Sometimes, when I tell people I’m a travel writer, they ask if I studied journalism in college.
“No,” I answer. “I didn’t.” And I’m not really a journalist either. Journalism is a noble profession, but as a species of writing it’s sometimes hamstrung by its own rulebook.
Here’s an excerpt from one of my Cambodia notebooks:
Why I’m a travel writer, not a journalist. I can follow a hunch, record hearsay, call an asshole an asshole, make an impression of a place that will be true for me, to this experience, something deeper than a dossier of facts and smellier than a press room briefing: truth in color. You’ve got to go, you’ve got to see, you’ve got to piss people off – you’ve got to float down a Cambodian river, and feel the heat of the sun.
Enjoy the stories.