I used to volunteer for an organization that sent thousands of people around the world a year, most of whom kept blogs about their travel experiences. Working with these fledgling writers, I found out most people had no clue how to write about travel.
Photo by Trey Ratcliff (Creative Commons)
How Do You Become a Travel Writer?
Who hasn't dreamt about becoming a travel writer. Get paid for having fun? Sounds like a dream job, right? However, first you have to learn how to write a great travel article, which is no easy feat.
As I live in Paris and work on my collaborative memoir, Goodbye Paris, I am reading lots of books and articles about travel, including Mark Twain's Innocents Abroad, Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, and David Lebovitz's great blog, and I'm learning from these masters as I refine my travel writing technique.
Here are the five steps I use to write about my travels.
1. Have an Adventure
No one wants to read how about how you checked Facebook from your hotel room all day. If you want to become a travel writer, you have to have stories to tell.
One great way to find adventures worth writing about is to ask your friends and family what sites they would want to see, food they would want to try, and experiences they would want to have. Once you arrive, ask the same questions to locals and expats. By inviting other people into your planning process, you help get a feel for what will interest people in your writing.
As you go on your adventure, make sure to bring your notebook, and when you encounter other people on your journey, write down their names and where they're from. These little details make your story more memorable.
2. Journal
Before you start writing your actual articles, it's important capture as much of your experience as you can in a journal. Every day in Paris, I hole up in a café and write as much about my experiences as I remember. This isn't usually great writing. The point isn't to write something publishable, but to capture your experience for later.
As you journal, make a special effort to remember the things people say, and other specific details like the color of the sky and the smell of the food. Dialogue always makes for a much better story, but it's the easiest to forget.
3. Choose One Moment
As important as capturing all of your memories in your journal is, most of them won't make very good stories. Instead, read through your journal, and then choose just one moment to build your article around.
For example, I recently wrote about our terrible eighteen hour travel day to Paris. When I first journaled about the experience, I wrote nearly 2,500 words, far too long for an article. And so I decided to focus on just one piece of the trip, how we almost missed our flight, a moment that had enough excitement and drama to carry the whole article.
What's nice about this is that your journals while your journals don't directly become published articles, they're instead turned into a fertile field of stories. I could write five or six articles from one day's worth of journals.
4. Expand the Story
Next, take your single moment and expand it, illustrating the story with the following:
- Dialogue
- Description and Setting
- Research (like the name of the street you were on and historic and contextual information)
- Small details (such as what people were wearing)
- Your own emotions
This is where your article goes from being just a sketch and turns into a real story.
Here, I also try to insert my own voice into the story, adding tone, humor, and dramatic shifts. Do you want this to be a funny story about your travel misadventures or do you want this to be a serious, reflective look at culture and identity? Whichever you choose, try to add it to your story.
5. Revise With Your Subjects in Mind
One of the tricky parts of writing about your travels is that you're writing about real people. In many ways fiction is easier because you don't have to worry about offending other people. However, when writing about real people you have to consider their feelings.
If you're able, it's always a good idea to send your story, or at the very least, the quotes, to your subjects for permission. If you can't contact the people in your stories, read and revise with them in mind. How would you feel if this was printed about you? You may also want to change the names of your subjects to protect their identity.
Become a Travel Writer Today
You don't have to leave your hometown to be a travel writer. You can go on adventures and write about them no matter where you live, even if it's not frequented by tourists.
Or perhaps you've been somewhere in the past but haven't written about it yet. Why not start today? By reliving your experiences, you could discover a new vein of creativity.
And remember, as long as you choose a moment and then bring it to life for us, you'll do just fine.
Have you ever wanted to become a travel writer?
PRACTICE
Write about an adventure you had while traveling. If you somehow haven't had an adventure while traveling, then go have one now no matter where you live and then write about it!
Write for fifteen minutes, following the steps above. When your time is up, post your practice in the comments section. And if you post, please be sure to leave feedback on a few posts by your fellow writers.
Have fun!
“Have you ever wanted to become a travel writer?”
I love travel writing, but it has always been very much a side gig for me.
I write about my travels, but I don’t travel specifically to write about it.
I think the idea is to journal about everything with an eye to future stories. The setting is usually noteworthy and different from our everyday scenery. Who knows when it may be the foundation of your next story?
Some years ago, my husband and I travelled through a small town in Italy near the Alps. We had not prepared ourselves with even a passing knowledge of the language. Young people in jovial spirits walked beside us, many with colorful scarves around their necks for warmth. One girl snacked on olives from a glass jar while another sipped wine from a bottle as we would sip Coca Cola. We ambled through a cobbled street lined with shops and searched for gift ideas to bring back to our sons. Entering a small shop which offered sports apparel, the language barrier hit us squarely. Using gestures and minimal English, I tried to communicate our wishes. The savvy shop keeper immediately lead us outside and grabbed several young boys, all the while expounding to them in Italian our predicament. With raised eyebrows she questioned if this child was similar in size to our sons. Returning to her shop, the good-natured boys served as mannequins for several soccer shirts until we made our selection. We bought two shirts as the boys smiled, waved and returned to the street. To this day, our now 40-year old son remembers the shirt emblazoned with the name of an English soccer team for which he has become an ardent fan.
