How's this place work?

If you could take a little mental holiday and go to any imaginary place, where would you go?
And what would you do while you were there?

Send me a postcard, handmade or otherwise, from an imaginary location. It can be a place from a book or a movie or a piece of music, or some other world you made up. On the other side, write and tell me what you've been doing on your vacation from reality.

All postcards to be addressed to:

Wish I Were Here
6219 156th Ave. NE
Redmond, WA 98052
United States

I'll scan a selection of postcards and post them to the blog for all and sundry to enjoy.

Friday, February 19, 2016

Postcard the twelfth: Risa

You'll never guess what came today! No, really, you never will.

Unless you happen to be Chris Overstreet, in which case you don't have to guess. Chris sends tidings from the beautiful M-class planet of Risa.

He writes:
"Stardate -307110.85
(10 February 2016)
I probably should have sent this via subspace; it'll get into the machinery for sure. It's so hard to get away from the Island of Sodor, but I needed my jamaharon -- it feels so jamaha-right!"

Thanks so much for the postcard, Chris; hope you're enjoying getting your jamahar-on! Oh, and the rest of you should go check out Chris' website,, for all sorts of antique, vintage, personal and whimsical postcardery.

(No, goofball, I am not going to explain to the kids what jamaharon is. You do it if you're so clever.)

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Postcard the eleventh: Amanite Hollow sunset

Hello, what have we here?

A gorgeous sunset vista at Amanite Hollow! Could this be a card from my dear friend Lullabee?

Why yes, yes it could! Lullabee writes:
"Hello my fairy friend,
Adeline Lokisdotter, Queen of the Norse fairy realms kindly invited me to rest at Amanite Hollow for a week. Pictured on the front is the cottage she generously lent me. She even provided me with a special guard to chase away intruders. Her name is Nocturne and she not only is fiercely protective, but she also provides air conditioning and white noise to lull me to sleep. Sipping nectar from an acorn cup, and feeling mightily tempted to eat the fairies' food. It all looks so delicious! Wish you were here."

Ooo, the Norse Woods! What a completely delightful spot for a retreat. Thank you for the update, Lullabee... and remember, whatever you do, don't eat the ambrosia. (My best to Queen Adeline.)

Friday, February 20, 2015

How do I handle this?

Gentle Readers, I have a problem. Today I received a lovely postcard from a lovely person. However, the postcard comes from, and depicts, a place that actually exists in reality. I've received more than one of these postcards, and I'm not sure what I should do with them.

Is there a better way to explain, as I've tried to do in the blog header, that this mail art project is about sending postcards from places you'd love to visit if only they really existed? If you have a good idea about how to make this concept more plain, I'd love to hear about it.

Friday, July 25, 2014

We have a new mailing address!

Well, the P.O. box has been swell. Really, it has. But I'm getting entirely too many reports from people who contact me to ask whether I received their postcards -- and I haven't seen them.

I participate in Postcrossing, so I'm aware that sometimes postcards do go astray in the mail -- but not this many, and not this often. So we're going to try a new mailing address and see if that makes a difference. Believe me, I WANT TO GET YOUR POSTCARDS.

Crossing fingers and hoping to see missives from unusual places very soon!

Monday, May 19, 2014

Postcard the tenth: Wheeling Ice

Behold! A new postcard!

This one comes from the Land of Wheeling Ice, where apparently the foties flow like water and the music flows like foties.

Our correspondent is apparently a man of few words, but bids you visit his Twitter account to enjoy the native music of his land.

Friday, May 2, 2014


That's right, this constitutes a call for postcards!

Thinking of sending in a card? Thinking of thinking of sending in a card? Thinking of random fluff and bits of flotsam? DOESN'T MATTER! I just want your missives from unknown lands.

And remember, postcard rates in most countries are usually cheaper than letter rates, so bonus! Come on, you know you wanna.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Why you should never trust an owl to deliver parcels

Well, I checked, and once again there's bupkis in the mailbox. So while we wait for further missives from imaginary lands to make their way here, let's have a story, shall we?

This story begins on a long-ago September day in a faraway place called Ogden, Utah. School was over for the day, and two grade-school sisters -- huge fans of the Harry Potter books -- were walking home together. As they approached their front door, though, they saw a strange circular box on the front porch, tied neatly with twine, with a stray owl feather still clinging to the package. The box had no visible name or postmark on the outside.

