Craving Lovely Books: Waking Tamara - Book Tour and Giveaway

Craving Lovely Books: Waking Tamara - Book Tour and Giveaway:  

Background ~ and so it begins...

 

Background

 

Maybe a bit of background is in order. I love to travel. As kids my parents would pile me and my two brothers in a station wagon. Yes, the one with the fake wood stickers and the rear facing seat. The seat we, of course, fought over. We’d climb over the middle seat and wage war until the losers slunk back to the middle seat in defeat. Not to blow my own horn, but I usually won. I’m the oldest, but I was also the meanest and had no problem fighting dirty, even at a young age. Being the only girl didn’t stop me.

I’d sit back there, occasionally slapping one of my brothers if they dared encroach in my air space. I believed in the sanctity of my air space surrounding me. I could catch the slightest breath in the wrong location. No boy cooties allowed! Now it’s called personal space. My brothers still suck about it and we’re all waving our fifties goodbye.

I digress. From my throne in the back of the station wagon, I watched the country go by. I don’t remember camping in anything but the pop-up, but I’m sure we did. My parents were so proud of that damned thing. We camped every year, travelling across the United States.

I remember brushing my teeth in rest areas, streams in National Parks and generally running free. I can truthfully say, I’ve run wild in almost every state of the union you can drive to. We stopped to drink from natural springs along the highways, admire the views from scenic view points and hide from bears in Yellowstone.

One thing I remember most is dad refusing to stop the car unless the car needed gas or someone was about to wet the seat. When we did, it was side of the road relief. My brothers had it easy. I had to find a way of perching without getting my clothes wet. It was the beginning of my hatred of camping, I’m sure.

Growing up, by the time I got into high school, I no longer went camping with my family. Instead, I would fly out to visit friends or family. Occasionally, I was allowed to stay home with minimal supervision. Either my great grandma, my grandpa or my aunt would stop by and make sure I was alive and fed. Obviously, I survived.

So now, I flew instead of camping. I still didn’t have to pay for a place to stay or food. Family and friends just sucked me into their lives as an almost adult.

Then, I grew up. I still loved to travel. I’ve been to Japan, China, Tasmania, Diego Garcia, Philippines, Hawaii and lived in Orlando, Florida and Southern California for a time. I regularly travelled up and down the Pacific Coast Highway in California.

My travelling only came with a minimal price. Five years of my life in the United States Navy. I would never, ever change that. Some of my best times as a young adult were in service to Uncle Sam. I made lifelong friends and it encouraged my wanderlust.

A few years later, life changed again. Married with children didn’t stop us from travelling. We regularly made the trip from Wisconsin to California, in a Geo Metro. Great on gas, not so much on space. Many were the night we slept in it on our way across the country. We’d arrive at our destination tired, hungry and needing showers. We could make the thirty-hour trip in less than forty-eight hours. But it definitely took a toll on us all. But even saving on hotels didn’t change the fact that we had to eat.

We’d pick a destination for the night. I was on hotels.com, expedia, priceline, booking.com, and kayak checking out who had the best deals for a hotel or motel that night. Oh, and don’t forget the hotel and travel magazines you could find at the rest areas. They usually had some of the best deals. I had woefully low standards, though. The all mighty buck and a vacation budget helped steer my choices.

I always got a hotel with some type of breakfast. A ten-dollar higher price for the room was worth not spending another twenty dollars on breakfast and having to eat while we drove. Then, consider lunch and dinner. We easily could spend thirty to fifty dollars on food and did. Sometimes the only thing open were fast food restaurants while we travelled to our destination. The kids didn’t mind. It was a treat to them.

A fourteen-day trip, twelve in hotels, plus two to three meals a day for four people was around eighteen hundred dollars. That was without tickets to amusement parks, museums, entertainment, and parking costs. If we managed a vacation under three thousand dollars, I’d be shocked. We usually went on at least one vacations a year. Sometimes more.

The worst part? Eating out upset my stomach. Nor did I sleep well even in the priciest hotel.

I started thinking that maybe camping wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Maybe.

But, I needed to make sure. It was time for research! I had a round figure of how much we spent on vacations. Could a camper really save me money? It was a major concern. Not to mention retirement loomed ever closer.

So, I started delving into the world of campers.

Did I have any clue on what I wanted? Well, not really. I knew what I didn’t want.

No popup camper due to the night mosquitos nearly ate us alive as a child. No tents. As an adult, I didn’t want to fall asleep or wake up on the ground.

So, what do I do now?

Happy Valentine's Day

 Hope you all share the love today!

I'm working more on my book. Still haven't settled on a name. 

Working title: So, you want to buy an RV?

Subtitle: My journey to find the perfect RV for ME

Another suggestion was: To RV or not to RV

My camping obsession has me purchasing all the Lego campers, lol.

In class we did a mind map project. This mess is mine!

This really seemed to help. As you can see, I'm totally at the beginning of the book. BUT, this will help me remember what I wanted in it. Not all of these will be used, and some maybe combined.

Buying my RV was a crazy adventure!

A new book idea

 I'm fiddling around with a writing a book. A non romance book. Here is the first draft of the introduction. Let me know what you think!

So, you want to buy an RV? (working title)

My journey to find the perfect RV for me.

The thought of camping made me cringe. Trauma from multiple family vacations rolled through me at the thought. My scalp prickled at just the idea of falling asleep and being feasted on by mosquitos.

BUT, I loved to travel. And I did. BUT, it was expensive.

Cheaper motels woke me up scratching as much as those long remembered mosquitos. The more reasonable but slightly pricier ones drained my wallet.

The thought of monotonous fast-food restaurants churned my belly. On one trip we ate only at Arby’s for two days straight. Nor is it cheap. Vacations were a hemorrhage on my finances. BUT, they lifted my soul.

I knew I had to face my fears, tear apart the trauma. Forget how I can still pee on the side of the road without getting my panties wet. Thanks, dad.

I needed a camper.

Oh god, could I survive this?

I refused to tell my family. They would never believe me. I had made my hatred of camping well known. I wasn’t going to let them laugh at me now. Despite their knowledge and experience, I refused to open that bag.

I can tell you what I didn’t want. No tent, hell no. I’m not sleeping on the ground. No pop up. My skin crawled at the thought. The long ago remembered night of slapping at mosquitos that made their way through the edges of the canvas was something I couldn’t face again.

So, it had to have metal walls and wheels. Comfy beds, a bathroom. I needed a Glamper, lol.

Thus began my journey to find the perfect camper for me. Oh, and my husband. Maybe a kid or two. Possibly their families. (They are adults)

Eh, maybe just me and my husband. And the granddaughter. We like her.

The year long journey was an adventure in itself.

Here’s how I did it.