I’ve been doing something new for the past month. It started because I watched this video from Peter McKinnon, who saw an Instagram post from John Grimsmo, who probably got it from a book on habits and/or productivity (my money’s on Atomic Habits, by James Clear). So you can see the line of progression can get pretty long for this sort of thing, but the fact is a good idea is a good idea, no matter how long it takes to get to you.

And this idea is pretty simple: Use a journal to write down your critical tasks every day.

Simple, yes. But I’ll confess, for years this idea was something I balked at. And it’s probably down to me not being big on “commitments.” Typical, right? But the thought of scheduling every minute of my day, instead of being able to freeform through it, always bothered me.

Of course, freeforming your way through every day has its downsides, too. For a start, if you don’t have any sort of schedule or plan, then you day tends to get soaked up by unimportant tasks. And for some people (I’m definitely one of these), when your day is filled with the unimportant, and you can see that there are important tasks piling up, well that just creates stress. It creates that feeling of “overwhelm.” It creates anxiety.

I’ve suffered from anxiety for the past few years. It’s relatively new in my life, but it’s definitely there. It started when I was in a job that I was… ok, I admit it, I was blowing this gig off. I was reporting in, doing the bare minimum, and taking home a paycheck. I was… (God I hate admitting this)… a slacker.

Oy.

I, the person who prides himself on his work ethic, who does everything possible to keep all the plates spinning, and even pick up the broken plates that drop and glue them back together so he can start spinning them again—I was slacking off.

It’s so humiliating.

But it’s worse than that. While I was screwing around and collecting a check for basically nothing, I started to feel something. It took awhile to realize what that something was, but when it hit me it hit me hard.

I felt guilty.

I have traced my anxiety back to that exact moment in time, and I realize that unequivocally that is the beginning, the start, the apex of it all. Before that time in my life I may have felt the occasional dread and the momentary panic of anxiety, but it was fleeting. It passed, leaving me to live a more or less even and unfettered life. But then, suddenly, things changed. I went from being blasé about everything to being genuinely and horrifically worried about it all. I worried about my income, my workload, my reputation, my future. All of it. All of the time.

That was also, I believe, the moment when I realized that I had to have a strong work ethic. That I could not cheat those who were paying me for my work. Not without consequences.

I live with those consequences even now. And they manifest in freakish, weird ways.

For a start, that guilt I felt? I feel it all the time now. When I’m not working on something. When I am working on something. When I’m working on something and I should probably be working on something else. When I’m working on the task I’m supposed to be doing.

Paid work or unpaid work. Professional work or personal work. During working ours or during free time. Guilt. Always guilt. Always anxiety.

I’m experimenting and testing and trying things, in an attempt to overcome that. And part of the process is figuring out exactly what triggers the feeling, so I can work out how to mitigate or eliminate it.

There’s a lot to explore there, and I don’t have time to do all of it in this one post. But what I can tell you is that part of the issue for me is basically “scope creep.”

If you’re unfamiliar with the term, it essentially means that you can get overloaded by essential tasks, to the point of paralyzing your efforts altogether. In other words, when you have a project or task to complete, the sub tasks sometimes get so numerous and weighty that they derail you, and you finish nothing. Or, in my case, you feel guilty even as you somehow manage to get everything done.

You end up regretting and feeling anxious about the things you didn’t do, even if the list of to-dos is unwieldy and unreasonable.

Maybe you can relate.

As an author, task creep is a huge part of my daily life. Because frankly, there are just more things I could be doing to push my career forward, and a lot of them start to feel like things I should be doing.

The same is true for my role as Director of Marketing for Draft2Digital. I have lists and lists of things that we could and should be doing as a brand, and almost all of them require a ton of time to develop and implement. Everything from recording live streams to editing podcasts to recording and editing videos to writing blog posts to writing books on behalf of the company to writing emails and social media posts to doing interviews to organizing and planning and attending and speaking at conferences… GAHHHH!

But hey, that’s life, right? Every day is the firehose. There will always be more to do.

Open wide.

So having anxiety about all of it makes everything that much more challenging. And since I can’t really control the volume of work I have on my plate, I have to look at ways to at least tamp down that anxiety over it. One of those ways is to prioritize, and put “first things first.”

This isn’t a new idea. In fact, I first encountered it in the same place most people do, which was Stephen Covey’s 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. It’s actually Habit 3 in that book. A classic.

There are a lot of ways to put that habit into practice, including using Covey’s tips for a “priority matrix.” They’re tried and true, and they work. But I’ve always been fond of lists. So lists tend to be the best approach for me (to be fair, I haven’t giving the whole matrix thing a fair shake yet—maybe I’ll try that out and report back).

