What comes next?
Shifting dreams, stories, and timelines
Hey friends,
A big title this week, I know, but I've been walking on the periphery of all the big places recently - asking the big questions, wishing for big answers, and not really getting anywhere.
I used to be really good at embracing the unknown. I used to love hitchhiking, for example, and that leads to a lot of unknowns. Mostly good, sometimes bad, but I liked the luck of the draw.
For years, my favourite thing in the world was grabbing my bag, a stack of cardboard, and a pen and hitting the road. My university bedroom was covered in weathered signs with all the names of the places I'd been.
17 years on and life has changed a lot. I’m happy with who I am now - I don’t want to go back to being that more happy-go-lucky 18-year-old - but I also feel like I’m not quite where I want to be or doing the things I really want to be doing.
It’s almost as if there's a void, a disconnect. Like I can see the end goal, but the path to get there is overgrown and covered in fog. Although, to be honest, that feels like a bit like a metaphor for the whole world right now.
Everything feels pretty rough and heavy; like we’ve all lost our way.
In my case, I keep trying to remind myself that this is all part of the journey, even though my seeking mind keeps trying to fill in the gaps. It wants answers and direction, and it wants them yesterday.
It's been both a big week and a quiet one. I submitted my final articles and invoice for my travel writing job, and instead of the excitement I expected, I just felt empty. It's been a wild ride navigating that - and trying not to make it mean anything - but I think I'm honest I'm just really frigging exhausted. It's been a big few years.
This job is one of the longest jobs I've ever had, even if I was only a contractor. It kept my head and my bank account above water during the hardest times - COVID, visa struggles, hours-long daily calls with my mum who was descending into Alzheimer’s, trips back to the UK to see her, trying to build a life on the other side of the world from all my friends and family.
It's also been the one thing that has helped me cling to my traveller identity, even now, 5.5 years after I stopped being a full-time traveller. Sure, I still do the odd road trip and a couple of weeks in the UK/Europe each year to see family and friends, but that kind of pales into insignificance after nearly seven years of full-time travel.
Most people I meet now have no idea about all the places I've been and all the things I've seen. Most of them aren’t the kind of things that just come up in conversation.
I don't really want to be all like “Oh yeah, that one time I… worked on a festival that got shut down by the cops on a private island in Cambodia that was co-owned by a Russian oligarch who had previously been punched in the face on live TV by the owner of the Independent Newspaper, and who then got arrested on his private yacht and extradited to Russia, where he decided to launch a presidential bid.”
Also, that's all a true story, although I'm only telling you the bare bones. The full one has snakes, stabbings (the literal and in-the-back kind), and all sorts of other scandals.*
*Sources included, because I'm not sharing anything that isn't already out there, if you know where to look.
Sometimes I feel like I've spent my whole life collecting stories. Many of them, like that, are too bonkers to be made up. Most are way more interesting than the kind of “Go here, see this, do that” that has been my bread and butter these past 11 years.
And, while there's no doubt we need that kind of content - I'm all for making travel accessible - I'm also a bit over it.
It’s funny to admit that, because, for 15 years, all I wanted was to write for Lonely Planet and Nat Geo. When I was 18, Lonely Planet guidebooks were my life. They were my favourite gifts. I cherished them, devoured them. I remember when I first met a Lonely Planet writer in Myanmar and felt almost starstruck.
A couple of years ago, though, I just woke up one day and realised that that wasn't actually my dream anymore. After a couple of rejections, I'd just kind of lost interest and stopped pitching them without even thinking about it. It just wasn't a guiding light. I didn't miss it, either. At least not until I noticed it, but even then it was more like I missed having a dream, rather than that specific dream.
I genuinely believe dreams can be key to shaping our future - even if the specifics of the dreams themselves don’t come true or change over time. For example, even though I didn’t make it into Lonely Planet or Nat Geo, the dream still changed my life. It led me to become a travel agent, leave it all behind for a life on the road, and go all-in with building up a travel writing career I’m proud of.
