I've been writing about Campbell, Alabama, since I was twenty years old. I created the name, found it on a map in the South, and stuck with it. I invented everything about this town. The street names, the environment, the size of the trees and the feel of a warm summer night. The sunsets. The ghosts and whispers that haunt you from the woods. The mom and pop market on the corner that always has fresh baked bread. The only bar in town two blocks away from the only church in town because that's just the kind of town it was. 

When I met with my senior advisor, she asked me if I was from Campbell. I said no, I wasn't Southern. Did I seem Southern? And she said, no. It's just that you write about Campbell like you've been there all your life. 

I think I have. In my mind, maybe my dreams. I created people in this town, people only I know, people with secrets and hopes and fears and vices. 

At some point before I decided to set my script in Campbell, I did a little research on the town, just to see what came up. And the beauty of film (specifically suspension of disbelief) is that the writer has complete control over what the audience knows. If the town's name is insignificant to the story, set it anywhere. Can you name the town that Holly lives in when Kit meets her in the beginning of Badlands? All you know is that they're in South Dakota. All we know is that it's a rundown, simple kind of town, a place where a rebellious bad boy could love a sweet impressionable teenager because that's all Terrence Mallick wanted us to know.  

So why set mine in Campbell? Why make that a conscious part of my story? Once I had decided on that name, I couldn't shake it. But my research was beginning to diminish my original fabricated idea of what Campbell looked and smelled and felt like.  

Facts about Campbell:
It's located in the South West part of the state. It has an elevation of 95 feet. 

This is what Campbell looks like on Google maps. 

This is a street view of Campbell on Google maps. 

Campbell is most likely the size of four city blocks in Los Angeles. According to Wiki, Campbell is an unincorporated community in Clarke County, Alabama, which basically means it's like Echo Park. Except out in Alabama, it's the fucking boonies. 

Facts about Clarke County:

• Clark County was created by the legislature of the Mississippi Territory in 1812. 
• At the 2010 census, the population of Clarke County was 25,833.
• The County has a total area of 1,252.51 square miles. 1.13% of that area is water.
• In 2000, the population density was 22 people per square mile. Whites made up 54.5% of the population. Blacks made up 43.9%. The median income for a family was $34,546. For a household (meaning single family, other) was $27,388. About 18% of families and 26% of the population were below the poverty line.

I didn't know any of this information when I started writing about Campbell. In my head, Campbell was like any other Southern town I had imagined: equally white and black, rural, white washed wood houses and sprawling flat fields. Picket fences on people's yards. Trucks on the unpaved roads. And swamps. Lots and lots of swamps. Swamps you could drown in. 

This is what a swamp/pond looks like in Clarke County. 

My first story took place in the past, 1970s. It was a fictitious memoir of a woman remembering the year her brother died. He drowned in a lake. I never finished the story. 

The next time I used Campbell was for Goldfish, the script I wrote two years ago. My protagonist goes there to find a recluse musician who's hiding there. But guess what, that's where she's from, and that's where her mom lives. She's forced to face her mother, and ultimately forgive herself for the death of her brother at a young age, which is the stem of their discord. But will she get the interview that saves her job? 

On an early draft of my script, I had someone advise me to create some kind of ghost in Campbell, not literally, but a haunting device used to reinstate the protagonists absolute aversion to the town. This "ghost" could also act as as a source of fear, a reminder of fear, or the literal immobilizing fear that prevents the character from evolving. What could I create for Campbell? 

Olivia is home alone when her brother, six years old, drowns in the bathtub (more drowning). Olivia sees him under the water. His eyes bright, open. And then she realizes - the story she's been telling him is about a fish that never dies. Goldfish. Just like that. 

But is that pushing it? 

My exercise for the week. And more Campbell research. 

The end.