I've visited so many countries and continents in the past few months, I should have the world's worst case of jet lag. Instead, I'm only itching for more. More travel! More, more, more! This is likely because I did most of my wandering from an apartment in San Francisco.
I only physically traveled to three places this fall: Kentucky, Tunisia, and Sicily. (I know: who the hell is my travel agent?) But in my head, I've landed in India at least two dozen times. I've crisscrossed Africa, North and South America, Asia, Australia, New Zealand, and the Middle East. I've been to Haiti, Iraq, Cuba, Bhutan, Pakistan, North Korea. And I've been all over Europe. I mean all over it.
I'm editing The Best Women's Travel Writing 2011, and though I read most of these submissions--approximately 300--from the comfort of my couch in California, the result is that I feel extremely well traveled.
This is the unique magic of reading about travel. It transports me, revs me up, triggers whatever chemical it is that's linked to wanderlust. Is it one of those same chemicals released when we fall in love? Sure feels like it.
Reading the stories has been pure pleasure, but selecting those that will be included is one of the most difficult tasks I've ever tackled--and one of the most rewarding. It's not quite over yet (if your story is accepted for inclusion, you will hear from the publishers, Travelers' Tales, with a contract), but whatever happens and whichever stories are included in the anthology, I'll tell you this: every story I've read has affected me, changed me. My internal passport has been stamped and stamped and stamped.
A heartfelt thank-you to all of you incredible, inspiring women who submitted your stories of the road. Thank you for keeping the women's travel-writing fire crackling, and thank you for taking me with you.
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