Hey there Reader!

Not long ago, I found myself in a Nicaraguan village that doesn’t exist on Google Maps.

No GPS coordinates. No labeled roads. Just a trail of word-of-mouth directions and a borrowed Land Rover rumbling over dirt roads, through rivers, and deeper into the hills.

Eventually, we got there.

The town reminded me of Macondo—the fictional village in One Hundred Years of Solitude. Streets of mud, stone, and scattered trash. Pigs, dogs, and chickens wandering wherever they pleased. Vultures perched on empty walls.

The people welcomed us with gold-toothed smiles and faces weathered by life in the campo. There’s no running water—except when it rains. When it does, the streets turn to streams, and mothers use the flowing gutters to wash clothes and kids at the same time.

The whole place is green and damp and wild. The jungle constantly tries to take it all back, and the men keep it bay with machetes. And yet, in the middle of all this, people dressed up. Pressed shirts. Puffy dresses. There was a quinceañera that day—a celebration full of life, color, and community. The fancy clothes clashing with the mud.

I learned a lot on this short visit. But more than anything, I was reminded that good writing doesn’t always happen behind a desk. You have to get out there and live. Stories come from paying attention, from walking unfamiliar roads, from stepping into places that make you look twice.

This village will find its way into something I write eventually. I don’t know how or when—but I’ll know it when it shows up.

Glad to have you along for the journey!

Until next time,
—Jason

P.S.​
Ever visit a place that stayed with you longer than you expected? I’d love to hear about it—just hit reply.

Also, A bunch of authors (myself included) have come together to build a massive giveaway of fantasy and sci-fi ebooks.

With over 80 authors participating, you're bound to find one that catches your interest. Check them—click the image below:

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