Thirteen

When I was thirteen, I was a nerd.  A huuuuge nerd.  Not that that’s a shock to anyone here.

I was friends with another girl who was also a huge nerd.  She was such a nerd that I even looked just barely cool in comparison.  But not by much.  It’s like comparing Uranus and Neptune and saying that one’s closer than the other.  Maybe so, but they’re both still a frigging long way away.  (And there we are with the nerdy analogy.  See?  Nerdnerdnerdy McNerdnick.)

All that being said, we loved Star Trek.  Astonishing, I know.  Star Trek was our “thing” for months.  We loved it so much that we wrote reams of what I know now to be fanfic.  We, of course, deluded little souls that we were, were going to submit it to Paramount because surely they’d see the genius in it and use our screenplay.  Riiight.  Of course they would.  To our parents’ credit, they didn’t rain on our parade.  We worked on this thing tirelessly.  Evenings.  Weekends.  At sleepovers.  Over slurpees at the quickiemart.

We finally mailed it in sometime in the spring, and lo and behold we had a letter a few weeks later.  (A small envelope – hadn’t yet cottoned on to the “small envelope = rejection” concept.)  We waited until we could both open it, and inside was a really quite cordially written form letter, thanking us for our interest but they couldn’t possibly use our work as we weren’t on their contracted writing staff.  We were crushed, naturally, but we had a great time doing it, and learned amazing amounts about writing in the process.  Not that you’d know it to read this nonsense, obviously.

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One Comment on “Thirteen”

  1. The Spinster Says:

    I still love Star Trek. Yep, I admit it. Whatever, I am #1 on my Cool List!

    (and I still say ‘cool’ and ‘awesome’)
    Welcome to Nerdapalooza.


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