Snowflake Challenge - Day 13
Jan. 13th, 2017 08:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pronkerDay 13
In your own space, write about a moment in fandom that meant a lot to you. Leave a comment in this post saying you did it. Include a link to your post if you feel comfortable doing so.
Easy peasy. Bjo Trimble began a letter-writing campaign in early 1968 to Save Star Trek and somehow my friend the Superfan discovered it. She was the one who scribbled reams of Star Trek fanfic collaborations from us all onto legal pads and who came up, honestly, with stuff like plots while the rest of us supplied the longing sighs over Shatner, et al.
Superfan, who later became my first apartment roommate, was more smarter, more fannish, more dating-ish, more social-ish, just more. She organized our clique of five fourteen year-olds into writing letters to NBC during our almost-weekly sleepovers. There was one rollaway bed crammed into the average suburban 11x14 foot bedroom that already contained two twin beds, but somehow we managed to get close to 20 minutes of solid sleep on Friday nights with two per twin and one lucky in the rollaway. Of course, we slept in and My Second Mom, who had owned a bakeshop along with her ex-Navy cook husband, prepared pancakes and all sorts of goodies for us the next morning every time. Loved that family. Still do, after 59 years of friendship.
Er, back on track. That moment of fannish glory, added to the fact that there was a Season Three for Star Trek and what we did worked, was empowering.
In your own space, write about a moment in fandom that meant a lot to you. Leave a comment in this post saying you did it. Include a link to your post if you feel comfortable doing so.
Easy peasy. Bjo Trimble began a letter-writing campaign in early 1968 to Save Star Trek and somehow my friend the Superfan discovered it. She was the one who scribbled reams of Star Trek fanfic collaborations from us all onto legal pads and who came up, honestly, with stuff like plots while the rest of us supplied the longing sighs over Shatner, et al.
Superfan, who later became my first apartment roommate, was more smarter, more fannish, more dating-ish, more social-ish, just more. She organized our clique of five fourteen year-olds into writing letters to NBC during our almost-weekly sleepovers. There was one rollaway bed crammed into the average suburban 11x14 foot bedroom that already contained two twin beds, but somehow we managed to get close to 20 minutes of solid sleep on Friday nights with two per twin and one lucky in the rollaway. Of course, we slept in and My Second Mom, who had owned a bakeshop along with her ex-Navy cook husband, prepared pancakes and all sorts of goodies for us the next morning every time. Loved that family. Still do, after 59 years of friendship.
Er, back on track. That moment of fannish glory, added to the fact that there was a Season Three for Star Trek and what we did worked, was empowering.
