In this episode, Steve Harper and Michelle Cutler, a storytelling coach and screenwriter, dive into the overlooked power of travel narratives. They explore how sharing more than just “current situation” photos can deepen connection, expand your online presence, and reflect personal growth. Cutler offers practical strategies—from using sensory detail to naming emotional stakes—that elevate everyday posts into engaging, resonant stories. She draws on her own experiences living abroad, coaching writers, and navigating cultural difference to illustrate how what we bring to a place is just as vital as what we take from it. The conversation also touches on resume writing, SEO, and the ethical use of AI in storytelling.
We’ve been writing about travel for centuries—explorers’ logs, ship journals, letters home. Today we post a photo with “current situation 😎” and keep scrolling. The image might be gorgeous, but words are what make your moment mean something to someone else.
Travel narratives aren’t just for magazines. They’re what you say to a friend after a trip, the caption beneath your photo, the update you bring back to your team after a conference. Done well, they transport your reader and quietly strengthen your personal brand (and yes—your SEO).
Here’s how to go beyond “wish you were here.”
A first impression is a punctuation mark; a story has movement.
Mini-template
I came for ___ because ___. In ___, I noticed ____, ____ , and ____. Now I’m leaving with ___ and I’ll ___ when I get home.
Ask, “What’s in it for them?” even if they never click a link.
Share 2–3 takeaways:
We don’t travel as blank slates. Your lens matters.
If your socials connect to your work, your captions are content.
It’s a tour, not a timeline. Choose one thread and follow it.
Pick a lens:
Not every moment is bliss—and that’s still a story. Let your draft cool before posting. A fast opinion is not a narrative; give it time to earn its beginning–middle–end.
The coffee arrived with a leaf of mint and a small glass of seltzer—Granada’s quiet way of saying “stay.” Outside, the street was already arguing about where to have lunch. Inside, cups chimed against saucers and the air smelled like orange peel. I came because I’ve been writing too much from screens and not enough from scenes. The barista showed me how they zest the peel directly over the cup—tiny oil fireworks on foam. I’ll take that home: a small extra step that changes everything, including mood. If you find yourself near Plaza ___, grab the corner table by the door around 10:30; the light hits the marble like a stage. Order café con leche “muy caliente,” and ask for the orange. You’ll be here longer than you planned. That’s the point.
Travel writing is an invitation: come see what I saw—and why it mattered. When you give your reader a path into your moment, you’re not just documenting a trip. You’re practicing the craft of story—one caption, one paragraph, one honest detail at a time.
If you want help shaping your travel notes into memoir pieces, newsletter posts, or stronger captions that actually connect (and get found), I offer short coaching sessions and workshops. Start here: michellecutler.com.