I didn’t plan to make an Airstream my writing studio, let alone my home. At first, it was just an experiment. I’d spent most of my life in offices—sitting at desks, staring at walls, tethered to a routine. I wanted a place that felt different, a place where writing wasn’t boxed in by fluorescent lights and filing cabinets.
One afternoon, I ran an extension cord out to a vintage Airstream I’d parked in front of my house—a 32-foot Excella 500, polished aluminum and possibility. I brought in a sleeping bag and a book, just to see how it felt. The next night, I added a tea kettle and some music.
By the third day, my neighbor asked, “Shelah, are you sleeping in that trailer?”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Then I heard myself reply, “Yes. Yes, I am.”
That was the turning point. I found a spot for it on an island not too far away, sold nearly everything I owned, and stepped into a life I wasn’t sure I would love—or hate. A friend told me it would be one or the other. I imagined it would be both.
That was fifteen years ago.
It hasn’t always been easy. The trailer leaks when it rains. The power goes out when the island road closes. There are more books than shelf space, more ideas than corners to tuck them into. But it’s also the place where I wrote my first two books in The Boloney Trail Trilogy and countless short stories. It’s where I learned that small spaces can hold big stories.
What I’m Working On
Well, that's the story of how I ended up living full-time in my 1976 Excella 500.
And now, here’s what’s happening at my desk this week. I’m working on another true short story for There Was This One Time, which is focused on Gen Jones coming of age let me know if you can relate.
This wraps up another note from Rolling Relic, where you'll always find stories that are too raw to stay buried. Thanks for sitting with me. If it feels right. LIKE. SHARE. And FOLLOW.