So the thing I like about making a Critical Task list is that it can be a mix of the different silos of my life. I can have tasks that are centered on Draft2Digital, on my writing career, and on my personal life, and they each get their own priority. I like that. I also like that I get to use a journal for the process. I’m a big fan of journals, and I’ve secretly felt like I never use them properly. Another one of those weird hangups I have.

When I watched Peter’s video on this, he seemed to resonate with the whole journal idea, too. And he gave some reasons why he feels it’s better to put these lists down on actual paper with an actual writing implement, rather than use something digital like the Reminders app on your phone.

For a start, writing things down by hand does something different in your brain than tapping it onto the screen of your phone. It engages a different set of skills. And research shows that physically writing something down often makes the memory of it more “sticky.”

It also takes you out of your usual environment. Chances are you spend a fair amount of time staring at screens. I know I do. So being able to write something by hand makes it novel and unique. It makes it special.

I keep a bunch of Moleskine notebooks around. I have for years. I’ve kept them as daily journals for a very long time. Even when I fall out of the habit, I always eventually come back and pick up where I left off. These days journaling is one of my “first tasks.” I do it first thing in the morning, to start my day, and I feel out of sorts when I don’t make the time.

One of the Moleskines I’ve carried with me since the beginning of the year is a little “special.” It’s not meant to be a journal, per se. It’s more of an inbox for ideas, a place to sketch something I see in the world, a page I can fill with quotes or slogans I want to put on T-shirts, that kind of thing. I found that I wasn’t quite using it as much as I’d anticipated, though. So when this idea of jotting down critical tasks came along, I repurposed that notebook… slightly.

Here’s where things get interesting (for me, at least… your mileage may vary!).

Taking Peter and John’s advice, I started jotting down my critical tasks for each day. I made this 5 Critical Tasks—thinking that would make for a reasonable number of things that I absolutely must accomplish with my day. Five tasks, and they’re a mix of author, D2D, and personal priorities.

One thing I’ve done for years—and it’s something I utterly rely on—is put tasks on my calendar. “If it isn’t on the calendar, it doesn’t exist.” That’s always been my motto. And it works very well. I put everything on the calendar, and everything ends up getting done.

It just doesn’t always get done on the specific day where I put it.

Remember when we talked about task creep? This is where that starts. I go through my week with a flurry of tasks swarming into my brain, and to keep myself from losing any of them I drop them on the calendar. I try to pick the days I think I’d be most likely to be able to get them done, but more often than not I just end up having to move them to a different day. Which means they aren’t done that day. Which means (you guessed it) I feel guilty for not doing my work.

[Anxity arises. Lingers. Buys lawn chairs. Starts thinking about painting the walls.]

That has always bothered me, but if you really stop to think about it, what’s actually wrong with that approach? If I put something on the calendar for Tuesday, but Tuesday happens to get very busy, or one of my tasks happens to take longer than anticipated, what’s actually wrong with moving that task to Wednesday? And in fact, if Wednesday is already full, what’s actually wrong with moving the task to Thursday instead?

The answer is “nothing is actually wrong with it.” But that’s why anxiety is such an ordeal. Because logic has nothing to do with it.

I can reason that I’m doing the right thing, and doing nothing wrong. I can agree to it. But something, somewhere inside of me, isn’t having it. Some part of me still thinks I’m screwing off. WORK HARDER, TUMLINSON.

You starting to see how I write a half dozen books each year? As a boss, I’m a slave driver.

So though the calendar thing really makes my life possible, it’s missing a little something. And now I know, that something is my 5 Critical Tasks.

I won’t say that I don’t still get tinges of anxiety. I do. It plagues me. I’m learning ways to deal with it. But when I write down those five tasks, and then strike them off throughout the day, it just does something. It clears my cache, in a way. It makes me feel like I’m making progress. And in fact, I can look at the list and see that, yes, I did knock some things off. Big things. Important things.

So what about those days when I don’t actually have five critical tasks?

They happen. Sometimes it’s because I know that one particular task is going to take a huge chunk of time. I know that things are going to be a little skewed. Or I know that I’m maybe a little burnt out, and need to recover (this happens when I do conference stuff, or do a lot of virtual events).

On those days I may only put a couple of work tasks. Things that are important, that will move my career and life forward, for sure. But I maybe put fewer things on the day than I would have otherwise. And I put in some critical tasks that I sometimes forget to think about.

For example, for today, not only do I have “Write a blog post” on my critical tasks, I also have “Relax and enjoy yourself.”

That’s because we’re currently in a campground in Massachusetts, surrounded by families and activities. It’s been a long week, and I’ve gotten a lot done. I’ve been productive and efficient. And now, I need some wind-down time.

So this afternoon, once I’ve struck all four other tasks off of the list, I’ll close my iPad, take a walk, chat with the neighbors, and spend the rest of the day and evening letting everything fade into the background.

Because sometimes it’s important to make personal care the first thing.

So does this list help?

