I’m obsessed with being outside. I love hiking, biking, kayaking, camping, snowshoeing, and about a dozen other pursuits I adore primarily because I get to be outdoors when I do them.
In the warmer months, I eat outside every chance I get, and I’m constantly taking my dog for long hikes as an excuse to brainstorm plots.
My home office is right by the front door, and unless there’s a blizzard in progress, I like to write with the door thrown wide open. True, I end up with bugs, cats, lizards, and the occasional confused salesman in my house, but it’s a small price to pay for fresh air and the sound of chirping birds.
When I’m not busy writing funny smut romantic comedy, I spend three days a week managing marketing/PR for my city’s tourism bureau.
That’s a fancy way of saying I get paid to do things like take journalists snowshoeing or hike the Oregon Badlands Wilderness. My town is a popular tourist spot that’s often dubbed, “the outdoor playground of the west.” Basically, everyone else’s vacation my day-to-day routine.
Whenever I travel to big cities, I find myself getting claustrophobic. I look up at the skyscrapers and have a sudden urge to find the closest tree and climb it.
For the record, that’s an excellent way to get arrested.
Do you share my love of the great outdoors, or does your fondness for nature extend only as far as having a fern on your desk? Please share!
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