment of hollow validation.

Why You Need to Prioritise the Prize

Writing is work. It is intellectual labour, and like any other form of labour, it deserves compensation.

When you seek out contests with cash prizes, you aren’t being “sell-out.” You are being a professional. That prize money serves a dual purpose:

  1. It keeps you fed: You need electricity, internet, and groceries to keep the creative engine running.
  2. It buys you time: If you can win a prize that covers a month’s worth of expenses, that is one month you don’t have to spend at a soul-sucking day job. It’s one month where you can focus entirely on that novel—the one that lives in your head and needs your undivided attention to finally make it onto the page.

The “Later” Philosophy

Don’t get me wrong—prestige has its place. But that place is later.

Once you have established your footing, once you have mastered your craft, and once you have a body of work that has been funded by the very industry you are trying to enter, then you can afford the luxury of chasing accolades.

But right now? Right now, you are building your foundation. You are cultivating the experiences, the discipline, and the financial stability required to produce your best work. You cannot reach the peak of the mountain if you are too malnourished to climb the first few hundred feet.

How to Strategise Your Submissions

Next time you find yourself browsing Submittable or a contest directory, try applying these three rules:

  • The Bottom Line: Does this contest offer a cash prize that would meaningfully impact my life or support my writing time? If the answer is no, skip it.
  • The Time-to-Value Ratio: If the entry fee is high and the prize is obscure prestige, save your money. Invest that entry fee into a book on craft or a subscription to a platform that actually helps your writing process.
  • The Novel Priority: Is this contest helping you build toward your larger goal (your novel), or is it a distraction? If it doesn’t align with your long-term creative vision, don’t let it siphon your energy.

Final Thoughts

Your voice is valuable, and your time is a finite resource. Treat your writing like the profession it is. Stop waiting for the world to notice you through a gold-leafed certificate and start focusing on the work that sustains your life.

Feed yourself first. The masterpiece will come, but it will come when you are strong enough to carry it to the finish line.

…

What I learned about writing – Could you write a fantasy story to avoid getting too serious

For years, people used to tell me I was living in my own fantasy land.

What amazed me was that they could see into my mind that I wanted to be a knight in shining armour, a superhero, a billionaire who wanted for nothing, and a spy who beat the bad guys and won over the girl.

Of course, none of this could ever happen in reality, only in my imagination.

With the arrival of three grandchildren and being asked to take up child-minding, came the time to read them stories before they went to bed.

I used to think that the violence that was within those stories would keep any sane person up all night, but I was quick to realise that any sort of cartoon or fantasy story always carried an indecent level of violence.

Perhaps from a young age, we are supposed to be taught that good triumphs over evil and the bad guys always come off second best.

However….

After reading a lot of fairy tales to the girls, I thought to myself I could do better and decided to write my own.

A snotty, egotistical princess is about to be married off to the prince in the kingdom next door, and he isn’t very nice.  The thing is, no one likes her, and everyone is glad she’s going away to be with her prince.

She’s been betrothed since they were children, and that notion she could marry for love was dashed many years before.

But…

There’s a legend that comes once in a millennium called ‘the conflagration’, where the firstborn eldest daughter from one of the kingdoms in the realm is selected to become ‘the saviour’, who has to go on a quest to find the twelve pieces of the tablet needed to restore peace and order.

It just happens that after the invasion of her kingdom by another, that of her prince, soon to be husband, the conflagration begins. Her ‘knight in shining armour’ comes to collect her, only it is not marriage he has in mind.

Her father’s trusted Master-at-Arms is sent to save her from the prince and take her on the quest, sent to him in his dreams. The problem is, the king believes the Gods have made a mistake, but trusts his personal knight to guide her in her role.

Of course, the knight doesn’t believe she will get past the first task. For that reason, he doesn’t tell her the real reason why they are heading into the Kingdom of Magic. Not until it’s time to find the first artefact.

