Anyway– the same day that I ordered my new Air I spent a couple of hours leisurely roaming around downtown Point Pleasant. The quaint shops make this beach town so great– I really love the beach scene and can’t believe that the Jersey Shore show is filmed in the next town over. Don’t get me started, but that show— I detest it– it gives the real Shore such a bad name.

The beach stores and the local True Value are normally the stores I browse but today, for some reason, I glanced towards the antique store across from the coffee shop. In my college days I thought shopping at antique stores was chic–but as I got older (and learned more about bed bugs and how they can live in ANYTHING) I steered clear, they just became too… shabby. But today something caught my eye. Through the window next to the the old fashioned washboard and and just behind the slightly rusted ancient tin sign of a woman advertising Coca-Cola was a typewriter. It wasn’t the kind of typewriter I used in my senior year keyboarding with Ms. McCarroll who sashayed her 60+ year old stomach around the classroom in her nauseating half shirts while we all typed out how that brown dog jumped over the lazy fox… or fox over dog– I forget.

Senior Year Ms. McCarroll typewriter

This was the kind from the “olden” days– from the 40′s (but oddly, similar to the one my grandmother’s doctor’s receptionist still uses in teeny tiny Omak, Washington).

The porcelin keys were rounded, off-white and naturally, I’m guessing, indented for ideal placement of the finger pads– but likely even more indented from years of use. The perfect fit of my fingers on the a s d f & j k l ; keys felt incredible, and I realize it may seem strange to some that I would use the adjective incredible to describe this feeling— but it was.
As far as I could tell, the keys didn’t stick when pressed and after I removed the “Do Not Touch” sign off of the ribbon area, I tested the return function and it worked! There was even ribbon and the body of the machine was in tact except for inches of dust accumulated in the crevices.

As a writer I have had my eye on one of these “real” typewriters for years, but the price was always unjustifiable to me considering it would be used only for decoration. On eBay I’ve seen similar models that sold for well over $300 and some as high as $700 so I was skeptical that this one had a price tag of just $37. After replacing the “Do Not Touch” tag I decided to walk around the store to see what else was for sale while the clerk helped an elderly woman compare Cupie dolls. I saw an old rotary pay phone and an even older record player– but both were priced at what I figured was reasonable but still much less than I thought the typewriter should have been priced.

Cupie or Kewpie doll

After the elderly woman bought her collection of Cupies, I inquired about the typewriter, trying to hide my amazement that it was priced so low. It was a Royal Deluxe from the 40′s and it worked with ribbon the clerk picked up at Staples (Who knew, turns out they still make ribbon for these old typewriter models).

Apparently this antique store bought out an estate sale and $37 was what they thought was a fair price for this Royal since it didn’t have a case. Of course, I bought it.

Once home I showed it off to anyone who’d care (my husband still doesn’t really get why I bought this huge paperweight) and I also googled the hell out of it. Not only did I see the SAME model in similar shape for sale in the $500′s, I learned that Ernest Hemingway used this same model, and if that isn’t purchase validation I don’t know what is!

I may not be a writer of Hemingway’s stature and even while I write this post on my fancy-shmancy top of the line new Air, my “olden days” typewriter makes me feel happy to the core whenever I glance over and see it sitting on my desk.

So back to the writing to pay the bills thing… yes, you read this correctly! Whoo hoo–the dream is becoming a reality. However, the bills that would be fully paid by my writing thus far would maybe pay for a lightbulb to glow in a Barbie Dream House–but still, whoo hoo!

thats me, the blonde, showing off the lightbulb I was able to finance

But seriously — I have once again been writing for my local area newspapers and lately have had the pleasure to interview and write about local “heroes” that give of themselves to help those less fortunate.

I know, its not the 100% travel writing I set out to do but the other day I had the fortunate experience to speak with a Lonely Planet author (check out their guidebooks) that told me “most of us travel writers do non-travel writing to pay the bills.” While I see that is true, I wonder–in this dying print media world — will I ever make a career out of just travel writing?

Yes. Unequivocally, yes. But in the mean time, if I have the opportunity to do other writing that feels good, enriches others (and pays the bills) I will be perfectly content.

A few years ago I started a basic blog that highlighted the fun, interesting and sometimes craziness of my move from Seattle to New York. It started out as a vehicle for my family and friends to see what my husband and I were up to on our new adventure but it turned into a site that, still surprising to me, had regular readers from all over the world. The blog didn’t document my daily life activities, but more so what note worthy things we saw as we became residents of the left coast (i.e., road trips to nearby states, playing tourist at the Jersey Shore, getting lost in the streets of Brooklyn). To be honest though–the mundane did rise to the surface at times with posts on things like my dogs looking incredibly cute in their new argyle sweaters or my moaning and groaning while sick on the couch one horrible weekend a couple of years ago.

