“To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long romance,” said Oscar Wilde, but how do you acquire self-worth when you kind of sort of hate yourself? I’ve always regarded the prospect of self-love as seriously lame. But not just lame: the very thought of focusing one’s affections onto oneself was a bit nauseating. My religion […]
Torre DeRoche is the author of two travel memoirs, Love with a Chance of Drowning (2013) and The Worrier’s Guide to the End of the World (due out September 2017). She has written for The Atlantic, The Guardian Travel, The Sydney Morning Herald, Emirates, and two Lonely Planet anthologies.
Once upon a time, there was a healthy, professional Western woman in her 30’s who found herself in a major life crisis due to one terrifying fact: She was suddenly single.
It’s uncommon – especially in your thirties – to meet people who are willing to listen to the uncensored truth of your private suffering. Everyone is too busy trying to survive their own lives and families. People are more likely to take in lost dogs than lost people. They’re less trouble.
It was supposed to be every writer’s dream when a Hollywood film producer bought the option to adapt my memoir for the big screen. Love with a Chance of Drowning was due to publish in three months time but the love itself was drowning. Quickly. Painfully. Publicly.
Write the story of your own fearful adventure, and win a round-trip ticket to anywhere worth up to $1000!
Bangkok. You either love it or you hate it. Or, if you’re like me, you love it for about 30 minutes … and then you loathe it.
I’m bad at completing projects, so when I began writing a book, I feared it would end up frolicking with the dusty bunnies in the corner of my neglected projects room. This is how I found the determination to finish …
When we first started fooling around together, it was just a meaningless fling. But then things started getting serious between us, Book.
This week, I’ve turned October into Lovetober to bring you Love and Travel Week. Read stories and tips from traveling lovers …
Through the daiquiri haze a figure came toward me, his yellow briefs glowed, his bald head gleamed in the street light. Was that Hulk Hogan?