I set out to have a day worthy of Anne Shirley’s romantic imagination. But I ended up living an I Love Lucy-level misadventure.

On my road trip to visit Scottsville, VA, (Lottie Moon’s hometown!), I was going to sign copies of my book, Becoming Lottie Moon, at a really cool local coffee shop, Baine’s Books and Coffee. Then I was going to visit the Scottsville Museum and have a picnic near Viewmont Plantation, the Moon family homestead. I was going to have a deep authorly moment there and tell you all about it in this blog post.

But my author’s road trip did not go according to plan. What you’re about to read is how it really went, and yes, it is all painfully true.
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The night before my road trip, I scroll through my podcast app, downloading the episodes about the craft of writing. These will get my author vibes flowing for the rest of the day. In the cool of the morning, I will settle in my car for a peaceful drive through the country. I will bring a nice, healthy lunch so I won’t need to buy food in town. I will need to get gas, but packing my own lunch will keep my expenses low. I close out all my apps and plug my phone in for the night. Gotta make sure it’s fully charged. Because tomorrow, I will take loads of lovely photos to share with my blog readers. Oh, they will be so delighted to hear about the beautiful day I will have.

A lot of hours later, I wake up late and rush into the car at 8 in the morning. How is it 100 degrees already? I yank off my glasses, wipe the foggy lenses, and crank the AC to give me all its got.

Down the driveway and out of my neighborhood, I’m halfway to the gas station, then I realize. Yep, I forgot my deodorant. Doubling back for it would add 15 minutes to the trip, and I’m already behind schedule. I plunge ahead and pray for non-judgemental noses in Scottsville.

At the station, I fill up my gas tank and fire up the engine. Now the road trip really begins! But…do I turn left out of here or right? It’s been two years since the last time I went to Scottsville. I can’t remember. I pull out my phone for directions. It’s left.

“Hey–sit there all day!” a man barks at me.

What? I look up. An angry man in a truck (that he’s probably very proud of) zooms around me and into a space with an available gas pump. I glare and shake my head as my car crawls out of the station. I’m fuming and turn right.

A minute goes by. Ugh. I was supposed to turn left. Crankiness from my encounter with the angry truck man only escalates. There are so many other cars on my special drive through the country. Is half the city also going on an author adventure in Scottsville today? I reach for my lunch bag in the passenger seat and eat every single one of my snacks within the first hour of this trip–except the strawberries. There’s still hope for a peaceful picnic. This can still be a great day.

My scowl softens as I imagine arriving in Scottsville. I will be sure to snap a photo of the town’s “Welcome!” sign. And I’ll set up my brand new tripod to get a video of me walking into the coffee shop. I’ll meet the manager, and we will hit it off. She’ll bring me a stack of Becoming Lottie Moons, and I’ll sign them. Maybe customers will notice and buy them as I sign them! I almost won’t be able to sign them fast enough! The manager will need to order more copies to sell in the shop.

With all the copies signed and sold, I’ll sip a deliciously refreshing drink and read a book. I will have plenty of time. I may even start typing some inspiring thoughts about the experience for my dear readers. They’ll love it. After finishing a draft of the blog post, I will move on and venture into the town’s history museum. It will be wonderful.

Now full on smiling, I enjoy another podcast about writing. 30 miles to go. 1 mile to go. There it is! But all of the “Welcome to Scottsville” signs are along the side of the road, not near the downtown (like I thought I remembered) to safely take a photo. I zoom by and snap a blurry shot. Ugh, it’ll do.

I park and walk through the old downtown area. I’m carrying my cool new tripod in a long black bag that I now realize looks suspiciously like a weapon. Great. I don’t make eye contact with anyone.

I reach Baine’s, and–what?! There’s a giant trash truck in front of the bookstore. Workers are tossing roof materials into it from on top of the shop. If they miss, they could take out my tripod–or me! I nix the video idea and hurry into the shop. Oh well, maybe the blog post will focus on the actual book signing. I order a lavender lemonade 🍋 and a giant blueberry scone because I’m hungry and I ate all of my lunch hours ago. I sit down and quickly unpack my tripod to prove that I am not carrying a weapon.

The manager smiles at me. She’s great, and we have a great chat about my book and Scottsville’s history. We’re sitting in the same corner of the shop where we’re talking about having a small book event later in the fall. I imagine a cozy gathering and tell her about the presentation I want to share. The manager smiles and gets a dreamy look. She says that’s great, but maybe we could do it in the theater down the street and put some marketing behind it to really draw a crowd.

“Oh..yes, mhmm.” My gut hollows, and my eyes grow wide. Hopefully I look excited and not terrified. She says we can talk later about it. She drops a stack of Becoming Lottie Moons and takes one photo of me as I get to work, signing them and stuffing them with a bookmark. After a few, I fiddle with the tripod to get some cool footage for my blog post.

