Authors are adventurers—and I don’t mean in the whole I-can-go-anywhere in a book sense, although our beloved Reading Rainbow is right about that, too. Authors are wheels-on-the-pavement, walking-trails-unknown adventurers. Once or twice a year we come out of our caves, shower, trade workout clothes and sweatpants for normal clothes like dresses or jeans, and jet around the country — or world for some of us — on book tour. Even the words “book tour” sound sophisticated and organized, the same vibe as a riverboat cruise or a meticulously arranged European sojourn. In actuality, book tour is more like taking an unreliable RV down country roads without cell service or maps — you might think you know where you’re going and when you’re supposed to be there, but how you’ll actually make it is anyone’s guess. It seems like flight delays, weather issues and car trouble all lie in wait until book tour starts. That’s just how it is. I don’t make the rules. But somehow, despite transportation adventures that give Planes, Trains, and Automobiles a run for its money, we miraculously arrive at most of our events. Maybe we’ve had to change in our cars, maybe we’re only surviving on caffeine, gas station snacks and adrenaline, but we’ll get there all the same. And we’re willing to go on these wild escapades over and over again, because book tour is where the magic happens. It’s where we get to hug our readers, it’s where we get to build lasting friendships with booksellers, and it’s during the adventure of book tour that some of us find our best ideas for new stories. The PEOPLE App is now available in the Apple App Store! Download it now for the most binge-worthy celeb content, exclusive video clips, astrology updates and more! Back in 2022, I set out on a little weekend tour in West Virginia and Virginia with my mom for my novel, The Grand Design, about how renowned interior designer Dorothy Draper’s experiences at The Greenbrier Resort helped propel her from Gilded Age heiress to CEO. The tour started out in typical fashion — torrential rain and construction all the way from North Carolina to West Virginia. What should have taken us six hours took us nine and we were rerouted along some gorgeous but remote areas of West Virginia that didn’t have a smidge of phone service. We were enjoying our drive, finally back on a main road, when I received a call from one of my favorite booksellers, Marlene England of WordPlay Books in Wardensville, W.V. She mentioned that the town’s bluegrass barn party had been rescheduled for the same night as one of my book events. I was immediately intrigued by the party. It sounded like a blast. When Mom and I finally arrived in town, we were greeted by the cutest motel, a mercantile with farm-sourced goods and a bookstore I wished I could live in. When that evening’s event was over, Mom and I started back to the motel. Right before calling it a night, she looked at me and said, “I think we should go find the barn party.” We got back in her truck and drove out of town, down a pitch black two-lane, having absolutely no idea where we were going. Finally, we saw some lights, and then the hundreds of cars parked all over the farm. We turned in, thinking we’d just park anywhere and walk over to the barn, but were stopped by a man who told us we needed to buy tickets … with cash. Ordinarily, my mom is prepared in situations like this. A product of the credit card era, I never am. When the Taco Bell next to my college dorm started taking cards back in ’03 I figured it was over for cash. My mom, the genius that she is, told the ticket man that we were in town because I was an author promoting my new book, a book set in West Virginia about The Greenbrier and Dorothy Draper and didn’t he think that was interesting. He replied that he did — he was a wonderful actor — and my mom offered to give him a signed copy in exchange for the ticket fee. He agreed and we handed the book over and parked. The number of cars parked on the farm didn’t accurately portray the amount of people we came across when we reached the party. The doors of the old barn were flung open and people of all ages and backgrounds crushed around the stage and spilled over onto the lawn. Everyone was dancing and laughing — and the music was magnificent. Mom and I joined the crowd, meeting strangers who treated us like we were instantly part of a community. We drove home a few days later and a story began to percolate in my mind about an event planner who stumbles into running what the locals are calling the next Bluebird café (a renowned listening room in Nashville known for attracting both new and established talent) from her parents’ historic barn while navigating the affections of her first love, and the mysterious owner of the local hardware store. That idea would become my forthcoming novel, Sing Me Home to Carolina. Though the story takes place in a Schitt’s Creek-esque little Carolina town instead of Wardensville, you’ll recognize the barn parties in its pages. Sing Me Home to Carolina comes out on June 10, and I’ll set out once again on book tour — another grand adventure. There will be delays and cancellations and diversions along the way — that much I’m sure of — but like any good explorer will tell you, the journey is worth it. It might even inspire a book idea or two. 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