I like the way you have weaved in cultural differences other than language. For example ‘ eating olives from a glass jar’ and ‘sipping wine from a bottle’ while you drank Coca Cola.
I have many hilarious memories where efforts have been made to overcome language barriers…I can recall flapping my arms like a chicken, squawking and squatting in one shop. I wanted to buy some eggs …ha ha.
Perhaps consider some line breaks or paragraphing in the first part of this piece.
Other than that this is a very pleasant read. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks for the suggestion. Paragraphing always makes reading easier.
Back in 95 our daughter wanted to go to a week-long workshop for teachers — the event being held in Mississippi — and she didn’t want to drive all that way alone so I accompanied her and did most of the driving. We were living in Quebec at this time, so had two long days on the road, entering the US at Detroit and heading south on Interstates.
The second day found us somewhere in KY on a nice four-lane highway and I was behind the wheel when we came up behind a line of about six cars, every one of them in the right lane, doing almost 50 MPH.
I found this curious, as the speed limit was 55 MPH and the left lane was completely empty. I craned my neck and peered ahead as best I could, expecting to see some extra-wide vehicle causing this slower traffic. Nada. Just a line of ordinary-looking cars.
Now I was really curious. Had the speed limit changed and I hadn’t noticed the sign? Last thing on earth I wanted to do was get nailed for speeding in the States. I’d read some pretty dire accounts… Right then we passed a sign: 55 MPH. So why is everyone doing under 50?
As the road went round a curve I got a better look at the lead car. A police cruiser. Aha! He was cruising along at a lower speed and the drivers behind were all meekly following, no one daring to challenge his authority. I joined the line and took it easy on the gas for another mile.
Would it surprise you if I mentioned here that I can be a rebel at times? As I passed another 55 MPH sign, I thought, This is silly. Am I going to poke along at 50MPH for an hour in deference to the whims of those officers? Will they arrest me if I don’t? Have they got any reason to stop me for driving at the speed limit?
Nope. I pulled into the left lane, sped up to 55 mph, and slowly overtook the police car. If I was indeed committing some social ‘faux pas’, I trusted my Quebec license plate would tell him I didn’t know any better.
They say about sheep that when one sticks his head through the fence, the others will surely follow. People are much the same. When I was some distance ahead of the cruiser (one eye glued to the speedometer the whole way!) I saw in my rear-view mirror that others had pulled out and were also passing the cruiser. I suppose they’d been anxious to see if I’d get into trouble and when I didn’t, they decided they could get away with it, too.
Now I can say I led a mini-coup – a social rebellion of sorts – in a foreign land. I can just imagine those policemen sitting at the doughnut shop later and chuckling about it, just as I am now.
What would you have done?
Oh you rebel!
A nice account of how travel can encourage us to be a little more adventurous. 🙂
Thick banks of fog gurgled in carrying rain and storms from the wild west coast. The forecast was dismal and the tour leaders were huddled in a corner waiting for a radio call from the base reconnaissance team.
We sat on a hard wooden bench worn smooth from wear,decked out in mountain jackets, navy blue waterproof pants and chunky, scuffed hiking boots.
“I hope we can go,” Wendy said nervously twitching with the toggles on her zip. “Otherwise we have to press on further south.”
“Oh well if it’s meant to be it’s meant to be.” I smiled back but inside I was rearing to go.
Two of the young adventure leaders left the huddle in the corner and came over to the bench.
“We have a choice. The conditions aren’t good but acceptable. The track up is slippery and there is more cloud expected. If you have any problems or doubts about your ability to descend quickly if necessary we recommend you reconsider the ascent today and rebook for tomorrow.”
Wendy looked at me her. Doubt rubbed a bitter twist into her lower lip.
“Let’s do it.” I said, “We’re here now.”
We both knew it was a gamble. We were by far the oldest of the ten people sitting nervously on the bench and over the years between us we’d had a broken ankle, knee reconstruction and busted Achilles. Old injuries for sure, but none had healed without ongoing consequence.
We both jumped up. Yes ‘jumped’ up; and chimed “We’re in.”
The creaky old red bus wound it’s way up through the gulley of the Fox River. Steep scree slopes sheared up toward the sky. Serious slate clouds rumbled and flicked their ominous steely skirts across the peaks beyond.
We left the bus half way up the gulley and proceeded by foot around the river bend, up a steep grey gravelly track and across a mini rapid. After pausing to strap our cramp-ons around the base of our boots and adjust our walking poles we began a descent down deep icey gravel steps before ascending the slippery steps cut into ice and snow.
The foreboding Fox Glacier gleamed in slippery shining glory, a sleek and ancient giant rippling it’s frozen body away into the peaks and banks of threatening cloud.
Wind whipped brisk air off the face of the blue veined giant, slicing across our cheeks and biting our every breath…breath-taking.
