For many an author, the road to writing is lined with empty bottles.
Personally, I have found that alcohol works well when it comes to my insubstantial adventure travel writing, both in terms of execution and while awaiting acclamation.
Notwithstanding my early years in Scouting, and subsequent decades of literature-inspired adventure travel, an occasional blog post about my latest adventure folly in the field, an accomplished travel writer does not make.
The path I have taken en route to becoming a global humor travel writer has been ignominiously ignored by both print media and online domains, which is not to say, that this is not an undeserved plight.
But, my travel adventures are relatively mundane, thus lacking the fodder for exhilarating tales.
While I was once frightened by the looming shadow of a rather large rabbit, to date, my flesh remains unmarred by jaguars, and my lower limbs have suffered nary a gnaw by wolverines.
I once got a menacing stare from a duck because I would not share my butterworms, but thankfully, I avoided being pecked to death.
Possibly, I would be a better writer if enlightenment was not so hard to hold.
Contrary to certain world renown travel writers who are said to have gotten lost in their own backyard, as I previously pontificated, I have never been in that predicament.
I do seem to get myself into an occasional outlandish travel situation that is cause for clamorous celebration of my travel companions, even though I might think that it was not so funny when it happened.
And, even with my chronic fever for road trips, my dreams have been buried by editors who have rejected my countless un-written, thus un-submitted travel stories.
Yet, my lack of writing acumen has not deterred me from years of self-published posts, thanks to any-idiot-wannabe-writer-can-use blogging software, which I also link from Facebook, as if I needed the added literary indifference.
And amazingly, still no one has confused me with the storied statesmen of evocative adventure travel writing prose, Tim Cahill.
(Tim, please note that I did not say “elder” statesman.)
Whether Facebook posts represent even a scintilla of a legitimate alternative to “real writing” remains to be determined, Even then, I sometimes struggle with the minutiae of Facebook.
The other day I was playing with my self (portrait) for a possible profile picture, which somehow posted itself worldwide. I was not sure how that happened, but ultimately two people even “Liked” it.
One was my adopted, third daughter/ ski-snowboard buddy, who I bribe with brews for her positive acknowledgements of my blog posts.
The other was the world renown, and my longtime adventure travel writing hero/mentor, Tim Cahill, who I once bribed with a substantial amount of Bombay Sapphire. (You would have thought it would have worn off by now.)
So, as I surmised, my road to writing has benefitted, at least in some fashion, from the drink.
And, improbably, has made my face Likeable.