when your story fails dismally

i was packed and ready. my trunk was full of thousands of dollars of top-of-the-line gear (belonging to UNC, not to me). i even had some old skool film cameras, including this from a friend that i was super excited about using.

i had directions, water bottles, swedish fish and a new playlist on my ipod.

four hours of meditative road tripping to a plethora of visual imagery ahead of me...i was so ready.

six days previous, i called a commune in asheville that i had looked up months before. for a long time now, i've been fascinated by the idea that people, even individualistic americans, can tolerate one another enough to eat, sleep, farm and live together in limited quarters long term. some have made a life choice to do this.

i won't name names, but this particular commune (or intentional community, as i think they prefer to be called) aims to live like the first church in the bible. they literally sold everything they had and gave it away to live with 40 other people in three houses and live life to serve others. sounds great, right? the whole idea of it greatly appealed to the idealist in me and i had made plans long ago to visit and do a story someday. i thought to myself, "maybe i won't come back. maybe i'll find my people and stay there forever."

a bit extreme, i know, but it did cross my mind.

so last week, in anticipation of fall break and the long weekend ahead, i called said commune in asheville and asked if i could come and meet them and do a story. the woman i talked to on the phone was quite open and sounded enthusiastic about my venture. i was thrilled. i so relished the idea that i could have time to do a story outside of class assignments, and therefore i would cut loose and be extra creative. after all, no one was looking over my shoulder or telling me how to edit (note: i appreciate all input. i just wanted to experiment this time).

on my four hour drive from chapel hill to asheville, i envisioned all the shots i could get, picturing lots of pans of wide vistas and radiant fall foliage. i planned to use my borrowed rollei to take compelling portraits of the kids. i thought about the goats i knew they would have and how they would make for great audio. i imagined what the houses would look like and the window light making for great images.

and i arrived on thursday, warmly greeted, to find that they didn't want me to take any pictures or do any interviews, but would rather have me visit for the weekend and get to know me first.

i was shell shocked.

in my head i thought, "do you KNOW how far chapel hill is from here? do you KNOW how expensive gas is right now? do you KNOW how very much i was looking forward to telling your story??"

but i didn't say that. i said that i could scale back what i was planning on doing, perhaps taking fewer pictures and i could schedule interviews for another time (when do i have time to skip up to asheville for a weekend?). but the more i met other members of the commune, all of whom were very kind and welcoming, the more it became clear that i wasn't going to be taking any pictures or video.

i kept hearing, "oh its so wonderful to meet you! we're so glad you're here. sorry you aren't able to take pictures this time."

over and over, reinforced, "you can't take pictures."

so i resigned myself to (excuse the allusion) the fact that i would be visually castrated this weekend and chalked it up to a weekend of observation. it could be beneficial should i decide to pursue this story in the future, right?

maybe. but as time went on and i stayed longer, it became clear that this commune is quite evangelistic and tries extra hard to recruit new members. i was a minnow that had fallen to the sharks. they wanted me to join. stat.

what i had planned as a four day trip quickly turned to only 24 hours. my friend courtney had read a little about this commune and thought they sounded like a cult. wikipedia said they had a history of kidnapping. i wrote her off with a carefree wave of my hand and said, "oh courtney, you can't believe anything on wikipedia!"

but the longer i stayed, the more an ominous feeling settled over me. what if they did try to kidnap me? what if they took parts out of my car while i wasn't looking (like the nuns in sound of music did to the nazis) or gagged me while i slept? what if they gave me kool-aid to drink?

all these things crossed my mind as i crept away to my bunk bed, away from the noise of the main house where ALL the women and kids were in the kitchen, preparing for the sabbath (they had to make all the food and do all the cleaning ahead of time because they will not do any work on saturday). i started thinking about what could happen, how angry i was, and what my plan of action should be.

having kept my cell phone hidden and on silent thus far, i pulled it out while in bed and started texting my mom and best friend. here's how the conversation with my friend went (excuse the minor expletive. it is necessary):


me: i feel like i'm on a different planet with this commune... its weird here.

friend: i can't wait to hear about everything. can we start a commune in tibet?

me: sure, but not like this one. i really don't like it. they aren't letting me take pictures!

friend: ummm but that was the point of coming... you're a photojournalist. damn hippies.

me: i know... its a long story. i'm hoping they'll let me take SOME pictures maybe tomorrow.

friend: they are a cult. abby don't let them kidnap you please. if they do i'll come save you and if need be i'll bring in [our brothers] for reinforcements.

me: haha i'm not gonna lie i have wondered if they will try to kidnap me.

friend: i'm scareddddd but i so wish i was on this adventure with you.


after this conversation and the growing fear of kidnapping, i made my decision. i would go to the woman who had showed me around and originally told me i could, then i couldn't take pictures, and tell her that i wasn't feeling well and needed to head home (not a total lie).

i opened my door to find four of the hippies standing outside my room staring at me. my heart turned over and i excused myself to the bathroom. when i came out, they were all gone. i tried the doors leading out of the hallway, one of which had a sign saying "do not use." the other, i couldn't get open.

genuine panic set in.
i rebelled and opened the forbidden door and went to tell the woman that i was leaving.

she began crying. she claimed it was because she was pregnant and extra emotional... maybe. i'll give her the benefit of the doubt. but i wonder if it was because i was dashing her hopes for a new member.

nope. not today. not me.

so i hightailed it out of asheville, leaving the beautiful mountains with mounting sorrow and frustration, because i so wanted to be a part of them and make a beautiful story there.

i didn't take a single picture. didn't even get my cameras out of the trunk. i felt like a deflated balloon.

that was fall break for me. that was my failed story. perhaps the next time i visit them (with support... aka never again alone) they'll allow me in a little more and i can get some footage. until then, i still have the 4 day old stench of onions in my hands from where i chopped vegetables for hours as a reminder of the 24 hours i spent in a cult.

any other journalists with stories about failed stories?

* in other news, i shot a gallery of the state fair yesterday. here it is.