There are twelve to find, and by the time she locates the last piece of the puzzle, she transforms from the whiny, self-indulgent brat into a fearless leader.

Everything a saviour needed to be.

By the time the first draft was finished, it was 1,100 pages of the story called The Enchanted Horse.

Well, Mr Disney, I’ve just created your next Disney Princess, The Princess Marigold!

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 134

Day 134 – Getting there is important too

…

The Art of the Detour: Why the Journey Really Is the Destination

We are obsessed with “arriving.”

In our modern, high-speed lives, we treat travel like a logistical problem to be solved. We optimise for the shortest flight, the fastest highway route, and the most direct train line. We view the time spent in transit as a tax—a boring, uncomfortable middle-ground that we must pay in order to unlock the reward of our destination.

But what if we’ve got it backward? What if the destination is merely the period at the end of a long sentence’s worth of experience?

There is a profound, often overlooked truth in the adage: The journey is the destination. When we prioritise the “getting there,” travel shifts from a task into an art form. Here is why the road, the tracks, and the sky are often more important than the hotel lobby at the finish line.

The Myth of Through-Hiking Life

When we focus solely on the arrival, we live in a state of suspended animation. We are waiting for the vacation to start, waiting for the weekend to hit, waiting for the “real” life to begin.

When you prioritise the journey, however, you reclaim your time. You stop looking at your watch and start looking out the window. Whether it’s a winding coastal road in Italy or a cross-country Amtrak adventure, the journey forces a state of “positive boredom.” It clears the clutter of our digital lives, stripping away the emails and the notifications, leaving us with nothing but the rhythm of the movement and our own thoughts.

Serendipity Lives in the In-Between

The most memorable moments of travel rarely happen at the planned tourist attractions. They happen in the “in-between.”

Think about it: have you ever had a life-changing conversation with a stranger on a plane? Stumbled upon a roadside diner that serves the best pie you’ve ever tasted? Found a quiet, nameless overlook while your GPS recalculated a missed turn?

These moments are the dividends of a slow journey. When you take the long way, you invite the universe to surprise you. The “in-between” is where serendipity lives. A direct flight to Paris gets you to a croissant faster, but a slow train ride across the countryside introduces you to the landscape, the architecture, and the people that make Paris what it is.

The Psychology of Transition

There is a psychological necessity to the process. If you want to change your mindset, you need a buffer zone.

Travelling acts as a psychological decompression chamber. The time spent sitting in a car, train, or boat allows your brain to shift gears. You are physically detaching from the stresses of your home life and mentally preparing for the expansion of travel. If you teleported instantly to your destination, you’d likely arrive with your “home” brain still plugged in. The journey forces a transition, ensuring that by the time you arrive, you are actually ready to receive the experience.

How to Shift Your Focus

If you’ve spent your life rushing, how do you learn to savour the transit?

  • Ditch the “Most Efficient” Option: Next time you’re booking a trip, ask yourself, “Which way would be the most interesting?” instead of “Which way is the cheapest/fastest?”
  • Embrace Surface Travel: Whenever possible, choose trains over planes, or a scenic highway over an interstate. The lower your speed, the more world you get to see.
  • Build in “Gap Days”: Schedule a day of transit that has no deadline. If you get into a town at 2:00 PM, let that be the goal. If you see a beautiful village at 10:00 AM, stop for a few hours.
  • Curate Your Transit: Treat the journey as an activity. Bring the book you’ve been dying to read, the playlist you’ve been saving, or a journal to document the passing landscapes.

The Final Stop

The destination will always be there. The Eiffel Tower isn’t going anywhere; the beach will still be sand when you arrive. But the experience of the trip—the changing quality of light on the horizon, the shifting accents of the people at the rest stop, the feeling of crossing a border or a time zone—that is a fleeting, ephemeral moment that happens once.

