When I wrote No, I Won't Buy You a Drink!, I made a conscious decision.
I wasn't trying to write the most literary travel memoir ever published.
I wasn't trying to impress readers with descriptions, vocabulary, or clever turns of phrase.
I was trying to communicate.
One of the recurring ideas in my book is the concept of packaging - the ways people, organisations, and even ideas present themselves to appear more attractive, important, or valuable than they really are.
As I travelled through Europe, North America, the Caribbean, and beyond, I noticed that packaging often got in the way of understanding. People became harder to know because they were busy presenting themselves. Conversations became harder to trust because everyone seemed to be performing.
I didn't want to do the same thing with my writing.
There are thousands of books that can describe the Eiffel Tower more beautifully than I ever could. There are countless travel writers who can spend pages capturing the colour of a sunset, the architecture of a city, or the atmosphere of a famous landmark.
Many readers enjoy that, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with it.
But it wasn't what interested me.
I wasn't travelling to look at buildings. I was travelling to understand people.
The most important things I encountered weren't landmarks. They were conversations. Misunderstandings. Friendships. Illness. Risk. Generosity. Loneliness. The strange and often confusing ways people connect with one another.
If I spent three pages describing a cathedral but ignored the person standing beside me, I felt I would be packaging the journey rather than sharing it.
So I made a deliberate choice to keep the focus on people.
Some readers will wish there was more description and more literary detail. That's perfectly fair.
But I suspect there are also many people who don't read very often because books can sometimes feel over-packaged. Simple ideas become complicated. Ordinary experiences are dressed up to sound extraordinary. Readers are asked to admire the writing before they are allowed to experience the story.
I wanted the opposite.
I wanted the writing to feel like a conversation with someone sitting across the table.
No performance.
No unnecessary decoration.
No pretending that every moment was profound.
Just an honest account of what happened, what I observed, and what I learned along the way.
Because in the end, I wasn't interested in describing the world.
I was interested in understanding it.