How to Be a Successful Bad Travel Writer

A professor of literary criticism once described travel writers as “tourists with typewriters.” This apt but archaic description might be updated for the 2020s as “sightseers in search of self-affirmation” or “junketeers with writing gear.” Whatever the case, most journalists and literary critics don’t take travel writing seriously. And so why should you? It’s much easier to just be a bad travel writer. You get the same benefits: free trips, rooftop media parties with all the free shrimp you can eat, and sense of superiority from everyone to your nine-to-five-working neighbors and office-groveling friends and family to that guy sitting next to you on the airplane reading a Daniel Patterson novel. Why fight with family at Thanksgiving when you can lean back in your chair and, with a smug smile, think: I’m a travel writer.

Just follow this 12-step plan below and you’ll be a published travel writer in no time.

● Let’s start with you. Travel writing is not about the destination nor the people who live there. It’s all about you, you, and you. The local people are just a backdrop, mere extras in support of your starring role in that place. These exotic folk are there to help you create a sense of place for your selfies. Bring on the likes!

A travel writer hard at work! Photo by David Farley

● Speaking of solipsism, it’s important when you’re on the road and gathering information and experiences for your article that you talk to as few people as possible. Remember: we only want to know your opinions of the place. Quoting people is for real journalists; not travel writers. Which brings up another characteristic you should not fall trap to: curiosity. It killed the cat. Don’t let it kill you.

● When you sit down to write, the first thing you’re going to have to deal with is the intro, or, as it’s called in the biz, the lede. Here’s a pro-tip: it’s always a good idea to open any travel story with 1) superlatives and 2) how lucky the place is to have you there. Perhaps a quote, “Congratulation, I have arrived.” If not, then consider opening your piece on the flight to your destination. It’s a huge cliché but who cares. Travel writers who avoid cliches are elitists.

● Try not to have much of a point. Glossy travel magazine and newspaper travel section editors like articles to have something called an angle, your perspective on the place, and normally it should be as fresh and unique as possible. The "nut graph," an oddly named anatomical literary part, comes toward the end of an article's intro and states the angle of the article. It tells the reader where this article is going and it helps you, the writer, craft a piece that stays focused. You don’t need a nut graph. Instead, craft a narrative that involves a play-by-play of everything that happened on your trip.

●When writing a short memoir piece or personal essay, keep in mind that they often ape fiction in terms of literary technique. Dialogue, story arc, and characterization are usually important. Not for travel writing though. Polish-born writer Ryszard Kapuscinski said, “My writing is a combination of three elements. The first is travel: not travel like tourist, but travel as exploration. The second is reading literature on the subject. The third is reflection.” So painfully antiquated. See the tip above regarding only writing about yourself and your fact-free opinions about the place. De-colonize travel writing? Huh? Become the FOX News of travel writing.

● Speaking of memoir, make stuff up! Travel writing is not journalism; it’s an arm of the travel industry. So, no need to do actual reporting or sticking to the facts. Interviewing people? Nonsense. Late travel writer Jan Morris once said, “I resist the idea that travel writing has got to be factual.” You should resist this too.

Risking your life for Insta likes. Way to go travel writer! Photo by David Farley

● To gain material to write about, go on as many press trips as possible. Press trips, or press junkets or fam trips, are free all-expense paid trips sponsored by a country tourist board or, say, a hotel company. These trips handhold a herd of writers, bloggers, and the talentless Kardashian branch of travel writing, the influencers, to a destination—from airport pick-up to drop-off and, in between, showering them with five-star luxury. Like pampered princes and princesses, they are shielded from seeing or experiencing any misfortune, adversity, or tribulation. Your biggest discomfort might be that you didn’t get to fly in biz class or that the Michelin-starred restaurant you’re dining at won’t accommodate your non-gluten diet. And for that you should throw a tantrum, leveling a not-so-veiled threat by pointing out how many Instagram followers you have.

Just do what most people do on press trips: regurgitate whatever the PR person says and write your round-up articles based on the itinerary that was created for you and your fellow luxury hotel-loving peers.

● Become a Count or a Countess. When introducing yourself to fellow travelers and travel writers, always volunteer the number of countries you’ve visited as soon as possible. The purpose of travel writing is not about entertaining and educating readers on the world outside their borders: it’s about how many countries you’ve been to. Even if you’ve only spent one night there, it counts. And if your number is higher than others, you’re much better than they are. Period.

● Don’t read good travel writing. It’s true that reading good writing can make you a better writer, but it will only serve to make you frustrated. Don’t read The New Yorker or Granta, the Paris Review or Literary Hub. Don’t pour through the 20 editions of the annual Best American Travel Writing anthology. Neither should you consider joining a writing group or taking a writing class. Any rando can become a bad travel writer without all this nonsense and so can you.

Take photos of everything! Photo by David Farley

● Use as many cringe-worthy clichés as possible. Are you writing about Los Angeles or Lagos or pretty much every big city on the planet that has a large disparity between the prosperous and the poor? Then you're contractually obligated to refer to it as a "city of contrasts." In addition to that, be sure to pepper your articles with the adjectives: “quaint,” “charming,” “rustic,” and “cute” to describe villages. And don’t forget the phrases “unspoiled gem,” “to die for,” “breathtaking view,” and a “visit to [fill in the blank destination] is not complete without…” Also, using the word “authentic” as much as possible is ALWAYS a good idea.

● Tell, don’t show. Sure, you could write something that tries to incorporate as many of the five senses as possible, such as: “As the morning sun began to beat down on us, we traipsed across the chunky cobblestones of the village’s only lane, flanked by half-timbered thatched-roof houses, and we could smell the morning’s first offerings from the village bakery.” But why, when you could just as easily write, “The village was quaint and charming”?

● In your conclusion, don’t worry about ending your piece with an effective jab or about making sure the ending captures the gist or the point of the story. Travel articles should end with a nice cliché: a vow to return, for example, never fails. Here’s an example from my own private cellar of bad travel writing, originally published in the travel section of the large daily newspaper: “…despite mixed results about the new Berlin, it seems that locals have created an infectious buzz about the city. I know I caught it, because as soon as I got to the airport, I started making plans to come back.”

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Don’t be discouraged on your journey to becoming a bad travel writer. If all else fails and you’re good looking and narcissistic enough, you can always become a travel influencer. That way, you could be illiterate and talentless and still be successful. Then again, if you have what it takes to become a travel influencer, your attention span would not have allowed you to read past the first three sentences of this article.