What Are Field Notes?

Field Notes are an evolution. I’ve used the phrase mainly to write about traveling, the little moments that stick with me, the ones that have crystallized in my mind as I’ve discovered a new—or often, old—city. Since a lot of my travels have coincided with a working story, Field Notes has been my personal check-in. It’s been both a diary and challenge to write in my own voice, weaving the words as I want. I need a place to put the sound in my head on a page, even if no one else hears it.

Writing requires both a rigidity and flexibility. If you write for a paycheck, then it’s a dance between master and performer. The writer needs to deliver the goods. She has to achieve the goal of translating desire into asset—but then also give that asset a distinctive glint. Too much shine is blinding; not enough is dull. Day in and day out, one side tends to win. It’s easy to lose the vision. The writer must have a place where she’s able to see through the dark.

And what is a Writer? How do you define one? It’s more than stringing together a few words. It’s beyond mere bylines. I think the best writers are the ones that tell you what you already know, you just didn’t realize that you knew it. They’ve somehow mined the air, the spirit of a thing, to sculpt crude forms of this fast-paced life and give you the space to land. To breathe. To be. It’s a moment of instant recognition.

I’ve written about a lot of topics, ever tempted by the lure of branding to make one thing my “lane.” But I can’t. I spot nuance too quickly. I catch hold of a slippery thread and grasp five more that trail off, each in their own direction. I want to follow them all.

Field Notes, yes, is about the physical places that I’ve been, but it’s also about the Greater Field, a place I keep discovering that encompasses a much deeper journey. It’s what holds all of these loose ends together, making sense of frayed cords along with tightly-bound weaves, finding the Made in the mess. And I’m taking note. Of where to go next.