I’ve been using it for 30 days straight now. Out of those 30 days, there was only twice that I didn’t get to everything on my list. But that said—yes. Absolutely. The list helps.

I transfer things from my calendar onto that list, and since I limit myself to five tasks that means I can’t overload my day. I have to move those extra tasks to later. So that helps me to think through my list and to prioritize.

I also have a record of when I did things. I know I struck Task X off on July 23rd. DONE. Now I can move on, my bandwidth freed up, my soul feeling a little less crushed from the weight of all the To-Dos.

It works. It works for me, anyway. The combination of my calendar and this list is a good one. It helps me create more time while still getting everything done.

I’m continuing to experiment and to see if I can refine this, add some new things, take some things away. But I’m pretty happy with my results so far.

If you try this and like the process, be sure to let me know in the comments below!

Until then, good health and God bless.

Kara and I are currently in Fort Collins, Colorado. Since getting here, we’ve ranged out to local towns, gone hiking with friends, had some great food and great coffee. We even celebrated my birthday here.

The Autumn has brought with it a shift in color and tone—we find ourselves surrounded by golden hues as the leaves turn. This gold falls to the ground around us, painting the entire landscape like a scene from a coming-of-age film. I’ve sat by lakes that look like the sort of thing people save to their computer desktops or iPhone backgrounds.

When we started this journey, even before it became #VanLife, I’ll admit to some trepidation. Despite the fact that this is something I’ve talked about, dreamed about, wanted since I was very young, I’d gotten al little relaxed in my life. I had come to love my little office, with the plush chair for napping and the hand-hewn desk made of plumbing fixtures and barn wood. I’d gotten accustomed to dreaming, instead of living, but I was ok enough for it. I had a very comfortable spot.

Getting out here has been a little uncomfortable. And that’s good. Discomfort means growth. I like growth.

In the past couple of months, Kara and I have called a lot of places home. Holland, Michigan, was beautiful. So were the Black Hills of South Dakota. We enjoyed Cheyenne, Wyoming, and we’ve loved every minute of Fort Collins, Colorado, as well as Loveland, Longmont, Boulder, Golden. We’ll head for Colorado Springs soon, and we already know we love it there.

This has been a weird sort of journey, but it’s filling me up. It’s giving me a sort of nourishment I didn’t even realize I was missing. Trepidation went out the window after the first thousand miles.

Eventually I’ll go back to the office, and the plush chair, the naps and the hand-built desk. It will be in a new space, a new part of the world I probably haven’t even been to yet. It’ll will be just one more part of the journey.

Until then, the world is my office, my front and back yard, my meditation garden and my inspiration.

Not bad.

#3PiecesOfWisdom 07 October 2020:

• When things go wrong, don’t panic and give up—own it and make a decision.

• If your life isn’t the way you want it, what will you do to get on track?

• Don’t mourn or regret bad choices. Use them as fuel for better decisions.

Not a beer.

A Day at the Office

Yesterday we spent the day working from Stockade Lake, in Cussler State Park, South Dakota.

I have to admit, South Dakota is nothing like I pictured it. Parts of it are—wide, open, miles of barely anything. But here, near the Black Hills, it’s simply one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been.

I have to admit, it’s an amazing privilege to be able to spend time in places like this, doing my work from an office that includes lakes and trees and mountain vistas. It’s just beautiful and inspiring.

We’ve done some of the touristy stuff—Mt. Rushmore, the Cosmos Mystery Area, the Crazy Hours monument. But I think what I’m loving most is packing up in the mornings and finding some place stunning to work for the day. There’s something to be said for taking a break to look out at glorious nature.

We are here in South Dakota for just a few more days, and then it’s off to Colorado, where we’ll spend about a month before rolling on to Utah for Thanksgiving. I expect that between now and then, there will be more beauty, more things of interest to explore, more life to observe and to live.

Today I have some things on my plate that will keep me heads-down for a bit. But I do get the honor of being able to look up at tall pines and blue skies, from time to time.

As offices go, I can’t picture a better one.

#3PiecesOfWisdom 06 October 2020:

• It’s simple—if it’s the right thing, do it. If it’s the wrong thing, don’t do it.

• We tend to make things more complicated than they need to be.

• In the moment when you feel lost, trust your own wisdom.

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THE LEVER, THE FULCRUM, AND THE BOULDER

I used to wake up in funks that ran all day. I’d be grumpy and irritable, or I’d be sullen and silent. Or I’d range between those kind states all day. I’ve only recently started shaking that sort of thing off.

It’s not easy. Waking up in a funk is kind of like a boulder coming to rest in a stream. It’s big and heavy, and it fell in there by default. Getting it out again takes so much effort, it doesn’t feel worth it. You figure you’ve just got a boulder now, and your stream is blocked.

