Epic Quests Begin with Leaving the Living Room

Hello magical friends!

The Writer's Paradox: Creating Adventures from the Couch

This week I was determined, as usual, to get out more. The thing is, it's harder to write about characters embarking on epic quests when you're loathe to leave your own living room. Running to Trader Joes for ice cream is not the same thing as porting to another dimension. Usually.

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The struggle is real, even when I'm not in the middle of turning a novel.

It's understandable. I can't even be down on myself about it. The beach house is so lovely, and I feel so fortunate to live here that I don't want to go anywhere. Like, even out to dinner—I'd rather have takeout in my own backyard! Plus I have a really vivid imagination. It carries me quite far.

However, it isn't healthy (I'm told) to stay home at all times, so this weekend my husband launched a campaign to convince me to hop on our e-trikes and embark on an adventure. And by adventure, I mean he wanted me to take my laptop to a cafe about four miles away and write there instead of on the couch.

Checking my maps, I saw it would take half an hour each way, which would take a healthy bite out of my planned program of couch potato productivity. I hemmed. And hawed. However, I could also see the steely look in his eyes—the one that screamed "Come on woman, you made me buy these bikes, you're not gonna cop out on me now, are you?"

The Great Intersection Battle

Remember when I mentioned getting more confident on the e-trike? Well I am, but not in traffic. The fastest route to said cafe (24 minutes as opposed to 31) involved a tricky intersection. But if there's anything that steels my courage, it's the lure of a sneaky shortcut.

"Fine," I agreed. "Quest on. Let's do it."

Friends, this is how I found myself parked in the middle of that big scary intersection ten minutes later, being taunted by stinking trolls and fearful for my mortal existence.

It all started when some (insert expletive of choice here) driver rolled up behind me, horns blazing, yelling admonishments at me for daring to wait in the left turn lane to actually turn left and reach the bike lane on the other side. Trust me, there was no alternative for us here. The street has no bike lanes or other places/ways to make that turn. I was stuck between a freeway entrance and a hard place, and that dude? Well he was in a hurry to get across the street to Costco before they ran out of hot dogs.

Naturally, I lost all ability to distinguish between my bike's throttle and the kill switch in that tense moment. I smashed both both at the same time. My bike seized up. I dismounted in shame.

It was my dig deep moment. Time to face the oncoming dragons, if not the oncoming traffic. As the light was still red, I calmly walked the bike to the traffic island on the other side. I could hear my invisible fans cheering from the stands. I pumped one fist in victory. Then I held up two fingers in the "itty bitty" position and shook it at the tool in the pickup truck who honked at me.

From the island, a fairly accessible crosswalk led us to the bike lane, and eventually we reached the cafe. Some shortcut. It definitely took longer than 24 minutes.

Needless to say, we took the long way home. The longer route was ninety-nine percent trail, rolled right along the beach and will be my path of choice in the future. If I ever decide to risk leaving home again.

The Reward for Leaving Home

Here's the thing: although I'm always slow to go, I'm also always glad I went. I spent the afternoon writing at Hidden House Coffee shop, across from the train station in San Juan Capistrano. It's a gem on the historic and haunted Los Rios Street, surrounded by cafes and little shops buzzing with tourists and families. I parked myself in the shade beneath a massive Chinese elm and got back to work polishing The Magpie Oracle of Sense and Serendipity.