Microwaving the Duck
Let me say this, for the eleventh time: I will never do this to myself again.
Earlier today, I sent off the fourth edition of Adventure Guide to the Alaska Highway. When Lynn and I did the first edition of this--our first book--back in, what, '91, I think, the manuscript came out to 220 pages, and we were stretching to get that much in. This time, I sent off 15 files, adding up to 636 pages.
I make more money for single magazine articles at this point in my career.
I don't know what draws me back to guidebooks, when, each time, I am quite sure this is the last time. Once or twice, it's been an offer too good to refuse: the fourth edition of the Inside Passage book came about simply because the very fine folks at Alaska Vistas invited me to join them on the Stikine River again. I'd done the river with them in '98, on the second edition (which I'd sworn would be the last), and it was one of the high points of my travel life. And so a third edition was born, to give me a reason to go up to Alaska for a summer--which stretched out to nearly six months--and another chance to float the Stikine. We'd pull the raft onto river beaches each night that were covered in moose tracks, and for the second time, on this moose-infested river, I did not see a single one of the things.
But in my tent, listening to avalanches break down the mountains of the Stikine Icefield, I was perfectly happy. It was worth writing another book for.
This one, the fourth time around for the Alaska Highway, was to pay for a trip to Europe. I had to go to Ireland, and while there, figured I might as well look around a few other places I hadn't been. I'm happiest traveling without assignments, simply showing up and wandering around and seeing what the story is, but that's an expensive way to go about life.
Flew to London, Prague, took the train to Budapest, finished off in Venice.
636 pages later, I'm done paying for that trip.
And yeah, it was worth it. Late night walking down by the estuary in Ireland, what I learned on the Charles Bridge in Prague, Budapest's main museum, so rich in masterpieces the Rembrandts were almost hidden, the sound of high heels very late at night in Venice.
But I'm never doing this to myself again.
Earlier today, I sent off the fourth edition of Adventure Guide to the Alaska Highway. When Lynn and I did the first edition of this--our first book--back in, what, '91, I think, the manuscript came out to 220 pages, and we were stretching to get that much in. This time, I sent off 15 files, adding up to 636 pages.
I make more money for single magazine articles at this point in my career.
I don't know what draws me back to guidebooks, when, each time, I am quite sure this is the last time. Once or twice, it's been an offer too good to refuse: the fourth edition of the Inside Passage book came about simply because the very fine folks at Alaska Vistas invited me to join them on the Stikine River again. I'd done the river with them in '98, on the second edition (which I'd sworn would be the last), and it was one of the high points of my travel life. And so a third edition was born, to give me a reason to go up to Alaska for a summer--which stretched out to nearly six months--and another chance to float the Stikine. We'd pull the raft onto river beaches each night that were covered in moose tracks, and for the second time, on this moose-infested river, I did not see a single one of the things.
But in my tent, listening to avalanches break down the mountains of the Stikine Icefield, I was perfectly happy. It was worth writing another book for.
This one, the fourth time around for the Alaska Highway, was to pay for a trip to Europe. I had to go to Ireland, and while there, figured I might as well look around a few other places I hadn't been. I'm happiest traveling without assignments, simply showing up and wandering around and seeing what the story is, but that's an expensive way to go about life.
Flew to London, Prague, took the train to Budapest, finished off in Venice.
636 pages later, I'm done paying for that trip.
And yeah, it was worth it. Late night walking down by the estuary in Ireland, what I learned on the Charles Bridge in Prague, Budapest's main museum, so rich in masterpieces the Rembrandts were almost hidden, the sound of high heels very late at night in Venice.
But I'm never doing this to myself again.
posted by e. Readicker-Henderson at 11:19 PM
1 Comments:
Yuppers, I'm still paying for that trip too.
But totally worth it.
How about the Dalmation Coast, Greece and Egypt next time?
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