The thing is, you need that stream to flow freely. You can’t just leave that big rock in it. You depend on that water. So, you gotta move this thing.

You could call for help. No shame in that. But you might be able to move the boulder yourself, with some effort. Find a lever and a fulcrum, and you could be in business. Pry that boulder out and let your stream flow freely.

For me, my lever is things like writing and doing creative work, taking walks in nature, reading and watching inspirational things, listening to good music. Almost anything can be a lever, actually. But the fulcrum...

The fulcrum has to be your wisdom and all you’ve learned. Your philosophy in life. Your chosen perspective. You have to have a solid, strong fulcrum. You need to have something you can trust. My fulcrum is God and wisdom. Your mileage may vary. But there’s one last thing...

A lever and fulcrum can move the world, under the right conditions, but you still have to be willing to use them. You have to decide, and act on that decision. You have to make the effort.

It has to be you who takes charge and chooses, who decides that boulder has got to go.

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Kevin Tumlinson is a bestselling and award-winning author. He is currently traveling the United States with his wife, Kara, and their little dog, Mini, experiencing #VanLife as Kevin writes and publishes from the road. Follow the adventure at AuthorOnTheRoad.com.

Have you ever been to the Cosmos Mystery Area in South Dakota? Place is trippy! I remember learning about it when I was really young, on that old 80s show That’s Incredible. If you ever get a chance, go! It’s fun, and a fairly inexpensive, family friendly way to spend an afternoon!

#3PiecesOfWisdom 05 October 2020:

• If you’re looking for your purpose, you’ll find it in the decisions you make and the experiences you pursue.

• Good days come from good decisions.

• You can decide by default or decide on purpose.

Old Books and Big Magic

Yesterday I revisited a stand-alone book I wrote years ago, doing a bit of editing that’s been needed since the book was published. I’m considering expanding it into a series, so this was the first step toward that.

It’s kind of amazing to look back at early work.

This particular book was experimental and a little difficult to place into a genre. Its origins are kind of incredible, though, and I’m proud of it. It also happens to be one of the books that got the most buzz, when I first released it.

Still, I haven’t looked at it in years.

But looking at it now, with so many more books under my belt, it’s been kind of amazing. I’m seeing a lot of early stylistic choices that I’ve outgrown. I’m seeing mistakes I no longer make (and some I still make).

I think going back to this book is going to be good for me.

That’s sort of the same reason you might consider writing a daily journal. It’s a way to record a slice of who you were, on a given day, so you can compare with who you are in this moment. It’s a way to mark growth, like those little lines your mom drew on your bedroom door.

Being able to see who we were helps us see who we are.

The trick is, don’t linger in the past. Don’t long for it, until you feel as if you’ve lost something.

The past moved on for a reason. Clinging to it will only mar it. You’ll get it dirty, and lose the beauty of it.

What was is golden, but what is will always be the biggest magic.

Even if you aren’t fond of now, this is the only moment you have to do real good in the world, to find real joy. This moment is the only one you’re empowered to work in.

Now is your moment.

Sometimes now stinks. But that’s just a sign. Find the threads of joy, of productivity, of empowerment, and now becomes a launch pad for the good in the next moment.

It’s how reality works. We think it’s immutable, but the truth is we change it with every single moment.

Mr. Rushmore, in South Dakota—a place I honestly never expected to see for myself.

Kara and I are in South Dakota, near Hot Springs. Yesterday we took a little drive to Rapid City, and even managed to swing by Mt. Rushmore. We didn’t spend much time there, and we’ll be going back, but the drive in and out was amazing and inspiring. Look for more about this… I can’t help but write about it!

As of today, I’m trying something new. Each morning I write “3 Pieces of Wisdom” in my little pocket notebook, and I share them with a hashtag on Twitter. Awhile back, I started writing a thread with each post, just free-writing my thoughts on this or that. I’ve thought about making those a daily blog post, and I’m finally pulling the trigger on it.

So I hope you enjoy this. The format may or may not change as I go, but I think this is pretty much “it.” Take a read of it, and feel free to leave a comment and let me know your own thoughts. I’d love to hear them!

#3PiecesOfWisdom 01 October 2020:

• Imagination is your reality starter kit.

• Where you are is just as important as where you are going.

• Any advice or wisdom you have, give it to yourself first.

Probably my favorite photo of me and Kara to date.

Spent Ink and Empty Notebooks

I had to replace the ink cartridge in my pen, before writing today’s journal entry. The event always seems holy and precious to me. The retirement of one cartridge, the initiation of a new one—it’s a rite of passage.

I get kind of nostalgic, thinking about all the words written.

The same sort of thing happens when I write the final page in one of my Moleskine notebooks. Jotting down that last idea, that last lesson learned, I have a sense of pride and accomplishment. Also a sense of sadness. Something good is ending.