Don’t just endure the trip. Experience it. Because when you look back on your life, you won’t remember the check-in time at your hotel. You’ll remember the way the sun hit the road, the songs you sang with the windows down, and the winding, dusty, beautiful path that led you exactly where you needed to be.

…

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 134

Day 134 – Getting there is important too

…

The Art of the Detour: Why the Journey Really Is the Destination

We are obsessed with “arriving.”

In our modern, high-speed lives, we treat travel like a logistical problem to be solved. We optimise for the shortest flight, the fastest highway route, and the most direct train line. We view the time spent in transit as a tax—a boring, uncomfortable middle-ground that we must pay in order to unlock the reward of our destination.

But what if we’ve got it backward? What if the destination is merely the period at the end of a long sentence’s worth of experience?

There is a profound, often overlooked truth in the adage: The journey is the destination. When we prioritise the “getting there,” travel shifts from a task into an art form. Here is why the road, the tracks, and the sky are often more important than the hotel lobby at the finish line.

The Myth of Through-Hiking Life

When we focus solely on the arrival, we live in a state of suspended animation. We are waiting for the vacation to start, waiting for the weekend to hit, waiting for the “real” life to begin.

When you prioritise the journey, however, you reclaim your time. You stop looking at your watch and start looking out the window. Whether it’s a winding coastal road in Italy or a cross-country Amtrak adventure, the journey forces a state of “positive boredom.” It clears the clutter of our digital lives, stripping away the emails and the notifications, leaving us with nothing but the rhythm of the movement and our own thoughts.

Serendipity Lives in the In-Between

The most memorable moments of travel rarely happen at the planned tourist attractions. They happen in the “in-between.”

Think about it: have you ever had a life-changing conversation with a stranger on a plane? Stumbled upon a roadside diner that serves the best pie you’ve ever tasted? Found a quiet, nameless overlook while your GPS recalculated a missed turn?

These moments are the dividends of a slow journey. When you take the long way, you invite the universe to surprise you. The “in-between” is where serendipity lives. A direct flight to Paris gets you to a croissant faster, but a slow train ride across the countryside introduces you to the landscape, the architecture, and the people that make Paris what it is.

The Psychology of Transition

There is a psychological necessity to the process. If you want to change your mindset, you need a buffer zone.

Travelling acts as a psychological decompression chamber. The time spent sitting in a car, train, or boat allows your brain to shift gears. You are physically detaching from the stresses of your home life and mentally preparing for the expansion of travel. If you teleported instantly to your destination, you’d likely arrive with your “home” brain still plugged in. The journey forces a transition, ensuring that by the time you arrive, you are actually ready to receive the experience.

How to Shift Your Focus

If you’ve spent your life rushing, how do you learn to savour the transit?

  • Ditch the “Most Efficient” Option: Next time you’re booking a trip, ask yourself, “Which way would be the most interesting?” instead of “Which way is the cheapest/fastest?”
  • Embrace Surface Travel: Whenever possible, choose trains over planes, or a scenic highway over an interstate. The lower your speed, the more world you get to see.
  • Build in “Gap Days”: Schedule a day of transit that has no deadline. If you get into a town at 2:00 PM, let that be the goal. If you see a beautiful village at 10:00 AM, stop for a few hours.
  • Curate Your Transit: Treat the journey as an activity. Bring the book you’ve been dying to read, the playlist you’ve been saving, or a journal to document the passing landscapes.

The Final Stop

The destination will always be there. The Eiffel Tower isn’t going anywhere; the beach will still be sand when you arrive. But the experience of the trip—the changing quality of light on the horizon, the shifting accents of the people at the rest stop, the feeling of crossing a border or a time zone—that is a fleeting, ephemeral moment that happens once.

Don’t just endure the trip. Experience it. Because when you look back on your life, you won’t remember the check-in time at your hotel. You’ll remember the way the sun hit the road, the songs you sang with the windows down, and the winding, dusty, beautiful path that led you exactly where you needed to be.

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