“Do what you love, the rest comes…it’s true, it really works like that.”

Editor’s intro: inspired by the below? Support grassroots, independent woman-created film by clicking over to Kickstarter and becoming part of the team. I’m posting this fun-raiser here, Allie didn’t post it or ask me to do so. Skip below to read her article. ~ ed.

Original article follows:

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Making the conscious choice of what (and even who) is in our lives.

Sitting in a tiny closet with walls covered floor to celling in foam and blankets, I turned off the lamp that was the only source of light in this three by three foot space.  The door was closed and I didn’t know if it was the heat from the lamp or my nerves but 2 minutes in and I was already sweating. I sat there in the dark, unaware of the sound of a garbage truck outside. Silence… I opened my computer, looked at the words on the screen, tried to remember the tone I wanted to use, swallowed hard and waited for Pete to tell me to start.

Today I narrated my first film.

Once I got past cringing at hearing my “dora the explorer” voice through the speakers, and became aware of my total lack of annunciating, things went relatively smoothly.  When we were past any mumbling issues, I would say a line, Pete and my business partner Sarah would see if it worked with the footage, and then it was placed in the film’s sound design. BAM. Next line.

Sarah and I had worked on this narration for hours. No… Weeks.  There were times when I looked up at her in my tiny airstream home (a little bit bigger then the narration closet) and thought – wow, its sunny outside (which is not too often in February in Portland) and this woman has been here for hours in this 23 foot aluminum can with me passionately discussing whether or not we should use the word “home” or “community”.

Sarah dedicated her time and heart to making this film happen, and she knew, like I did, it was important to get every word right.  Because what we were crafting was not only a story, but a poem.

Last November I was lucky enough to attend a filmmakers workshop at the Banff Mountain Film  and Book Festival.  I connected with other filmmakers, of all levels of experience, and we were able to share our stories and ask questions that are simply not answerable on an online forum or website.

During the last day of the workshop, we were able to sit one-on-one with the instructors Keith Partridge and Micheal Brown.  At this point, I had been in post production of 23 Feet since September, but felt lost in where the story was going.  The film holds some of the most powerful of personal stories from people who I have come to care deeply for.  Stories of loneliness, fear, passion, and defiance.  I was fearful that I wouldn’t do it all justice.  That the audience wouldn’t understand, and would get the wrong idea about the lifestyle I was trying to capture.  I lost sleep and stayed up all hours of the night terrified that I would let these people and their stories down, and that I would not be able to tell their stories well, if at all.

I sat down with Michael and I told him where I was at.  Michael smiled at me, he had seen the trailer, but more importantly, he had known these stories.  He told me one simple thing that I will never forget, and it has now adopted not only into my practice of storytelling, but the way I live my life.

He said – Its a poem.

He went on to explain that when you write a poem, you are not putting in any thing in the poem that does’t need to be there.  You are choosing your words precisely, describing only what is necessary to convey the story.

Then it clicked.  All this time I had been trying to fit it all in.  I was striving to give the most objective, all inclusive view, a silver platter serving of a glimpse into lifestyle I was hoping people would tread lightly on.

I suddenly realized what was right in front of me.

I held the opportunity to tell the story of six amazing people striving after their outdoor passions without a care for a stereotype. Not asking for permission and unafraid of going against the grain, they were living their lives with no apologies – a conscious poem.

So, why would I do them the disservice of sugar coating it for the audience?  We made a film about Dirtbags.  There.  I said it. DIRTBAGS.  (look here for more information about what a dirtbag is) and dirtbags only need the essentials to live fully, just like a poem.

After my focus turned to crafting the poem of the film, I started to think about this conscious poem idea in other aspects of my life.  Sure, the last year I have made it my resolution to live more simply and cut out what I don’t need, but it all had to do with material objects, energy, or waste.  I wanted to start choosing the emotional aspects of my life just as consciously as the words in a poem, or in the material things I let in my 23 foot home.  Crating a poem of the things I wanted in my own story, my own life.

When I said the last line of the narration I poked my head out of the sound room closet and light came flooding in.  The first thing I saw was Sarah sitting on the couch grinning ear to ear and nodding to say “that was a good take”. I smiled at her and my eyes welled up. I knew that we had finally finished the poem.  After almost a year of crafting this film, it all boiled down to this – and that was all that needed to be said.