But then I open up a new Moleskine, crack open that fresh notebook to a crisp, new, empty page, and that’s when I have the excitement of a new beginning. I dream and wonder over what I’ll write, in the 200 or so pages ahead.

It’s old wisdom: Every ending is a new beginning.

Journaling is something I’ve done most of my life, although a lot of it was sporadic, lots of starts and stops. Thanks, twenties.

But I’ve kept it up enough to have mountains of notebooks. Mostly pocket Moleskines.

And some entries are awful, by the way. Angry. Poorly written. Angst-filled and melodramatic. At times I’ve written awful things about people I love. Or about myself.

But then I’ve written wonderful things. Kind and loving. Inspired and inspirational. Wise, even.

I’ve always had a hang up about claiming my own wisdom. I still do. It feels immodest, and in addition there’s the whole Dunning-Krueger thing. I may not know as much as I think I know.

Ah, well.

You can be wise and arrogant, or clueless, or over-confident. Wisdom is sneaky.

Wisdom is a treasure that hides in plain sight, and can be found and expressed by literally anyone. We hear wise things come from the mouths of children we love, and from people we despise. We can even hear it from ourselves... maybe in old journals.

Sneaky, sneaky.

So the point there is to listen, never discount someone as a fool, not worth paying attention to. You’ll sometimes need to use discernment to find the wisdom, to sift it from the chaff of idiocy. But it’s probably there.

We’ll talk about discernment some other time, if you like.

When Kara and I envisioned van life, it was all about road trips. We loved the idea of having our home with us, having a way to use the restroom, prepare a meal, take a nap, watch some TV, get a good night’s sleep—just somewhere other than where we always were. It’s been like that for about a month now, honestly. In fact, we’re two days shy of a month in the van. 

But we’re still in Houston.

So that was not something we envisioned. In fact, being in Houston in the Summer was something we were adamantly opposed to. If you’ve never been here, the breakdown is it’s hot, it’s humid, it’s twice as hot and humid as you were probably just imagining, and the closer you get to Houston, proper, the more allergy and lung issues you tend to have. Also, super more hot and humid than you’re imagining. 

The thought of weathering that heat and humidity in the travel trailer was bad enough, but doing it in the van seemed like a nightmare. And, to be honest, combatting those conditions has been a challenge. Our AC has run non-stop, and it’s proven inadequate to keeping things “crispy cool.” We end up having to idle the engine and run the in-dash AC for a couple of hours each day, to keep things below the high 80s to 90s.

We’re working on some solutions—like reflective screens for the windows. But that just means carrying something that takes up more space, requires more setup and breakdown, and blocks our view of the outside.

Or... we could go someplace where we can actually be outside without bursting into flames a la Dracula on beach day. 

We’ll get there. We’re just having to spend some time in Houston for a bit longer, get a few more doctor visits done, get a few more packages delivered, get a few more items moved in and/or out of storage.

That’s been an interesting and (admittedly) fun challenge: Getting things right.

For the most part, the van has everything we need. All our basic needs can be met, as long as we keep the reserve tank full of water and some food in the fridge. But as with society and culture as a whole, in our microcosm of existence, once you’ve met basic needs it’s time to start tinkering to increase the comfort, utility, and aesthetics of your environment. 

So for the past month, Kara and I have made some upgrades and tweaks. For example, we got foam mattresses with down toppers to go on top of the stiff cushions that came with the van. We’ve bought nice-looking quilts that add some color and visual interest, while also adding to our sleep comfort. We had the stiff back cushions that came with the van cut down so that they were narrower, and therefore not blocking our walking path as much (BONUS: I can also use one as a lap desk while I’m sitting on my bed).

To give us a little more fridge space, we bought a 12-volt-powered cooler fridge where we keep drinks and other items. It can be used as either a fridge or a freezer, and we have it hovering a little between the two. That’s handy, but it also doubles as a bench where I can sit and pull on socks and shoes in the morning. 

When we were in the travel trailer, we had two little USB fans that worked great, and stayed at our bedside. In the van, they’ve been a little more challenging to use. We don’t have “bedsides” anymore. But I was able to find two battery powered, USB-charged fans that have flexible tripods, allowing us to put them anywhere—even hang them from the cabinets above us so we can have a little more airflow during the day.

The van came with window coverings for the front, but they were bulky and didn’t help keep the heat out much. So I ordered a set of Heatshield reflective shades, custom fit for the Ford Transit. Those have made a huge difference, especially when combined with the existing screens. 

We’ve made some improvements outside the van as well. Since there’s no under-carriage storage, the way there has been in our previous RVs, we bought a StowAway hitch-mounted “trunk” to keep our camp chairs, outdoor stove, and hoses and power cables in. It’s worked out perfectly, especially with little wheel-hub organizers I have for our cables and hoses. 

