Armchair Travellers

I am often asked how I write about places I've never seen. How do I know in which direction the river flows, if the cobblestones are russet red, and is the baobab 30 feet tall?

The answer is; I don't know all those things for sure.

Some of the places I write about are real, and those who live in the areas will recognize them instantly, but often, scenes come out of research I do as preparation, visual help to set the scene, and the rest straight out of my imagination.

People call this the armchair traveller.

Many of us are bound by various circumstances; a nine to five job, a full-time mom with no time to discover a Miami neighbourhood, or a night nurse who needs to sleep during the day. So although you hear it constantly that you should write what you know, another answer is this, don't be scared, make things up, but equally, don't take such liberties that people think your modern-day romance is set in another Miami on a different planet.

To write first-hand is clever enough, but to write out of what your mind processed and made believable, is just as smart. For the woman on location may be momentarily concerned with her skin and how it fares in the blazing sun, if the taxi driver will over-charge yet again, or if the calamari is about to revolt against her delicate stomach.

The armchair traveller on the other hand, has become an adequate student of information, sifting through paragraphs, descriptions, and essays on decor and architecture, navigating thousands of pictures and sometimes even maps and jungles.

In addition, if armchair travellers were not accurate substitutes, we would reject all historical novels off-hand.

So, for those who are concerned about the gnashing teeth of a critical public, do what I do, rename villages, towns, and cities. No one will be any the wiser whether Bellamar, Bellastown, or Bellasdorp are real.