On going viral when you live a small town
This is a story about what happens when the virtual and real worlds meet
Last September, a national newspaper ran a story about a 32 year old woman from London who moved to a small town in Devon and felt conflicted. Although she had more time, money and energy, she feared she wouldn’t meet a romantic partner there who shared her life vision. Or indeed any partner at all, as there are just 10,000 residents. Disclaimer: the woman in the story is me. Or kind of.
It was the version of my current experience that the editor requested and it felt true for the two hours it took to write the thing. On another day or for another audience I could have written the same piece from an entirely different angle: it could have been a land-based love story, or about being young and single in the worst housing crisis in history; it might have focused on the unique connection and scrutiny that comes from living in a small community compared to a big city.
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However, those stories were not the ones that I was being offered £300 to write. So I knocked out 1,000 words on the difficulties of dating in the countryside and thought no more about it. Just another day at the office. Except it wasn’t. As I walked home through the intimate green hills I’ve come to love, someone stopped and asked if I had written the article that was being shared on all the community forums. This must have been a rhetorical question, because the picture of my face at the top of the piece is cropped in so closely they’ve actually cut off the bottom of my chin.
I usually write features exploring the impact of ecotourism on small communities. This story got a bigger reaction than all the pieces I’ve penned in the last 11 years combined. It seems that readers don’t want to be told how to go on holiday in a more ethical way. They’d much rather get the juice on what it’s like to be single.
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Far from becoming yesterday’s chip paper, the ripples of the piece seemed to only widen with time. My Instagram account was viewed by 29,000 people in a week. Six radio stations got in touch requesting interviews. 277 men slid into my DMs, many commenting on my appearance. Many more tracked down my personal whatsapp and email. One began by saying ‘I don't mean to sound like a preachy twat but…’ and went on to explain everything I had misunderstood about love.
Although I rent a room in a house shared with three other people, the article was held up locally as proof that young Londoners coming to town are the reason house prices are going up so fast. In the cinema, a grizzled, beardy man repeatedly tried to catch my eye so he could shake his head. Many, many people shared their opinion in far from flattering social media comments. Several stopped me in the street to give me a ‘piece of their mind’.
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It has been several months since the piece was published and I continue to ride waves of shame, anxiety, surprise – and curiosity. Fundamentally my work is about how people change places and places change people. There’s no doubt that I have been changed by sharing this story in this place. Exactly how remains to be seen. And I also want to take responsibility for the part I play in this place’s story. Not so much in the minds of the people – ultimately we can never control how we’re received – but by the ancient yew trees and green hills and stretch of the river where a seal often plays.
Because this whole experience feels too surreal for me to grapple with much more at this stage, I’ll end by rubbing an imaginary lamp and asking a genie to grant three wishes. May we all surrender to whatever form of self expression burns through us while being aware that what we create becomes part of the land we live in. May we look to nature to remind us that a thing and its opposite are often contained within the same entity in equal measure.
And may we at least aspire to collective kindness. We’re all doing this life thing for the first time, after all.
This month’s recommendations
Travelling I’m writing this on my balcony in Guanajuato, Mexico while eating pan de elote and listening to the basilica’s bells toll. My favourite project so far from this region is Via Organica, a beautiful organic farm and school in the arid hills outside San Miguel de Allende. It’s a great place to volunteer, do a farm stay or just visit to feast in their organic restaurant.
Reading Braiding Sweet Grass (Milkweed Editions) is a sensitive, sacred study of plants from Ptawatomi professor, Robin Wall Kimmerer. Kimmerer combines Indigenous origin stories with botany and the lessons she has learned from a life spent roving the Great Lakes to remind us of all we can learn from the more than human – if we remember how to listen.
Learning Over the last few weeks I have been lucky enough to preview a new program from King’s University, the ESG Programme for Hospitality Leaders. The modules we’ve completed so far are around green finance, redefining what value and cost mean in a business in the climate crisis, as well as why the hospitality sector is particularly at risk of stranded assets due to climate change.
On my desk this month
Lots of people get in touch asking how being a professional writer works, so I thought I’d share a little here. Although my passion is writing journalistic features about community-led tourism, I frequently take on projects outside this remit to diversify my income.
- Writing a feature about how Mexico City’s cafes support the queer community for an online magazine.
- Reporting an as yet uncommissioned story about how women in Guanajuato, Mexico preserve the area’s culinary traditions. It’s my first time collaborating with photographer Leandro Bulzanno and so far his pictures are looking HOT.
- Finishing a copywriting project for a beautiful eco-resort in Cambodia which recently achieved BCorp status.
- Spending time pitching a story about the floating farms in Xochimilco, the ancient canal system built by the Olmecs more than 3,000 years ago outside Mexico City.
My stories elsewhere
From magazine articles to social media
Driven by change: the women redefining India’s iconic Golden Triangle route, Escapism
Of course, you can always buy my book
The Ethical Traveller: 100 Ways To Roam The World Without Ruining It
I hope this month’s journey is smooth and the wind is at your back. Thank you for being here.
Love Imogen
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