Travel Blog

Most writers prefer writing to speaking; a good number went into writing partly to avoid speaking. Writing is solitary work for solitary people. Also, while in the act of writing you’re in control, as you rarely are in life, which includes the ability to make revisions. With written words, you can take back what you said and change it to something different, without anyone ever knowing your first, flawed thought.

Over the years, though, I’ve gotten to enjoy public speaking, so much so that at readings I sometimes just talk. (“Never read at a reading,” Julian Barnes once advised a friend. “People would rather hear what you had for breakfast.”) Seemingly extemporaneous words – coming out now, here – sound more intimate to your audience than well-crafted ones that have been printed on a page. And talking, you can establish eye contact with people better than when your head’s in your book. Also, my most recent book, The Joys of Travel, lends itself to an entertaining summary in a way that an evocative work of fiction might not.

My one quirk with regard to public speaking is that I prefer to do it in front of strangers. An auditorium filled with people I’ve never seen before doesn’t rattle me the way a room populated with friends and acquaintances does. When you stand before a crowd of people who know you – your weaknesses and limitations – it’s harder to play the part of the august author.

So for my talk this past Friday, at an invitation-only event at Grind Coffee Project, I decided to intersperse my talk with readings. I wanted to have words written down that I could fall back on if my speech got shaky.

It was a difficult venue, a workspace crowded with people – friends – sitting and standing at various angles. There was no lectern to give me cover (and authority); I just staked out a spot in one corner of the room. And there was no microphone, so I had to speak in an unnaturally loud and carrying voice.

The first excerpt I read was about the joys of train travel (from the chapter on “movement”). I had chosen it, I said, because the coffeehouse sat along the FEC tracks. In fact, I noted that a Brightline train could come along at any moment.

I then spoke about the other joys of travel, reading excerpts about “novelty” and “emotional connection.” To end my presentation, I read the first page of one of the stories in the back – about an author giving readings – and as I launched into the last line a train whistle blew.