Preparation for my upcoming trip was littered with travel expectations and extensive, more like obsessive, planning. France owned me.
The kids made it clear they were over it.
“All you think about and talk about is France,” my oldest repeated, deservedly irritated with a lack of parental attention. “What will you do when you don’t have France anymore?”
A little obsessed with trip planning
For three months, I immersed myself in planning details and all the novel research ahead of me.
My days were spent learning French, surfing French websites, making appointments with French historians, booking tours, reading books, and packing — like 12 times!
With two weeks left until departure, I needed laser-sharp focus. I mapped out every moment of every day, and considered errors, jet lag, language barriers, and time. I acknowledged everything down to what would happen if I caught a cold. There were solutions in place for every possible problem — some included a detailed map and itinerary.
Ken referred to me as the Fort Knox of travel.
The day before I left, a little note popped up on my computer screen. Nothing profound. Merely a reminder sliding in while I worked away at my WIP.
That notification hit me like a brick and questions rushed in . . .
What if my plans didn’t work out? Will I find what I’m looking for? Would things go sideways on the first day and ruin the entire trip? Was my schedule too much? How about if I miss this or that?
Time to experience life, not control it.
This was my first solo research trip, and it became clear I hadn’t left room to experience it.
I promptly dumped my rigid itinerary, marked what I couldn’t miss, and hopped on the plane. I embraced the mindset that anything I faced over the next 14 days would be transformative.
I’ve tried to control nearly everything my whole life.
It was time to experience it all.
Approval from the universe
From that moment, the universe offered a nod of approval and set me on a path to discovery — one I could never have imagined. I went without expectations, trusting that I’d experience France in a way that stories blossom — taking shape without force.
France took me in, opened its soul, and left me a changed woman.
For the next several weeks, I’ll share tales of magic, time travel, serendipity, and the great confluence of modern-day life, alongside that of the Renaissance. It defined my French sojourn, deeply reshaped the story being told in Woman On The Wall, and brought me to a place at the edge of the veil where I found far more than details for my novel.
I can’t wait to share this experience with you.