10 Tips for Writers on the Road
In September 2020, I traveled the northern route from New York City to Trout Lake, Washington, in my 2010 Toyota Tacoma. Here is what I learned.
When the pandemic hit, I found myself without a job, a partner, a pet, or even a plant. I did have a truck, and you know what they say: have truck, will travel.
The plan: visit the family (where and when appropriate), sleep out of my truck (where and when safe to do so), and write the next Great American novel while traveling across America the Great. Two out of three ain’t bad.
Here is what I learned:
- Know your preferred sleeping sites, and remember, safety first.
Have a budget for emergency hotel stays, either for safety’s sake or if you need a productivity boost. And know your limits when it comes to safety.
I planned to camp in a variety of sites and sleep in my truck. The campsites I chose going into my trip were HipCamp sites, state and national parks, and Kampgrounds of America (KOA). I even considered boondocking.
For my first two overnights, I stayed at KOAs in Pennsylvania and Ohio, and on my third, I tried a HipCamp just outside of Cleveland. I loved them all.
In Wisconsin, I planned to stay at a state park. I arrived at dusk, and by the time I got to the campsite, it was pitch black. There was no moonlight (rain on the way), and the only light came from the camp across the way. A single older gentleman in a big white van was enflaming his fire by squirting lighter fluid on it. I left the park and booked a room at a nearby Best Western.
The rain that clouded the moonlight stuck around for the next few days. Since I was already in a hotel, I hunkered down to bang out some work. It was the most productive I had been thus far.
I committed to staying at KOAs for the remainder of my trip as their grounds are incredibly well-lit, and I know what I will get. Also, hotel stays were in; boondocking was out.
2. Get in touch with long lost friends and family, don’t expect a place to stay, but take the necessary precautions if you do.
I decided to take a risky trip. I try to minimize the effects that choice has on others. I was fortunate enough to have lunch with my father’s cousin; I did not expect or ask for a place to crash. I was able to stay with my sister outside of Chicago, but I had essentially quarantined for 14 days before arriving at her place.
3. Get caffeinated.
For me, road trips equal caffeine. Writing equals caffeine. While nothing beats a gas station coffee, it is hard to write in a convenience store.
As of publication, Panera Bread has a deal that nets you unlimited coffee for eight dollars a month. Panera has wifi for customers and outdoor seating. Many Panera locations have a drive-through.
4. Get a converter charger and a backup battery bank.
Next to food, water, and shelter, power is one of the basic human needs for writing on the road.
Make sure the tools of your trade are in good working order is paramount. The laptop dies; you’re screwed. Stack the deck in your favor and purchase a back-up battery that you can lug along with you in power-scarce places AND a converter charger (the kind that plugs into your lighter) that can charge your electronics while you drive. I got something like this and this.
Be sure to charge up your backup at any chance you get. Bring it into rest stops and coffee shops to charge. Be weird.
5. Get your phone set up as a hot spot.
Writing in all sorts of parks was one of my favorite perks of the trip. If finding a power outlet in a park is tricky at best, getting a wifi signal is damn near impossible.
I had never used a hot spot before this trip. When I called to get it set up on my phone, I got an unrelated discount on the call, and my monthly bill ended up lower. Woot!
For me, 30GB of hotspot data per month was plenty. I used only when wifi isn’t an option and really tried to find wifi when I could. I have yet to go over my data.
6. Get familiar with the local parks, restaurants with outdoor seating, parking, and outlet situations, first thing.
While in upstate New York, I had been at a table under a park gazebo all day, using my backup battery bank. I later went into a restaurant to charge my pack and bought lunch to do so. When I returned to my table in the park, I noticed eight outlets within usable distance from where I sat. On my last day in the same area, I got a doughnut from the local baker, who offered to let me sit on the patio and use their wifi, even after the shop closed at 1 PM.
My sister gave me a great piece of advice: You have to be in the mindset that you want assistance to get your needs met, and then keep your eyes, mind, and heart open to receiving help.
7. Get in on a hotel rewards program and stay loyal.
I signed up with Best Western Rewards when I booked my impromptu stay in Wisconsin.
However, when I stopped in Pendelton, Oregon, for the night when the fires made visibility too hard for me to continue, I found a hotel that looked cute online and was $80 cheaper than the Best Western. I should have scrolled to see the reviews. My rose-colored glasses got the best of me, and I wanted to believe I found a great deal in the historic woolen mill town. The place was terrifying, and when I read the reviews after I was in my room, they confirmed my fears. I high-tailed it out of there and booked at the Best Western anyway, except now the room category I wanted was sold out. My room ended up costing even more.
Maybe the cost will even out with the points I accumulate (I think?). But the peace of mind and a good night's sleep that I know I’ll get at my preferred hotel chain have value. And so does a free continental breakfast.
8. Time management tip: Write first, explore later.
While traveling, you will want to see beautiful sights, go on hikes, and enjoy the natural splendor of this great country. You will also be on a deadline.
To help manage your time, think about what’s important and make those a priority. At Mount Rushmore, I wanted to be in and out in 30 minutes. Driving through Yellowstone on my way to Jackson, Wyoming, I wanted to have some time.
Create opportunities for surprises, and also have faith that things will work out. I got a lot of writing done before driving through South Dakota because I had no idea what to expect from the Badlands or how long I wanted to stay there. When I was in Jackson, I had a meltdown because I was holed up in my hotel the whole time and didn’t get the chance to hike. It turns out, the smoke from the wildfires had gotten so bad that no one was doing any outdoor activity anyway. It was best to stay indoors, after all.
Focus on writing. You will have the time needed to see what you want to see. Plus, the sites are better enjoyed without a deadline hanging over your head.
9. Connect with the locals when you can.
In Watkins Glen in upstate New York, I made sure to take a mental health break and hit up the local Farmer’s Market on Sunday. I had an article due that afternoon. A farmer named Sue and I got to chatting, and she gave me some great advice for my road trip. A woman I sat next to at a breakfast counter in Cody, Wyoming, gave me some great advice for traveling through the area.
10. Get real, and be kind.
The life of a traveling writer is very romantic. But we are in the middle of a pandemic, weather phenomenons, and political tensions, in addition to commonplace mischief. Don’t be blind to the risks, and keep your eyes open.
I had my battery bank stolen from me just feet away from where I was sitting in Cleveland. Wearing a mask in Cody, Wyoming, I stuck out like a sore thumb. Three times I felt incredibly unsafe in my overnight accommodations and had to find emergency, alternate options. One time all of the campgrounds at my destination were sold out, and I had to have a friend help book a hotel while I was driving.
Be courteous and genuinely curious when you are in a new town. Be kind. Think of it as being a guest in someone else’s home. Walk in the door, say hello to the locals, ask questions. In being genuine and sincere, I got a handmade face mask in Pennslyvania, my meter fed by a team of construction workers in Cleveland, a free transmission check in Idaho, and a ten-dollar parking spot where I could sleep in my truck in a soldout KOA.
These may seem trivial, but when you drive as many miles as you are writing words per day, these little moments can feel like miracles. (They are.) Some of the people you meet might make it into that novel or show up in an article you write about your experiences. At the very least, they will keep your proverbial gas tank full.
