Lily Writes

Humpbacks and Hero: A Writer’s Journey

I didn’t mean to start the next manuscript yet. Truly. The plan was to take two weeks off—because, let’s be honest, writing while juggling planes, ships, buses, trains, and walking tours is no easy feat. But when the characters start talking, I can’t exactly tell them to wait.

This week finds me in Iceland—my first trip here, though I know it won’t be my last. We chose a circumnavigating cruise, stopping at ports and wandering inland to discover more of this extraordinary land, its people, and its stories.

Travel has always been one of my best creative catalysts. The mix of experiences—watching, listening, talking, jotting scraps of dialogue or faces or gestures—feeds the stew of character and story in ways nothing else can.

And Iceland delivers inspiration in spades.

In Reykjavik, we went whale watching and watched humpbacks breach against a backdrop of storm clouds, sudden shafts of sun, and rainbows flaring on the horizon. The drama of it all made me want to bottle the sky.

In Ísafjörður, another wildlife excursion surrounded us with more than thirty humpbacks feeding, diving, and blowing all around us. Cold rain, gray skies, rough seas—perfect whale weather. The puffins had already left for the season, which disappointed me briefly. But honestly—so many whales. How could I stay disappointed for long?

It reminded me of the first time I read Moby-Dick. Whale hunting itself horrifies me, but Melville’s words—his sheer force of description, the humanity woven through Queequeg, Ishmael, and all the rest—stopped me in my tracks. That book taught me what writing could do: how words could outlast lifetimes. Good writers never die; they echo.

I don’t expect my own stories to live forever like Melville’s. But I do hope my characters linger with readers—real enough that someone thinks of them after closing the book, wondering what they’re doing, what comes next.

Right now, Valen “Cere” Thorne and Era Walker—my leads in Hero—are already alive and growing louder in my head, their story stretching branches, putting down roots. I can feel it taking shape.

I love writing. Almost as much as I love travel. And the truth is—both feed each other.