It also led to me “making” it as a published writer, which, given that I've also dreamed of writing books since I was a little girl, actually feels even more validating without the “travel” in front of it.
Instead of getting too caught up on the ins and outs, once I realised that dream had past, I gave myself permission to dive deeper into my dreams and work with them - something I now do with most of my clients.
For me, opening that “dream portal” felt like meeting a new friend - one that you feel like you’ve known your whole life and click with instantly, but one who is still new all the same. It was like a massive, warm hug and a permission slip to let go of the dreams that no longer aligned to make space for new ones that are.
What I found through doing that dreaming work was a different dream: one around helping others and writing the things I want to write. One where I work 1:1 with people through mentoring and book coaching, along with running writing clubs and workshops, creative circles, and co-working community sessions.
One where I get to use my skills to make me feel good and get rewarded for it, rather than just trying to force my creativity to pay the bills or squeeze it into a box writing how-tos because I thought it was what the world needed - and because I was good at it and liked the praise and recognition.
While I could keep going with writing the how-tos and the must-sees, it feels so much harder to justify spending all my creative energy regurgitating stuff that’s already out there.
If I write - when I write - I want to write about the bigger things; the silly and strange stories; the shared humanity; or, at the very least, interesting quirks and obscure facts. I also want to write my own stories - although probably not ones about Russian oligarchs - and share more of my own experiences.
Sometimes, when I sit down to write these I wonder “Who cares?”, but then I remember how much I love reading other people’s stories. How other people’s words make me feel less alone in the world, no matter what I’m going through.
And, as uncomfortable as it feels to let go of all that how-to and must-see knowledge that lives rent-free in my brain after 17 years in the travel industry, I also know many of those skills are transferable, too.
As a travel agent and trip planner, I learned how to help people put together their perfect trips. I learned how to ask the right questions, figure out their dreams, and bring them to reality. I learned about sales, marketing, and meeting expectations.
As a travel writer, I learned how to source information, consume it, digest it, pitch/sell it, position it, write it, deliver it, and live up to my promises.
As a creative business owner, I learned a heck of a lot about it all.
Now, I get to bring it all together. Instead of following the beaten path, I get to go off-piste and make my own. I may not know what that looks like, but I know where I want to go, and I know how I want it to feel.
My seeking mind may want answers, but the deeper wisdom inside me wants us to lean into it. To trust it. To stop trying to force things and just let them unfold as they should.
I know from my days of hitchhiking that you could never will a lift to come - and ignoring your gut and getting in a vehicle you know you shouldn’t is definitely a bad idea. Another one always comes.
I may not have the answers to the big questions right now, but I just have to trust that they’ll come, as long as I just start walking in the right direction.
After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day, and as my own mentor likes to point out, I’ve only been doing this work for just over a year. It’ll take time to get where I want to go - but that’s all a big part of the journey.
I guess there’s nothing left but to embrace the unknown, surround myself with good people who lift me up and support me, and go after those dreams.
Big things to come on that front. I’ll give you an update next week!
I hope you’re going gently out there.
Lots of love,
Cx
PS: I am currently putting together a waitlist for creative circles, AMA calls, and coworking sessions. I’m also considering a Writing Club (UK morning/Aus afternoon). If you fancy expanding your creative community or have questions about the creative life you’d like to chat more about, please feel free to reach out or hit reply.
Alternatively, if you’d prefer to work 1:1, I am currently taking on five new creative mentoring clients for November. If you’re intrigued, just drop me a line and we can have a chat to see if we’ll be a good fit for each other.
PPS: As always, if you would like to support me and my work, you can sign up for a paid subscription, buy me a coffee, like, comment, share, or even invite a friend to read these posts. I’m grateful to you all for being here.
can’t wait to see what’s on the horizon!!
The pause is the awkward bit before everything drops into place. Hold firm. You are brilliant at what you do, it will come together.