Published in the Indian edition of National Geographic Traveller. (the Issuu link is below)

Being in any way associated with National Geographic has been a huge dream of mine for a long, long time.  And ironically, this article was one of the first pitches I sent out – one that got systematically rejected over and over again for years

I’ve always liked stories. I remember my parents reading them to me as a child, I remember being obsessed with fantasy (I still am), and finally learning that there’s very little difference between fantasy and travel – most fantasy books really are just stories about leaving home, finding who you really are amidst the strange and wonderful, and learning to appreciate where you come from.

Fantasy was  an escape from a life I didn’t want yet knew was destined to have. In learning to tell my own stories, I have, almost by accident, found a reality that matches the fiction. And if you didn’t know me when I was a painfully shy kid in middle school, you have no idea how absolutely ridiculous this all is – that I, of all people, am in this magazine, doing this as a living.

But then again, looking back, it’s not that ludicrous. I’ve always been surrounded by adventurers. Nathan Savage had me fighting dragons and traveling to distant lands in my mind far before I started reading about them, and the Boy Scouts I grew up with -James and Jeff, Ryan and Brian – told tall tales of their own exploits. Mrs. Calloway, Wellborn, and Fusco (7th, 8th, and 12th grade English) nurtured in me a love for writing while Mrs. Readal in the Willow Creek Library and my old haunts in the Kingwood Library taught me a love of reading.

You must forgive me – I was shy then, you helped me, and I didn’t have the words to adequately thank you. But I remember you all.

You still all loom large in my mind, as do the people I met later. Lydia Schrandt, whose support carried me through the times I had no will or lust for life of any kind, Plunker, whose boldness inspired all of this. Andrew, you put all of us to shame with your adventures – if anyone can be accused of being too bold it’s you. Teacher Roberts who first advised me in Thailand about life, purpose, and travel. The list goes on to my fellow writers, who I hope to meet and thank in the future. Chuck Thompson, Robert Twigger, Peter Gwin, Rolf Potts, and Peter Hessler, all former ESL teachers like me. So many, many people.

Peter Hessler once wrote in a book that he “felt a sense of brotherhood with anybody who peddled stories.”

I think that getting into a big name publication and rising through the ranks is great. But as a peddler of stories, the struggle is always finding homes for tales that you feel are important. Often times those stories may not be the ones that are accepted everywhere – they’re personal narratives or they describe the underbelly of a place, things that don’t necessarily fall into neat eye-catching packages like “The 10 Top Ten Sexiest Beaches in South America.”

And for stories that I’ve shoved in the bottom desk drawer – and there are many of those – there’s a sort of tension that builds, a frustration at being unable to air them out and give them their proper due.  With publications like NatGeo Traveller, I’ve found places where I feel I can begin to let these stories see the light of day. There’s an immense sense of relief that vies with the kick I get with the purely professional successes.

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So here’s to the peddlers and that bottom desk drawer and tales yet to be told.  Here’s to the adventurers and here’s to the people who inspire without knowing they ever did.

Thank you. Thank you so very much.