My bookshelf is filled with travel writing. I got hooked on the genre a couple of years ago because of my love for reading and, at the time, the fact that I felt like I wasn’t travelling enough. Those books transported me to places I couldn’t visit myself just yet, and added several countries to my travel wish-list.

Most of them are, however, unsatisfactory books, and the only reason I read (most of) them to the end is because I craved those country glimpses as if they were the very air I breathe.

Bill Bryson is a great writer, and I love ‘Down Under’, but after the umpteenth town whose charms appeal to me as much as a vomit museum, I’m ready to fall into a boredom coma. Plus, the guy almost never speaks to anyone, lest an interesting conversation distract him from the width of a lane or the temperature of his beer. Paul Theroux is more of a journalist, not a writer. His prose is too heavy and he goes around frantically writing down everything everyone says. If I met the guy and he did that to me, I’d slap him and see if he’d also write that down. If he did, I’d make him swallow his pen, but I’m sure he’d then bite a piece of his finger off and continue writing with his own blood. And then, of course, there is Elizabeth Gilbert.  I do sympathise with the poor woman about crying on the bathroom floor and all, and I can see why some women find her inspirational, but the journey of ‘self-discovery’ she undertakes is paid by a generous book advance and, for god’s sake, instead of going out and exploring India, she chooses to bore me to death with her meditation theory summary (unless of course, you like that sort of thing). But what I hate most about these books is the fact that the authors set out on their journey specifically so as to get material for a book, but a story in the traditional sense of the word never magically materialises, and the books suffer for it, no matter how exotic or well-described the places visited are. And then there are those books written by people who have done something remarkable, or even extraordinary travel-wise, but who couldn’t be considered writers in a zillion light year.

But, you might be asking yourself, what does all this have to do with your review? It has everything to do with it, and here’s why. Torre DeRoche’s book is the best travel memoir I have ever read, hands down, and in my humble opinion, it deserves to become the next big book in the travel writing community. I wish I could wipe my memory clean just so I could start reading the book again with a fresh mind.

Torre DeRoche is first and foremost a writer. She weaves descriptions with the elegance of a swan landing softly on a still lake. Her writing seems effortless, but it’s obvious that a lot of work and thought is behind it. Added to that, Torre has a wonderful tale to tell, and it’s refreshing to know that it was a story before it was a book. Swept is also a story which is so easy to relate to. It’s not a about how some explorer visited Antarctica on a bicycle or about someone who decided to indulge his very masochistic desire to walk the length of a continent and gets the kicks out of the possibility of being kidnapped. It’s the story of how a regular woman, just like you and me, riddled with fears, yes, once again just like you and me, embarks on a sailing journey from the US down to the vast pacific ocean even though she is extremely seasick and scared, all in order to be with the man she loves. (I’m crappy at summarising plots. For a proper synopsis, click here). Now I can relate to that.

I read Swept, slowly, savouring every word and lingering on its descriptions. It’s refreshing to come across a writer who writes with her own voice instead of resorting to the travel cliches we’re all so tired of. While reading the book I smiled, laughed, felt my heart ache and my stomach churn. I thought to myself ‘Why is she doing this to herself???’, then, a moment after, I felt her own endless satisfaction as she reached another gorgeous island or witnessed yet another memorable sunset. But really, I could go on and on about this book, about how, if you don’t read it, a fairy will lose its wings, but I won’t, because you really need to see for yourself to understand why I speak so highly of it.

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And when I finished the book, I couldn’t help myself. I asked Torre if she’d give an interview here on The Art of Slow Travel, and she agreed. Here it is…

Thank you! When I was sailing, I wrote a blog to update family and friends. My parents hadn’t met Ivan—the man I was sailing an ocean with—so I wanted to let my poor mother know I was okay. Mum has a wacky sense of humour, so I’d write her stupid stories about men in g-strings and Ivan’s latest injury. Turns out, other people enjoyed reading it too.

When the trip was over, I began writing in my spare time to get the story on paper. Sailing was quite lonely at times and I missed home a lot. To me, telling the story was my way of bringing people along on the journey. When I reached about 30,000 words, I realised I was writing a book.

I read Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods when I was about 14 and I’ve been in love with his style ever since. I look for inspiration from a mix of writers. I read a lot of humour writers like David Sedaris, Augusten Burroughs and an Australian columnist named Danny Katz. I adore offbeat humour or a nail-biting dilemma that engages the reader until the final pages.

I’m a serious procrastinator too! This story wanted to be told and I couldn’t do much to stop it from coming out. If I had a tip for you, it’d be this: give yourself some time and space to write every day. If you sit down and put your fingers to the keys, words will follow. Editing and fine-tuning requires a lot more knuckle-down motivation, but there’s a momentum that comes naturally once you’ve reached a certain tipping point—around 50,000 words. You don’t want to thwart the whole project with laziness once you’ve written half a book. So give yourself time and space to write 50,000 words, and it’ll gain its own momentum.

I was reading Water for Elephants when I was half way through my book and I was taken by Sara Gruen’s style and her use of present tense. I had an ah-ha! moment when I realised I could make my book read just like fiction to tell a fast-paced story. I sat down to play and discovered that, if I wrote in present tense, the story came to life. I started again from page one.

My blog and my letters home were like a journal to me. When I started writing the book, I printed out everything I could find: emails, blog posts, unpublished blog posts and I referenced them to write the first draft.

At one point, my manuscript was 130,000 words long! I cut it back to 89,000 as that’s the industry-standard length for a memoir. It was difficult to cut anecdotes, but everything that stalled the momentum got cut. I wanted it to be fast-paced.

I believe that cutting it back made the book stronger and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with leaving the reader feeling like they want more. (I may publish some of the cut scenes on my blog.)

I’ll definitelydo more travel writing, and I may also try writing fiction at some point. I have a story in my head that I want to play out on the page.

I get very confused when people ask me what I do for a living. I usually say something like, ”Er … sometimes I’m a graphic designer, but I’ve just written a book and … Hey! What’s that over there!” *Takes off running*