When the manager puts the book back on the display table, a customer walks by and picks one up. My heart inflates like a balloon. The customer shrugs and puts it back. [Insert that sound a balloon makes when it quickly releases all the air.] Oh well, maybe that book is meant for someone else 🤷‍♀️

I gather my backpack, suspicious looking tripod gear, and coffee shop food and claim a newly available table. I sip the lavender lemonade. It doesn’t disappoint in the slightest. And the scone tastes just like a blueberry Pop-Tart but better 🤩 I anxiously search on my phone for any photos or videos that are actually usable. Oh no. The cool video footage shot upside down. Maybe there’s software that can help me fix that. Gotta be possible in this age of AI, right? I did get a few nice photos. That should be fine. Oh! It’s time to go.

If I leave now, I can still have time for a meaningful visit to the town’s history museum and to Lottie’s homestead–all at a leisurely pace–before I have to start heading home.

I hustle down the road. The lavender lemonade cup is dripping condensation down my arm. It’s so hot today. I drop off the creepy tripod in my car and instantly feel much better about everything. I cross the street, climb the brick stairs, and step into the museum. That footage turns out pretty decent.

“Oh, hello–sorry, I should have knocked.” Right as I walk in, there’s a docent beaming at me. I’m the only customer right now. Am I the only customer today? I don’t ask. He tells me a little about the place and lets me peruse the displays. It feels so nice here! What a quiet, air conditioned respite. There’s history all over the place, and I can ask as many questions as I want. Maybe this is the turning point of the day. After I’ve seen my fill, the man takes a photo for me.

I tell him about my next stop, and he mentions another historical home that happens to also be in my novel – Mt. Ayr. I ask if it’s nearby. It is, but he says it’s a private residence so of course I couldn’t tour it. I remember that Viewmont Plantation is also a private residence. But that shouldn’t be a problem. I’ve seen wonderful selfies of other people, posing in front of the boulder bearing Lottie’s name. I should be able to get one of those selfies too–even better because I have a tripod 😎.

I thank the docent man and move on to the big finale of the day–Viewmont Plantation, where Lottie spent her childhood years and the setting to my novel.

I park peacefully on the side of the road. Rolling foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains surround me, just like I had imagined it while writing Becoming Lottie Moon. I reach over to the passenger seat and collect my photo gear and bag of strawberries. It will be so nice to sit quietly and eat my strawberries next to that boulder, enjoying the blue skies and reading the prayer book I had brought with me. I check the ribbon bookmark. Yep. Still on the page for “A Liturgy for Fiction Writers.” I should bring a pen. I may get inspired to write something beautiful and insightful. My blog readers will love that.

I look over my shoulder. The road sure is busy. Hopefully none of these cars will distract me from my picnic. I turn the AC off and put my hand on the keys to turn off the car then freeze. 😳 A car is pulling up the driveway from Viewmont Plantation right toward me. It must be the owner! I shift the gear back in drive and scoot out of there, back into traffic, sweat dripping down my back because (1) I didn’t bother turning the AC back on and because (2) I was two minutes away from getting caught picnicking on private property.

I’m not sure what to do. I didn’t come all this way to miss out on having a special moment at that boulder. I turn around–not back home but back to Lottie’s.

No more cars are coming out of Lottie’s driveway, but I park on the other side of the road just in case. They could be back any minute. I don’t think I’m doing anything particularly wrong, but still, I really didn’t feel up to explaining myself to the modern day owners of Viewmont Plantation about why I need a selfie with this boulder and want to honor the memory of the missionary who once lived here. Maybe I should calm down. People probably visit this boulder all the time. There might even be church field trips who come, right? … Maybe not.

I grab my tripod, wait for the busy 2-lane mountain road to clear, then hustle across. My guardian angles are working hard today. I reach the boulder and fiddle with the tripod, securing my iPhone on top to take the picture. I don’t look up to confirm that people are watching and wondering what I’m doing as they zoom by in their cars. I tap, tap, tap the screen. Why is the camera not working?

Oh, the tripod clamp is holding down the two side buttons on my iPhone for emergency calls. Great. Now I’ve called 911 three times. Maybe they will come help me cross the road to my car.

I fix the clamp and take a shot. It’ll do. I don’t check if I’m smiling or if my eyes are open. The owners could come back at any moment. IT. WILL. DO.

I pray as I run across the road, start my car, and rejoin traffic again. I chuck the writing shows and listen to the Tavin Dillard Podcast instead. His stories make me laugh all the way home. The drive home is beautiful. Everything is green. There are American flags in most yards because we’re not far from Independence Day and because it’s the country. When I come back in October to give my presentation, the autumn trees are going to be gorgeous. I wonder what that trip will be like? Less sweaty, for sure…unless I end up speaking in front of a whole theater. I pray to remember my deodorant on that day.

This certainly isn’t the author road trip I expected, but God is in control, which is good, and he helps me laugh about how I am so not in control. I reach across the passenger seat, grab those strawberries, and finally enjoy a prayerful picnic in my car. My blog readers will get a hoot out of this.
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If you would like to support author road trips like this and help cover the cost of my scone, you can Buy Me A Coffee or, you know — a lavender lemonade. Many thanks!

If you liked this blog post, here’s another one about an authorly road trip I took to Lottie Moon’s gravesite in Crewe, Virginia.