If you enjoy traveling—in particular if you love a good guidebook—you may already be aware that Google purchased Frommer’s last summer. Two months ago they announced there would be no more print editions. I understand all the reasons why (check those links) but as you know, I sit in front of a computer all day. When I’m done with work, I don’t want to spend more time with the computer—I really like curling up on the couch with a pile of guidebooks when I’m planning a trip.
I also love travel writing. And I’d intended to rerun—here, now—a version of my post “Travelogues for Fun and Profit” to let you know I’m taking a short vacation. (As before, the blog will continue—I’ve got some good guest posts lined up, and I’ll check in from time to time.)
Instead, I offer this, from my other blog. It’s a travelogue (mostly), if you’re interested in that sort of thing. It starts like this …
On the Road Again
The other day I set out to run errands midmorning and my car wouldn’t start. As is my wont, I called my brother, who dutifully set aside his morning plans and drove twenty minutes in to town with his portable, plug-in battery charger/diagnostician, to prevent the meltdown his sister would surely have if she were stranded for an hour or two in her comfortable home.
We ended up at Auto Zone watching a nice young man install a new battery. My brother, a farmer, was telling me a funny (in hindsight) story about saving seeds from a batch of habañeros he’d grown; his farmer’s hands are immune to the oil but he’d wiped the sweat from his face and gotten a rude, burning surprise.
The Auto Zone man engaged in a lively conversation with us about how best to handle peppers and Scoville units and what to do about it when you forget you have pepper juice on you (hint: milk, not water). He talked about police-grade pepper spray, made from the hottest peppers. He was quite knowledgeable. Finally I said, “Do you grow peppers? Are you a cook? A chili competitor?”
No, he’d watched a show on the Discovery Channel. “You can learn a lot of interesting things on television,” he said.
Indeed, you can.
But I like to do my own discovery. (And you know how I feel about television.) Although I rarely rearrange my furniture, I am adventurous when it comes to new travel experiences. I think both are by-products of growing up in a military family. My father was an air force pilot.
We lived in Stephenville, Newfoundland, in Canada, for three years when I was a young child. I still have very vivid memories of the experience. The culture was so different, so … not-American. I loved the folk songs I heard, and made my parents buy me a record of them, which I still have. I can still sing some of the songs, even.
I’se the b’y who builds th’ boat
and I’se the b’y who sails ’er,
I’se the b’y who catches the fish
and brings ’em ’ome to Liza …
I think this may have been the beginning of my fascination with the foreign.
I always thought I would travel more. My parents made sure we saw every national park and roadside attraction, of course. We had a family vacation in Hawaii in the 1960s, which was quite an eye-opener. I grew up, got married, didn’t make much money, got caught up in, you know, just staying alive. Sure, there was the odd trip or two into Mexico. And my husband and I spent every opportunity in Yosemite National Park, since we were just an hour’s drive away.
But I wanted to go to Greece. I wanted to go to England. Italy. Vienna, as the song said, was awaiting me.
I was a single mother before I made it across the Atlantic with my sixteen-year-old son. Our British hosts gave me a blank book upon our arrival. “Write everything down,” they said. “Otherwise you’ll forget the details.”
And God, as you know, is in the details.
I wrote a travelogue about that trip and e-mailed it, a chapter at a time, to friends who wanted to hear about it. Upon the announcement of subsequent trips, I was asked, “You’re going to do another travelogue, aren’t you?”
Well, yes, I am. :)
I’m getting ready for another trip now. I’ll tell you all about it.
* * *
Thanks for sharing this space with me. As noted, I’ll be on the road for a couple weeks but we’ll still be here talking about books and authors, writing and editing, words and language, and the publishing industry.
Tweet: There will be no more print editions of Frommer’s. Travelers sigh. Or not.
Tweet: I like curling up on the couch with a pile of guidebooks when I’m planning a trip.
Advice to the Newbie
I’m (ahem) away from my office this graduation week, which is a great opportunity to share this guest post from author Amy Parker.*
Advice to the Newbie
May is the season of graduates, the turning over of new leaves, the quest for new discoveries. As I remember my same transition from college into the publishing world, I can think of a few things I did right, and several things I’d love to go back and tell myself. So let me save you a little trouble and offer some advice to make the transition successfully.
Break the mold. If you were born between 1980 and 2001, you’re already expected to approach new opportunities with a sense of entitlement. Instead, break that mold by applying a little biblical wisdom: “Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity” (1 Timothy 4:12 NIV).
Lose the ’tude. Maybe you had the highest GPA in the class. Maybe you needed help carrying all of your pins and ropes and stoles across the stage. Maybe you took all of the Honors English courses in Oxford. But for now (actually, for forever), lose the attitude. It gets you nowhere. It robs you of the opportunity to learn. And honestly, it makes you look ridiculous. You’re the newbie now: listen with two ears; speak with one mouth.
Treasure advice from veterans. They may not move as fast as you. They may have wrinkles and gray hair, but there are libraries of experience behind those crows’ feet. When given the opportunity to learn at the feet of a veteran, keep a notebook handy, follow her instructions, and treasure the decades of experience and the wealth of knowledge she is taking the time to share with you.
Keep your morals buttoned. As the ambitious newbie, you’ll be tempted—more than once—to ‘take one for the team’ or ‘help out’ a higher up or to ‘do it the way we’ve always done.’ Regardless, if the morals or logic seem sketchy, don’t be afraid to question it or just back out. It’s one thing to pay your dues, but quite another to risk your reputation. You know the difference.
Keep your options open. Writing healthcare education courses wasn’t my dream job, but it was my first out of college, so I jumped at the chance. While I was there, I made great friends, got free Starbucks, and had an über-cool downtown office with frequent field trips to the library and the Frist Center for the Arts. It also paid my salary until my dream job came calling a short nine months later.
Never underestimate your dreams. Being a children’s book editor was my dream job—or so I thought. It turns out that being an editor was only a stepping-stone to what I was really created to do: write. But had I known that from the beginning and skipped straight to writing, I would have also skipped all of the vital connections, perspective, and experience I gained along the way.
Follow your heart. If there were only one piece of advice I could give you, this one would be it. It may seem sappy and cliché, but it’s truly the only way to a fulfilled life. Continually evaluate your life, your job, your career. Is it going the way you want it to go? Is it making a difference? Are you making something other than money? If not, do some soul searching, and take one immediate step to ensure that you’re walking the path of your heart.
Congratulations. Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Make the most of it.
* Amy Parker has written more than twenty books for children, teens, and adults, including the best-selling A Night Night Prayer, Thank You, God, for Mommy, and Thank You, God, for Daddy. She has collaborated with authors ranging from New York Times best sellers to her very own son.
Tweet: Some advice for graduates: how to be the newbie.
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Disclosure of Material Connection: I have not received any compensation for writing this post. I have no material connection to the brands, products, or services that I have mentioned. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”