Overcome with our smallness in this vast and wild landscape Wendy grabbed my hand and pulled it to her chest.
“Feel my heart,” she said as it thudded against the thermal lining of her mountain jacket.
“I’m so glad we’re doing this,” she added, smiling like a child.
“Me too!” were the only words that I could squeeze out.
This is a vivid description which takes the reader along to a location which calls to me personally. The words “slippery” and “steep” were used a number of times in close paragraphs; perhaps you could substitute other descriptive words? The “blue veined giant” and its surrounding images makes me want to read more of this story!
Hi Ruth, thanks for reading and responding.
Yes, I definitely need to edit the repeating words.
It’s a rough draft…but the opportunity for the practice has reminded me of many other wonderful adventures to return to (re-explore), using the prompts from the above practice. 🙂
Thanks again.
Hi Dawn, I really liked how you started your piece with a choice. Framing your adventure as a choice to go on despite the guide’s warning about adverse conditions and your own awareness of being the oldest in the group creates conflict and made me want to read on. Also, I liked the phrase ‘Doubt rubbed a bitter twist into her lower lip’ – very original personification that caught my eye!
Thanks Stella.
A few typos and some word repetition need to be edited but in all it’s ok.
I really enjoy once I get into the flow of writing when little turns of phrase ( I.e interesting personifications etc) pop up of their own accord.
I will return to this little adventure at a later date and offer it some more writing time. Your words are encouraging…much appreciated.
Dawn 🙂
You’re welcome, it was my pleasure. If and when you write more about your adventure, I’d very much like to read it! Your piece was a very promising start.
Nice advice. I’ll definitely try it out.
To the TWP team:
Your posts really help me alot and they’ve given me hope that maybe someday I can be a published author. I’m still in high school so I know it’ll take a while. Plus a whole lot of effort and work but I’m willing to put in all the time needed and more. Although I have other career goals, giving up writing is not an option. And your posts give me courage to keep writing. 🙂 Thank you for everything.
I swiped my hand over my forehead hoping to clear the precipitation starting to gather there. It was a hot day and no sign of any wind.
I watched Piper gave a once-around look before catching the kicker’s eyes. “Jake, are you ready?”
Jake nodded and did a few boxer jumps. “Yea, give me a bouncy one, alright?”
Piper nodded.
I crouched, my muscles tensed and my eyes triggered on the kick ball.
Ka-bunk! He kicked the ball and it rose way above the tree line. My heart thumped as it started to dip!
“Catch it!!” I yelled. Holding out my position as blood surged through me, inducing me to run for it. to catch it. You can’t do everything, I told myself. You have to trust your friends!
Alex humped as she caught the ball between her arms.
“YES!!” I jumped with my fist in the air. “Way to go, Alex!! WOHOO!!”
(The names have been altered. And I know this isn’t exactly an adventure but I think it’s close enough.)
This is my 15 minute assignment
China
stop-over
I squeezed myself into the economy seat of China Airways with relief. After being
held up in Mongolia, Ulaanbaatar for three days because of snow I was glad to be travelling back to Dhaka Bangladesh via Beijing. This was the last leg of the journey and I planned to sleep for the 7 hours of the trip. The minute the ‘fasten seat belt’ sign went off I reclined my seat and slept.
I woke, suddenly, something was wrong. It was very quiet. I lifted my head and saw that the plane was on the ground, peering over the top of the seat in front I also saw that there
were no passengers on the plane. I was completely alone. I hastily stood up, instinctively grabbed my small rucksack and made my way to the front of the plane.
‘Hello’ I called, and again Hello is anyone
there?
There was no answer.
I walked through the small galley and then the first class cabins. There was nobody to be seen. I called again. I saw then that the door of the plane was open. The metal stairs were in place and at the foot of the stair were the crew. They looked up at me with bland indifference. A small bus drove up and the crew climbed aboard and drove off.
Now I was completely on my own standing on a tarmac runway without a clue as to where I was. A transit bus suddenly came in sight and was obviously coming towards me. It stopped and the doors opened. I stepped in, the doors closed and we headed towards what I thought must be the terminal building.
The bus stopped outside the entrance and the automatic doors opened when I stepped towards them. I entered into the terminal and was faced with a most amazing sight. The terminal was filled with laughing noisy people. Paper streamers filled the air and passengers were dressed in paper hats clutching large colourful balloons. Someone came up to me smiling and gave me a big red balloon on a stick.
A small man came towards me and beckoned
for me to follow him. We threaded our way through the crowds of partying
passengers through some automatic doors. We then passed down some gloomy
corridors, what looked like an empty waiting area and finally through the last
set of doors we came to an exit sign where my fellow passengers were waiting to
board the bus to take them back to the plane. They looked at me in surprise admiring my balloon. In a short while I was back in my seat on the plane settling down once more for a few hours sleep before my arrival in Dhaka.
Great tips on how to start writing travel articles, I can definitely see them providing value!
You gave me a new toolbox to use for observing and taking notes when traveling – thank you so much 🙂