The girls brought the box inside and opened it on the living room floor. Inside, packed in excelsior, was a letter written in an old-fashioned hand in emerald-green ink -- but under the letter was a tiny golden box containing a crystal teardrop. According to their mother (from whom I received all the details of this story), the girls grabbed up the teardrop and went screaming around the house with excitement. Eventually, when they had calmed down enough, someone thought to read the letter that came with the package. It was addressed to Professor Dumbledore from Arthur Weasley at the Ministry of Magic, and explained that the Dragon's Tear -- the teardrop the girls had been shrieking about -- was an old Weasley family heirloom, but that Dumbledore was free to borrow it to do a bit of complex and powerful magic.

Mom and Dad pointed out that the package had obviously come to them by mistake, and that it would be best for them to send it on so it could get to the right place. This didn't sit well with the girls, one of whom was all for keeping the Dragon's Tear, but eventually they agreed to packing everything back up in the box. They did, however, add a note of their own introducing their family and explaining what had happened. Then they put the package back out on the front porch. It was gone by the next day.

A week went by without anything untoward happening. Then one day there was a letter on the front porch addressed to the children of the family, with a wax Hogwarts seal on the back. Inside, on Hogwarts letterhead, was a letter from Professor Dumbledore himself. He thanked the children for their honesty in passing along the Dragon's Tear, then asked if he could prevail on them to send him a few "Muggle items" he'd been looking for -- things they might easily find in their area, such as pennies, "some of that wondrous Muggle stuff called plastic," lemon drops, etc. This the children did, leaving the package to Professor Dumbledore on the front porch for owl pickup. Like the other package, this one vanished.

Then, a few days before Halloween, trouble struck. While driving home from work, Dad began to have a strange medical episode where his arm went tingly and numb and his heart felt strange. Fearing he was about to have a heart attack, Mom called a neighbor to come over and watch the children while she drove her husband to the hospital. The house was, understandably, in an uproar over this, and so it was that no one noticed the approach of a strange visitor to the front door.

There was a loud knock, and the neighbor opened the door to see a very, VERY large man (perhaps a half-giant?) dressed in black with a long cloak, a staff and a bundle of packages. He announced that he was a courier from the Wizard Parcel Service, since the packages he carried were too heavy to be brought by owl, and that he was here to deliver several items to the children of the family.

While the courier stared curiously at the family portraits on the wall and occasionally poked at them to try to make them move, the children unwrapped his bundle. Inside was another note from Professor Dumbledore, sets of wizard robes and hats from Madam Malkin's for every child in the family, wands from Ollivander's that had been de-magicked by order of the Ministry, and a box of sweets from Honeydukes (chocolate frogs, Every Flavour Beans, chocolate rocks, powder-pears). These were received with much excitement and curiosity (one of the girls asked the courier if he'd flown to their house, but he only smiled and refused to answer). Once he was satisfied that the parcel had been properly delivered, the huge courier bid everyone goodbye and quietly disappeared, as I suppose wizard couriers do.

Thankfully, things also turned out all right with Dad, whose heart attack turned out to be nothing more serious than a stress-related incident. Mom and Dad were just sorry they weren't at home to see the courier deliver his bundle.

So there's the tale of the owl that got blown rather drastically off course, and the hijinks that resulted. It makes me wonder how many other magical items get delivered in the mail, by accident or otherwise.

Monday, November 18, 2013

Postcard the ninth: Seattle Zombie Apocalypse

When it comes to postcards in the box, it seems to be either feast or famine... and today it looks like the feast is BRAIIIINS.

This is a pre-printed card, but it DOES appear to be coming from a besieged correspondent hiding out from the legions of Seattle's undead in the not-too-distant future, so perhaps we should take the circumstances into account.

Our unhappy friend writes:
"Everyone made fun of the apocalypse until it happened. Now it's too late to stop the plague from spreading -- unless Frank's time machine works. If this makes it back into the past -- it's too late for us.
Save yourselves!
I hear them comin--"

Hmm. That didn't end well. Time to practice up your Thriller dance, everyone!

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Postcard the eighth: Swimming with mermaids

Many's the day I've visited the post box, only to find it empty.

But today is not one of those days! For behold:

Here's what was waiting for me today.

The lovely and talented Anna writes:
"Greetings from the location of my childhood imagination. I must have drawn a picture of this place a thousand times as a kid. Let's all swim with the mermaid."

Thank you so much, Anna; I was thrilled to hear from you! And swimming with the mermaid sounds like an excellent idea. *sploosh*

Friday, October 18, 2013

Postcard the seventh: Planet Chehehe

A wild postcard appears!

And hehehe, it's from Chehehe!

Our friend Roger writes:
"Planet Chehehe is far away in a dark corner of the Cheniverse. I went there once."

Thank you so much for your spiffy postcard, Roger! You've made both me and my formerly-empty P.O. box very happy today.

(Go peruse Roger's Tumblr; he makes amazing and very fun art.)