But the thing I’m most proud of, outside the van, is that I installed quick-disconnects on the water inlet valves. In fact, if it involves water, going in or out of the coach, I have a quick-connect adapter on it. Thanks to this I’m able to set up or break down the whole thing in a few minutes—very handy for van life. We can go from over-nighting at an RV park to being on the road in under 10 minutes. Under 5 if I don’t have to refill the water reserves or empty the black and grey tanks. 

These modifications have been fun. They’re the kind of thing I seem to enjoy most about this lifestyle. I like thinking about ways to improve something, and then improving it. I’m carrying some basic tools with me—hand tools like a hammer, wrenches, sockets, pliers, screwdrivers, but also a battery-powered drill and saw. And, of course, my Swiss Army knife, the ultimate go-to tool. And with all of these, as compact as they are, I can do many things.

The key is to be able to think in terms of repurposing and using whatever you have to solve whatever problem comes up. I’m pretty handy, and can fix practically anything. My engineering background comes out, from time to time. But anyone can do this, if they’re willing to rethinking what they have and how it can be used. 

I used to love those little thought experiments where someone would give you and object and you had to think of as many ways to use it, aside from its intended purpose, as you possibly could, in just a few minutes. I still do that sort of thing on my own today. You should try it—it’s a great way to sharpen your creative problem solving skills.

As we move deeper into van life, I can already see that there will be challenges and issues and problems. It’s the nature of the thing. We live in a house that suffers a 5.0 earthquake every time we get on the road—stuff happens. And there will certainly be problems I can’t solve on my own, or can’t solve immediately. It’s the way it is.

But what I love most about van life is not only the challenge of solving those problems, but also the challenge of finding new and better ways to do things. I love having to think about everything I have with me—how many ways can it be used? Do I have something that could serve these two purposes, so that I don’t have to bring two different items? Can I make this thing work for that purpose, and leave that thing behind? 

I love it. I think it’s the way we all should think and operate. There’s something to be said for “the right tool for the job,” but there’s also something to be said for “don’t use a lack of tools as an excuse to not do the job.”

This is the stuff that makes a nomadic life fun.

Kevin Tumlinson is an award-winning and bestselling author, podcast host, and content creator. Follow Kevin and his adventures while traveling and writing by visiting AuthorOnTheRoad.com.

Kara and I are back in the Houston area, where we’ve been doing some... shifting. 

First, we came back to the area primarily to get to our three storage units, in an effort to consolidate them down to one. This turned out to be a little impractical—we still own a lot of stuff.

It’s a “problem” we’ve been dealing with for awhile now, but it’s become more prominent as we’ve stared making a move to be more minimalist in how we live. And I put “problem” in quotes because, when it comes down to it, having a bunch of stuff crammed into a storage unit isn’t that big of a deal. We’re just like millions of other Americans. More wealth than we can carry with us. 

But it’s quote-problem-quote because we’re aiming for that more minimalist approach to living. There’s something we’ve discovered, since getting on the road, that makes having multiple storage units—or even a single storage unit—a quote-problem-quote. It has less to do with the stuff and more to do with what the stuff means to us.

Those storage units contain a lot of old memories. Nostalgia, in some cases. But in others it’s just... weight. 

As I was moving around furniture and crates and boxes, I made a joke I’ve made before: “Why is everything we own heavy?”

There’s a sutra in that question. 

As Kara and I have transitioned to living full time out of a small space, forced to travel light because we simply can’t carry everything with us, it’s started to dawn on us that the less we have to be concerned about, physically, the less concerned we feel, psychologically. The weight of all that stuff starts to slough off, and we start to feel free. 

That’s one of the reasons we’ve ended up spending more time messing around with the storage units than we first intended. We’re starting to look at “owning things” in a new way. For one, we’re starting to realize that for awhile now it’s our stuff that’s owned us, not the other way around.

Case in point: We’re paying for three storage units, to house a bunch of stuff that is a mix of things we care about and things that we don’t. We’re paying money for it to sit there, unused. Most of it we’ve wanted to replace or dispose of for a long while. 

So... joke’s on us.  Our stuff has us right where it wants us.

When we first got back to Houston I took a week off to just start ploughing through the bigger of the three storage units, with the goal of emptying it entirely. It was harder than I anticipated, because all that stuff kept reminding me of reasons to keep it. “You might need this thingy some day. Wouldn’t this doohickey be handy under the right circumstances? This is a jigamabob that you got from person X... you wouldn’t want them to think you’re ungrateful!”

I’m a contingency kind of guy. Call it Boy Scout preparedness—I like to keep resources handy, just in case. Tools, materials, equipment, you name it. I still have junk I picked up in my teens.

So many things I own are there for contingencies.

The trouble is, those contingencies rarely happen. And though it’s nice to have a few things on hand that I can use to solve problems, it’s a rare day indeed when I need to dig through The Box of Many Wires and retrieve that old cable that I kept from a gaming system I haven’t had since 1992.

