If you picture author travel as a blur of first-class upgrades, luxury hotels, and readings with standing ovations, you’re not alone. But also? You’re not entirely right. Unless you’re an A-list name with a PR team and a publisher footing the bill, most writers are navigating the road in a very different way.
That airport coffee? You bought it yourself. That hotel stay? You booked it (and probably used points). That bookstore event? You emailed to coordinate. Travel. Lodging. Meals. Logistics. All on your plate and often balanced alongside deadlines and day jobs.
Which is why I rarely travel just for writing. Like most midlist authors, I piggyback events onto other trips, family visits, speaking gigs, vacations, conferences. It’s strategic multitasking. Sustainable(ish). And honestly? Still really special. The road can be tiring, unpredictable, and full of surprises, but it’s also where unexpected connections, inspiration, and story seeds take root.
Because behind the glamour, there’s something undeniably real and wonderful about being a writer on the road.
Let’s Bust the Book Tour Myth
Let’s just say it: book tours are not the norm anymore. For most authors, especially those outside the celebrity circuit, publishers don’t fund multi-city promo tours. If you want to show up somewhere to promote your book, you plan it. You pay for it. You make it happen.
That means:
- Booking and paying for your own flights and hotels
- Coordinating with bookstores, libraries, and event hosts
- Managing your schedule and communication (often months in advance)
- Budgeting carefully to make it all doable
And if you’re like me? You fold that author appearance into a trip you were already taking. A long weekend visiting family. A retreat. A speaking engagement. A conference like Bouchercon. Sometimes that means hopping from a speaking panel to a family dinner, or squeezing in a bookstore visit on the way to the airport. It’s a constant juggle of calendars, luggage, and priorities, but it keeps the dream moving forward. Every event becomes an opportunity to connect with readers, librarians, and book shop owners, share your work, and refill the creative tank, without burning yourself out or your bank account.
How I Travel as a Working Writer
I’ve learned that if I want to write on the road, I have to plan for it. Not force it, but make room for it.
Travel Habits That Keep Me Grounded
When I pack, I prioritize the basics:
- Cliff bars, apples, and my Yeti water bottle
- A few comforting rituals: essential oil diffuser, cozy socks, herbal tea
- Sharpies, post-its, pens, and business cards (because yes, I will absolutely forget them otherwise)
- Layers, because airplane and bookstore AC has no mercy
Having small comforts within reach makes the constant flux of travel feel more familiar, more rooted. When you’re jumping between time zones, rental cars, and event venues, little rituals matter more than you think. They’re the difference between feeling like a frazzled tourist and functioning like a working writer. Even something as small as unpacking my notebook onto the desk or brewing the same tea I drink at home tricks my brain into settling in.
Where I Write (and Where I Don’t)
Hotel rooms? Not my favorite. Too boxy. Too beige. Too stale. I’d much rather write in:
- A tucked-away café
- A shady porch with a view
- A quiet park bench
- The aisle seat of a cross-country flight
I’ve drafted out entire outlines of novels on an airplane. Something about being above the clouds, no notifications, no laundry, just the hum of engines and an open document. I’ve learned to follow where the creative energy feels easiest, even if it’s not “ideal.”
When I Write (and How I Plan for It)
I always plan for more than I can actually do. I’ll pack a list of scenes to tackle, estimate daily writing time, and sketch out a loose schedule. And then life happens. Delayed flights. Last-minute meetups. Tired brain. So I adjust.
My one rule? If I don’t write in the morning, it probably won’t happen. Once the day starts rolling, so do the distractions. But early morning, with a hot cup of coffee and the world still quiet? That’s when the words show up. And if I’m lucky, they follow me into the rest of the day.
The Truth About Writing While Traveling
So what actually gets done?
Honestly? Not always as much as I hope. But that doesn’t mean it’s not valuable.
What Actually Gets Done
I use travel time to:
- Rework tricky scenes
- Draft messy bits of dialogue
- Research. Research. Research.
- Journal and brainstorm new story threads
- Freewrite to stay connected to my voice
Do I write full chapters? Sometimes I have to if a deadline is looming. But the real goal is to stay creatively open. Even a few hundred words keeps the momentum alive. On some trips, I return with more notes than polished pages and those scribbles often turn into the best scenes later. They’re unfiltered, written in stolen moments, infused with the textures and sounds of wherever I happen to be. Those rough edges make them feel alive when I come back to them later at my desk.
How I Stay Focused (When Everything’s Changing)
When you’re on the move, consistency is key. For me, that means:
- Writing in the same playlist or ambient soundtrack
- Using the same notebook format wherever I go
- Keeping the bar low: 30 minutes, one page, one scene
Motion can be disorienting. But it can also be wildly generative. Walking helps. So does staring out a train window with nothing but your own imagination. The title for book 2, Secret Remains came to me somewhere between Italy and France on a train ride through the Alps.
Inspiration in Motion
Every trip becomes a treasure trove of sensory detail:
- A conversation you overhear in a coffee line
- The way a riverboat crewman calls out across the docks
- The scent of a mildewy bookstore basement
Travel writing isn’t always about volume. It’s about capturing fragments you’d never find at home, details that feel ordinary in the moment but later unlock a scene or character in ways you couldn’t have planned. Even if I come home with nothing but a pocketful of these fragments, I count it as a win.
Glamour vs. Grit: Real Life on the Road
Let’s break it down:
What people think it looks like:
- Author breakfasts
- Gorgeous hotel suites
- Fancy bookstore stages
What it actually looks like:
- Rushing to an event in wrinkled clothes because the hotel iron didn’t work
- Eating granola bars for dinner
- Hoping the Uber driver doesn’t get lost before your signing
- Trying to look alert at 9pm after a full day of talking, signing, smiling, and networking
- Lugging an overstuffed tote through a crowded airport because you couldn’t resist buying “just one more” book
It’s beautiful in its own way. But it’s not glamorous. Like the writing itself, the travel side of this job is full of grit, improvisation, and constant recalibration. The joy is real. So is the exhaustion and the unshakable sense that you wouldn’t trade it for anything.
What I’ve Learned from Being a Writer on the Road
Every trip teaches me something new, about myself, about the work, about the world.
Some big lessons:
- You don’t need the perfect space to write; sometimes the cramped airplane tray table is enough
- Small moments can fuel big ideas, like a stranger’s offhand comment that sparks a subplot
- Planning matters, but flexibility matters more
- Protecting your energy is part of the job
- You’ll never regret making space for the work, even when it’s imperfect
Writing while traveling isn’t about discipline. It’s about connection, staying tethered to your story, no matter where your suitcase lands, and trusting that the work will meet you wherever you are. And perhaps most importantly, it’s about remembering that every mile, delay, and unexpected detour is just another chapter in the larger story you’re telling, both on the page and in your own life.
For the Writers Who Are Always in Motion
If you’re in a season of movement, literally or creatively, this is your reminder: it counts. The half-scenes, the coffee shop notes, the scribbled dialogue in your phone? That’s writing. Those scraps become the threads you’ll weave together later.
Whether you’re chasing deadlines on the road, planning your first bookstore event, or just trying to finish a paragraph in an airport lounge, you’re not alone. We’ve all been there, balancing luggage and laptops, grabbing five stolen minutes before boarding.
Writing is never about perfection. It’s about showing up. Listening in. Writing it down before it disappears. And if you see me scribbling plot twists on a napkin in Concourse B? Just know… I’m working and so are you.
