Wanderlust and Writing

When I first started sharing my words online, I went through several name changes. First, it was A Mom Finding Joy, but that didn’t feel quite right. Then, Charley Finding Joy, but again, something was off. I kept adjusting, trying to capture what exactly I was doing through sharing my words, expressing my thoughts, refusing to be just one thing.

I landed on The Wanderlust Threader, but it still felt clunky. It worked for a while, did its job, but as I navigated my writing identity in Spain and after coming back to San Diego, I realized one day that Wanderlust Narratives just made more sense. The threading metaphor implied I was stitching pieces of myself together, but that was antithetical to what I was actually trying to do. The intention was never to fragment myself, but to approach everything I do as a whole person. However, I very well may change it, let's be real. That's who I am, but for now, this sticks.

Because for me, this looks like traveling and documenting stories through street art photography.

Or, working with students on equitable educational practices, or vulnerably writing poetic words I’m often too anxious to express aloud. It is also imagining possibilities or sharing critiques of society through fictional short stories. Sometimes it’s exploring a light novel about ravens that interact with a young girl and help change the world. Whatever pops into my head, whatever I want to share, I want to capture it, write it, and help people feel a connection with the work I do.

Realistically, by traditional definition, we know wanderlust as a deep love of travel. But after living in Spain and traveling through Europe for almost two weeks, I realized that wanderlust, as I define it, meant something more than physical movement. For me, it’s a philosophical crossing of boundaries and lines, the kind social scientists and academics are often prevented from doing, or advised against, ultimately resulting in a fragmentation of ourselves.

I realized the philosophical underpinnings of who I am are what make me, me. This is why I see words on a wall as public pedagogy. Why a photograph captures not just a moment in time, but untold stories buried in archives. Why my research and my fiction and my photography aren’t separate, but instead, they’re all wandering, all narratives, of the world around us.

As of today, I'm approaching 9 days of writing in a row, and I'm feeling this wanderlust again, both by traditional definitions and my own. My goal is simple... it's really to just write. Sometimes I pull up notes on my phone and write several sentences while lying in bed. Other days, I sit at my computer brainstorming what happens next in the short story I'm submitting to a literary magazine, scribbling ideas into a notebook, then transposing them onto the screen.

Watching Doctor Who with my son today, I was reminded of this again. When the Doctor regenerates from Christopher Eccleston to David Tennant, after Rose Tyler has seen Bad Wolf scribbled everywhere, David Tennant says something I hadn't caught until last night: "Hello! Okay, ooh. New teeth. That's weird. So, where was I? Oh, that's right. Barcelona!" Barcelona, of course, is in Spain.

And this struck me as fascinating and gave me a chuckle because it circled back to something from our second week in Spain. When we visited the flat we'd eventually call home, scribbled on the wall across from the churrería, Tejerinos, we would later frequent, right there in black spray paint, Bad Wolf. I hadn’t caught the Barcelona reference, of course, the first time I watched the episode, and quite frankly, Spain wasn’t relevant to me at the time. It was, perhaps a sign, that we were right where we were supposed to be. We loved that flat, that neighborhood, and it was absolutely home.

Bad Wolf spray-painted in Málaga, Spain

With that said, there are several important things about this. First, my son chose this episode to watch, unprompted, after years of not watching Doctor Who. Second, Bad Wolf says, "I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself. I take the words. I scatter them in time and space. A message to lead myself here." This felt significant in March when I first wrote about it (What We Should Do), but it feels even more significant now.

I’m not sure I believe in signs. I am a social scientist, but I also know that human experiences are vast and unique, and I’m influenced by multiple things in my own personal and cultural life, and I recognize other experiences too. So whatever I believe, I have chosen to take this as a reminder of the ways I wrote in Spain. And wrote. And wrote more.

I published two book chapters, refining them, sharing them, pouring my words out onto a document, sharing about snaps of kimchi or recipe cards as potions in a classroom, sending them off, receiving amazingly positive feedback, and in this way, this all acted as validation that I was on the right track. Unfortunately, these chapters are not valued in academia quite the same way as peer-reviewed articles, but then I ask myself: for whom am I writing, anyway? Yes, scientific work is necessary, valuable, and I truly do value science. But what good is the work we do if we are not showing up as ourselves, as our whole selves, allowing for creativity or unique blends of humanities and sciences? Or if we are not making it accessible to those whose experiences we are trying to represent, work with, and share?

I received my PhD in May 2023. I had hoped I would have landed more than the one tenure-track interview I had had in that time. It can be incredibly defeating, and we often wrap our value up in our careers. I still aspire for a tenure-track role, as it does provide more stability. I have several article submissions under review, I engage in community work, I support my students and mentor them, I have stellar teaching evaluations, but I also do not fit neatly into a niche. I have never been able to, and I’m not sure I can start now as I approach my 38th birthday.

Graduation day with the PhD, May 2023

The wanderlust is real and it's relentless most days. Some days, I dream of opening a bakery, while other days, I consider getting a law degree. I look at academic jobs in Ireland, Japan, South Korea, Finland, Mexico, and Spain (though I have been actively applying to these jobs, so that’s not outside the realm of possibilities, really.) I sometimes imagine traveling full-time, living out of a suitcase, documenting the world through photography, but realizing that’s not realistic with kiddos, though what a cool adventure that would be for all of us (minus the instability, of course).

The restlessness never stops, ever. My advisor had said to me once, “Charlene, I think you are one of the most restless people I have ever met.” She wasn’t wrong at all. But I always come back to storytelling. Whether it's through research, teaching, photography, poetry, or fiction, I come back to narratives, to capturing human experience and sharing it; that's the constant beneath the wandering.

So I'm not choosing one path over another. That's antithetical to who I am. I will keep teaching, keep applying to roles that feel right. I will keep doing academic work that matters. But I will also write fiction. I will submit to literary magazines. I will pursue the dream I've had since 7th grade. Fiction and literary magazines may not land me the "dream jobs" of tenure-track, but they will help feed my soul.

Nine days of writing in a row today with two short stories in progress, resulting in aspiring literary magazine submissions. Meanwhile, the book chapters are published, I’m mentoring students, and grading (so much grading.) The restlessness continues, but so does the storytelling, each session, whether it’s 50 words in one day or 1,000. I may not be successful for the rest of the year, but for now, I am striving to do this.

But, either way, as Rose Tyler/Bad Wolf says, I create myself. I take the words. I scatter them in time and space.

Here's to ending 2025 and entering 2026 as I wander while writing it down.

**If you'd like to support my pursuit of becoming a published fiction author, you can also buy me a coffee: ko-fi.com/wanderlustnarratives ☕