When Pop Culture Came to Forks, Washington

If Forks Can Break Into Pop Culture, Maybe Your Town Can Too

I was born in Forks, Washington, a sleepy logging town with a population of about 3,000. For most of my life, Forks didn’t mean anything to anyone. When asked about my childhood, I used to skip the detail about the town name and simply say I was born in the middle of a rainforest—the Hoh Rainforest. That was the one piece of trivia that made my birthplace sound interesting.

But then something crazy happened. My little birthtown became world famous. What could possibly make a tiny, middle-of-nowhere town become a household name overnight? Did a religious cult move into the town? Did Apple open a headquarters there?

Of all things, it was, in fact, a romance novel—with vampires. It was called Twilight.

Stories are incredibly powerful. Everyone knows this instinctively. The problem is that this power is not easy to wield. Imagine if this were otherwise. Every small-town mayor in the country could easily boost tourism simply by contracting a fantasy novelist to write a novel with scenes taking place in the town.

In reality, for every Twilight-style blockbuster, there are thousands upon thousands of novels published that result in zero impact on the real world.

The New York Times recently highlighted how state governments spend outrageous amounts of money subsidizing Hollywood productions. Over the past two decades, 38 states have spent over $25 billion for this purpose. These incentive programs are intended to stimulate local economies. Film crews hire locals and inject cash into nearby business. However, according to the Times, “The problem is, the programs are actually huge money losers for states. Studies show that these efforts typically return a quarter or even a dime on every dollar given to studios.”

There’s something missing in this analysis, however. There’s the fact that the benefits from art can’t all be captured in monetary terms. Art can grant a location with a mystique that’s virtually priceless. Often, art is the only association people ever have with a place. For example, I know nothing about Lincoln, Nebraska, but I know that Saddle Creek Records (Bright Eyes, Rilo Kiley, etc.) is there. Maybe Lincoln never made a dime off these bands. Even so, every person in Lincoln gets to benefit vicariously from the cool factor of living in the city where loads of influential indie bands have recorded.

Where I currently live in Sacramento, I love that Joan Didion grew up down the street from me. I love that William T. Vollmann calls this city home. I love that Tom Hanks studied acting here. I love that Paul Thomas Anderson and Leonardo DiCaprio were just downtown working on a new film. Day to day, I care more about things like the quality of the local bars and restaurants, the tree canopy, and the two rivers flowing through the city; but when I think about what it means to live in Sacramento, the cultural references take on an oversized significance.

Culture is its own type of currency. When a sufficient number of cultural moments have taken place in a specific city, it’s guaranteed that city will never die. Think of Memphis, Tennessee. It’s not a tech hub, or a finance hub, or a place where much of anything happens. But it will always have Beale Street, Sun Records, and Graceland.

It may be true that local governments shouldn’t bankrupt themselves in order to attract Hollywood producers. But they should invest in supporting the arts. They should make it easy for developers to build artist lofts, or for small business owners to open book stores, art galleries, and recording studios. They should host music festivals and film festivals.

Even though it’s impossible to recreate the Twilight phenomenon on a whim, it is possible to encourage a culture of art and creativity.