So, tough as it was, Kara and I started making the hard decisions, and letting a lot of our stuff go.

Donation bins are currently bulging with my contingency items, as well as clothes and shoes I don’t have room for, tools I have in triplicate, video equipment that hasn’t worked since the first President Bush was in office, and so forth. 

We managed to cull things down from three storage units to just two.

That may not sound like a huge leap forward, but it did wonders for taking some of the weight off of our shoulders. It’s a good start. And it really is just that—a start. Our plan is to come back periodically and do more clearing in the storage units, until one day, finally, we should be rid of a second one. And then, maybe, we’ll try downsizing the third one. I’d love to get that pile down to about half the size of one of those units. 

To be sure, there are things we’ll always hold on to. Kara’s grandmother left us some very nice antique furniture that we want to put in a forever home some day. I have certain studio gear that I want to use in that same home, in a dedicated studio space. There are various items that have nostalgic value for us. But if we are honest and diligent with culling this stuff down, I think we’ll find ourselves feeling less weighted down by it. 

Less mental weight to slow us down as we travel through the world and experience life. Less weight to hold me back as I write and produce more books and content.  That’s just good for everyone. 

And as a part of going more minimalist... we’re downsizing our living space.

A little over a week ago we took a leap and traded the truck and travel trailer for a travel van.

Effectively, we cut our living in space in half, meaning we have to carry even less with us as we travel the US. 

#VanLife

The people who know about this already have been surprised and, I think, a little delighted by the move. It’s tough to figure out, I know. We had a hard time envisioning this at first ourselves.  But now...

So the progression was to first sell our four-bedroom, 2500 square-foot home and moving into a one-bedroom apartment. Then we moved into a 38-foot motorhome. Then we moved back into a two-bedroom apartment, then to a three-bedroom apartment. And then we downsized back into a travel trailer. And now we’re living in a van that has roughly 120 square-feet of living space.

Go figure. 

Downsizing has definitely forced us to be more minimalist, but it’s also forced us to be more creative with what we do carry. Everything has to serve more than one purpose, for example. Things also have to be moved from place to place in what my friend Joe Russo calls “the van shuffle.” (See Joe & Kait Russo’s own van life/camper life adventures at https://weretherussos.com). It’s a bit of work, and a huge shift in mindset. But it’s... well, it’s oddly fun. And, even better, it’s oddly freeing. 

We live in this tiny space, but our lives just got a lot bigger. 

I’ll be covering more about van life and our adventures on the road in future posts, as we learn and grow into this. But Kara and I are excited about all of this. And Mini, despite pouting a little at first, has gotten into her own groove. 

We’re living smaller and it’s making our lives so much larger. I can’t wait to see where we grow from here. 

Buckhorn Lake RV Resort | Kerrville, Texas

When Kara and I first decided we were going to do this—live in a tiny travel trailer full time and move around in the country for a year or two—we had what I figure are the usual daydreams. I pictured us parking lakeside, the mountains in view on the horizon, trees forming a canopy overhead. I like being in spots where there are people, so in my head there were always families around. Kids riding bikes, swimming, paddling in canoes. 

And if it was a holiday—say, Independence Day here in the US—maybe there was some kind of fireworks show. People would grill outside, the smells would be wonderful. The atmosphere would be “endless summer.”

I know you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop...

But I have to say, most of that list gets a check, here at Buckhorn Lake RV Resort.

Ok, swap Texas hills for mountains, and the Guadalupe river and some creeks and waterfalls for the lake. Our spot doesn’t have much tree cover, but there’s a little.  But the kids and families are all around us, riding bikes and playing games and swimming in the pool. It’s definitely “endless summer.” 

4th of July Fireworks at Buckhorn Lake RV Resort

And as for the 4th of July—wow. 

These folks put on a heck of a show! In fact, they do the whole thing right, from the ground up. The day was filled with the smell of outdoor grilling, people were festive and enjoying themselves. There was a golf cart parade, followed by a Frito pie lunch, and later a delivered-to-your-door rib dinner that included the best watermelon I’ve had in a long while. And that evening, there was an ice cream social, leading up to a massive fireworks display. People cheered. It was... moving.

Before anyone gets too worked up, you should know that there was appropriate social distancing throughout. Frankly, that’s the way things are in places like this. People like each other, but we’re all here to spend time with our families, and we like to do our socializing from a comfortable distance. RV life may be the best form of social distancing there is.

We’ve been here in Kerrville, at Buckhorn Lake, since late May. This morning, as I write this, it’s our last full day here. I have to say, I’m going to miss it. 

Things have gotten so painful and frightening out in the world, Kara and I worried briefly if this plan to get on the road was gong to be nixed. We worried that we’d get out here and meet with nothing but suspicion and road blocks. We came out of an environment of fear, and we did worry that it would continue. 

