Where is the Best Place in the World to Write?

Thailand - best place in the world to writeChew on that question for a bit and let me present my case for Thailand being the best place in the world to write for a living.

I hadn’t thought much about it, though it’s quite obvious to me after fourteen years in Thailand.

Thailand is, if not the ultimate, it’s one of the best places to come to live your life as a writer.

Cost of Living

Cheeeep. My wife and I, for one year, survived on $300 USD per month. Where can you do that in America? Canada? Mexico? You can’t. The cost of living in Thailand is freakishly low, and in fact, the per capita income is something like $200 per month. The flight here will cost $1,000 – 1,500. Once you’re here, if you just need to subsist and have basic internet and food – and you’re not a drinker or crack addict you’ll be able to live on $350-500 per month without resorting to eating silkworms, bamboo worms, scorpions, and crickets – but you could if you wanted to.


Many writers just write for a living in Thailand. It’s quite possible. If you can make $500 per month from your various writing assignments, consistently, you can call yourself a full-time writer and be living the dream – doing nothing but writing.

Some take jobs teaching English. Teachers make, on average, about $1,000 per month. Of course, it takes 8 hours of your day that you could be writing. If you have a Bachelor’s degree in anything you can teach English in Thailand. There are some more requirements, and I’ve written a book about teaching in Thailand.

Natural Beauty

I spent 6 years in Hawaii and 14 years in Thailand. Thailand compares very favorably with the beauty of Hawaii. It’s much more diverse – with amazing beaches, islands, and cool mountains in the north. Thailand is every bit as beautiful as Hawaii.

Stress as a Writer in Thailand?

My stress levels moving from the pressure-cooker USA to Thailand have dropped by a factor of 25. I no longer worry about things that I used to. The food is absolutely amazing. The people – pure gold. Temperature? I thrive in warm climates so the heat isn’t bad for me, it does get cooler in the northeast if you want to go there to write. Car insurance? It’s $25 per year. Health insurance? You don’t need it. My friend had 2 brain surgeries after a motorbike accident – stayed in a hospital a month. Bill? $2,200 USD.

Imagine a place where you can speed your vehicle at will and never worry about a speeding ticket. Yes, it’s paradise to live in Thailand as a writer. You can write daily without the little things bothering you. I have had a couple years of writing 1,000,000+ words. This year won’t be any different. This year I’ve already completed a couple e-books and I’m 50 pages into “Collecther” – a thriller killer novel, and 30 pages into “Spicy Thai Diet“.

Thailand is the best place to write if you’re a full-time writer and need low stress, fun, and new experiences to fuel the fire of your creativity.

Any questions?

Obscurity Knocks | Becoming a Writer

Sitting at my tin-metal desk gazing out the spiderweb-filled second-floor window at coconut palms and Thai flags flying on the blood meridian. There’s a secondhand shop across the 4-lane road. Above it and three kilometers away is a small limestone mountain where I catch snakes a hundred times a year.

At 5:30 pm. the guy with only a quarter of his teeth is going to be-bop his way down the sidewalk to the blue plastic trash bin. He’ll find at least one plastic bottle, and sometimes a plastic bag to pull out. He’ll walk back toward the street leading to his home watching everyone drive by. Sometimes he smiles and gives shocked looks to passersby. He isn’t shocked, it’s just his way.

I sit up here ‘working’ as the rest of the world is in action. I think. They work. I contemplate. They suck it up.

I have massive ambition. I have goals that must be met. I just cannot figure out the plan for meeting them.

Obscurity knocks.

I’ve done so much. So much of little consequence. I’m sitting here deciding the future for us. My family. I have a little girl, 8, and her mom is 34. Grandma is with us, for something to do. She’s 63.

I am a young 51. I planned life exactly like this when I was a teen. I saw far too many people not enjoying life, and my intent was to enjoy mine. I figured I’d get serious about life at 50. I came close. I was about 48 when things changed and I got serious about life. About money. About GTD. About legacy.

I’ve saved enough to seek greener grass. Taiwan. Thailand has worn on us. The moss has grown thick on my ass. If we don’t go now, we’re not going anywhere. Scary thought.

Teaching English is not my forte. I’m a disservice to the kids. I know I shouldn’t. But, it’s an implicit part of the plan if we move. We’d move not just to escape some of the worst Thailand has to offer but to save money. Way past time to save a lot of money… in hindsight.

So, like most writers, I face a crossroad. A decision to go this way or that. There is an uphill road, and there is a steep uphill road.

Which to take?

The first 51 years in literal obscurity.

The next 50 in what?

Obscurity Knocks – Trashcan Sinatras

Always at the foot of the photograph – that’s me there
Snug as a thug in a mugshot pose, a foul-mouthed rogue
Owner of this corner and not much more
Still these days I’m better placed to get my just rewards
I’ll pound out a tune and very soon
I’ll have too much to say and a dead stupid name

Though I ought to be learning I feel like a veteran
Of “oh I like your poetry but I hate your poems”
Calendars crumble I’m knee deep in numbers
I’ve turned 21, I’ve twist, I’m bust and wrong again

Rubbing shoulders with the sheets till two
Looking at my watch and I’m half-past caring
In the lap of luxury it comes to me
Is this headboard hard? am I a lap behind?
But to face doom in a sock-stenched room all by myself
Is the kind of fate I never contemplate
Lots of people would cry though none spring to mind

Though I ought to be learning I feel like a veteran
Of “oh I like your poetry but I hate your poems”
Calendars crumble I’m knee deep in numbers
I’ve turned 21, I’ve twist, I’m bust and wrong again

Know what it’s like
To sigh at the sight of the first quarter of life?
Ever stopped to think and found out nothing was there?

They laugh to see such fun
I’m playing blind man’s bluff all by myself
And they’re chanting a line from a nursery rhyme
“Ba ba bleary eyes – have you any idea?”

Years of learning I must be a veteran
Of “oh I like your poetry but I hate your poems”
And the calendar’s cluttered with days that are numbered
I’ve turned 21, I’ve twist, I’m bust and wrong again
Ought to be learning
Twist, I’m bust and wrong again
Feel like a veteran
Twist, I’m bust and wrong again
Calendar’s cluttered
With days that are numbered
And I know what it’s like
To sigh at the sight
Of the first quarter of life