About a year ago, as I started to do more freelance travel writing for actual money (whoo-hoo), I found less time to keep up this personal blog and began devoting most of my time to my freelance gigs and my new travel website–my “real” website. I decided I needed to brand myself to broaden my freelance career and to me that meant writing pieces more “professional” in nature, more career-centric. So after some internal debate, I decided to close down my personal blog and focus on my “real” website displaying articles on travel and lifestyle — some with deep personal insight, humor or with unique views on the what/where/why — of specific places. All of the articles though would showcase my “real” writing.

Happily, over the last year my “real” website has brought me added visibility within the writing community and has led me to some amazing freelance opportunities. My “real” website has morphed into a very integral part of my writing career and I spend evenings lying in bed thinking of article ideas, upcoming trips or how to learn computer code so I can alter my website on a whim. My postings, while generally lengthy, are not done on a regular basis and the pieces I do decide to post occur as the result of multiple drafts and are of the caliper I would feel comfortable pitching to a magazine. I am proud of my “real” website postings and edits and rewrites are what this profession is about, but I realized that even with my freelance gigs multiplying (yay!), I spent more time thinking about writing than actually writing.

Next month I am heading to New Zealand for vacation and my Aunt Cindy, one of my biggest supporters and an avid reader of my now defunct personal blog, asked me where my writing will be posted during the trip so she can follow and read up on my NZ adventures every day. Every day.
I started an email to say that I probably wouldn’t post everyday–that I don’t do that anymore. “Instead,” I typed, “I will probably write a large introspective piece on NZ that will likely appear in some form on my website but would end up being one that I’ll submit to a travel magazine“. As I reread my email draft to her — I stopped myself. Why can’t I post about the trip everyday? Aren’t I a travel writer? So what if one day I write about something that doesn’t have a conclusion that ties in nicely with a clever opening quote? So what if some of my posts on my “real” website aren’t feature story material for the latest issue of an adventure travel magazine? While trying to become a more professional “real” writer, I seem to have forgotten the basic rule that all writers must adhere to: Write. Just write.

By writing daily, a writer develops her voice and gains perspective through reader feedback. For me, when I wrote more regularly, article ideas worthy of publication in mainstream media often came gushing out without much forced thought. By getting back into writing everyday–on what I am passionate about–travel, in all of its forms, I know I will be helping myself to become a better and more successful “real” writer.

So Aunt Cindy, you can check my “real” website everyday while I am in New Zealand–and other times, because I have decided to take a step back to go forward, and just write.

well– this is a somber post.

As you know, I am a writer (well, an inspiring aspiring one, but actually calling myself a writer in a public forum is the right thing to do from a motivational standpoint) and as a writer, I pitch several ideas for articles to many different publications.

Recently I pitched an idea to a famous Newspaper that is read all around the world and makes its home in Manhattan. This publication shall remain unnamed in this post as the journalist society is a small one…

Anyway– my pitch, to this world famous newspaper (that makes its home in Manhattan and who everyone I am sure can guess its name) a few months ago, to the very specific regional section in the Weekend edition, centered on a specific artsy town near Princeton, NJ. My pitch, very concise yet detailed (which is possible), was sent to them in time for the Spring/pre-Summer rush for their readers to benefit from the small town community, historical sites, antique shops and art gallerys (as well as the best pet shop you’ll ever visit in the NE) before the Summer crowds take residence. I did not hear back from the editor (of whom I had his direct email address AND name) even after I pinged him a couple of times–which is how it sometimes goes in this “business”. I was not discouraged– I just assumed that this was not the time for this type of article.

Since then, I had gotten married, vacationed in paradise and worked very hard at my “real” job.
Upon returning back from a vacation, I was reading the above unnamed Sunday paper, as I always do on the weekend, and when my eye caught the front page of the local, regional specific section it felt as though my body forgot how to breathe. On the front page was an entire article featuring THE SAME TOWN I had pitched with the SAME EMPHASIS on the art galleries and town charm.

Now, I beg of you, please make your own call on this predicament that I find myself in:
Is she just being arrogant to think that it may be possible that her story idea was so perfect and so wonderful that it was bound to be “professonally borrowed” and given to a staff writer at this famous publication in order to save money in this dying newspaper print world?
or
Is she being naive to think that surely she can’t be the only person to have thought about this town and its artsy ways and that this is just bound to happen and that surely another person would have known the newspaper lead time and the editor’s info (which honestly–is very possible) and the draw this town has to all people in the NE region?

To be fair to myself, I have not yet made a decision on where I feel I stand on this issue. My friends and colleagues have been kind enough to throw their hands in the air and cry “thief” (thanks guys) and tell me that my idea was “stolen”… but I am not as quick to jump to that conclusion.

As it is, the only conclusion that matters is that the story has been written and I need to keep plugging away with other inspiring travel articles about areas both near and far to pitch to the many publications out there. Oh yeah, and maybe get an agent (I can dream).

Thanks for your sympathy in advance.

** the image appearing in this post is both fitting and also found on the blog Bits n Bytes of Life of from which I borrowed it…