But here, a lot of that worry and stress fell away.

Day one in Kerrville, Texas

I think part of it is just having the ability to move around a little, and see some of the world we haven’t yet seen. But I also think there’s an element of facing your fears in this. We grew afraid, for a minute, but getting out here showed us there was less to be worried about than we’d thought. 

Any new adventure comes with its risks and it’s worries. Things can go wrong. But that’s the point of adventure, when you stopped to consider it. Part of the fun is that it’s not always fun. Part of the joy of it is that you sometimes have to solve problems and figure things out.

Something I’ve learned about RV life is that it requires you to be continuously present and strategic. It forces you to consider everything you do.

If Kara and I are boon docking, we have only so much water onboard, and so much capacity for things like grey water and black water. We’ll eventually have to dump the tanks, and refill the reserves. So we have to be conscious and aware of that. 

The same goes for propane—we depend on it for everything from heating our water to cooking our food to running a generator, if it’s needed. We have three 15-pound tanks onboard, so we have to monitor that.

Our capacity to store food is limited by the size of our pantry and our refrigerator, so we have to be aware of those spaces. We’re also trying to eat healthier, so we have to consider all options there, and that turns out to not be so easy. What are our food staples? What’s a true must-have, and what can we do without? 

Same with clothes and belongings. I have a tiny little closet with a little hanging shelf system, and that’s where all my stuff goes. I have a backpack that contains all of my gear and equipment, and that’s shoved into a little nook under my side of the bed. My tools are in a little slide-out drawer in the outside storage bay, and I only have room for some essentials. We’re utilizing the bed of the truck, protected by a rolling bed cover, as a “garage” for things like chairs, bikes, and the generator.

We also have to think ahead on things like where we’re going next, whether there’s an RV campground we can stay in, or whether we need to go off-grid for a bit. What’s in town, and how close is town anyway? And, very important for us, is there good mobile internet coverage in the area? Is there a way to get online so we can do our work? 

There’s a lot to consider. A lot more than what we ever had to keep track of when we owned a house or rented an apartment. Basically, this little camper is our ticket to seeing more of the world, but it requires that we take 100% responsibility for keeping all the pieces moving. 

Then there’s the pandemic...

I almost hate writing about this, but it’s not a complete picture until I bring it up. 

Here in Kerrville, just an hour outside of San Antonio, things have been pretty well balanced. We still see signs of the pandemic here—masks, little signs on shop doors, X marks taped at six-foot “social distancing” intervals on sidewalks, etc. But I’ve been very happy to see that people are still living their lives. There aren’t very many instances of people flipping out over wearing or not wearing masks. None, in fact, since we’ve been here. People just do what they do, and let others do what they’re going to do. As it should be.

But there’s been a key shift in my thinking, when it comes to all of this. We are currently embarking on a new reality. Some of us don’t like it much, but that’s kind of irrelevant. This is our reality now, and for the foreseeable future. It’s our culture. And like it or not, we have to accept it for what it is. 

Once we accept reality, though, we can start working to change it. 

That’s the part people tend to forget. Accepting what is—reality—doesn’t mean you can’t work to change it.

This has been a tough and difficult lesson for me, but I finally get it. You can spend all your energy fighting and rejecting reality, and come away exhausted and with no wins. Or you can accept that this is how things are, and then use that energy to start doing something to change it, to make it better. 

That’s one of the lessons I’m taking away from this experience, getting on the road and living in Kerrville, Texas, for the past couple of months. There are two things, really:

One—life is sweeter, and we notice it more, are more present in it, if we take full responsibility for it and consider everything that needs to be considered. When our lives depend on each choice we make, we live our lives more fully. 

Two—fighting reality is a losing battle. Accepting reality doesn’t mean you lose. Accept reality and start working to change it, and you will win by default. Create something good in the world, and you win. 

And maybe three—it’s all just that simple.

Definitely going to miss this place

As we round things off here in the Texas Hill Country, and prepare for the next hop in this Author on the Road experience, I’m really happy to take away some good lessons. I’m happy that I’m seeing some growth in my life. I’m happy that it’s having a positive effect on every aspect of my life.

I’m writing more. I’m creating more content. I’m finding myself to be more positive, and feeling more free and liberated. 

This has been a good trip. I know that there will be times when things aren’t as sweet, aren’t as fun. But to start our journey, I can’t think of a better beginning. Kara, Mini, and I have all been very happy this past couple of months, and we’re looking forward to the next round.

And I can’t wait to bring you along with us.

Kevin Tumlinson is an award-winning and bestselling author and content creator. He and his wife, Kara, travel full time with their little dog, Mini, visiting places across the US that inspire Kevin’s writing. You can follow Kevin and Kara on their journey at AuthorOnTheRoad.com.