I usually find writing the Intrepid Trio as adults, Freddy primarily, much easier. I can put them in whatever scenarios I like and not feel weird about it. (Not just the … er, romantic aspects but how they process their emotions and handle stuff). It’s been so long since I was a teenager, I wouldn’t even know how to write one anymore.
That being said … that episode was a passion project. I guess all these stories are. But that one, in particular, I remember it being the first time I was fully obsessed. I was about thirteen, I think (I have edited it a lot since then, but that was when I first wrote it), and I would sit and write for hours in that world. My mom thought I was wasting my time. She always told me that I needed to get my head out of the clouds. I tended to be fantastical as a kid. The episodes with Nix felt so unfinished. The show writers set up this perfect opportunity to give Freddy more depth and become more than just comic relief, but they totally pulled the punch. I know it’s all so silly to people outside the TF bubble, but it felt like he was robbed. I couldn’t move on until I wrote it. That story is basically canon to me at this point. I forget sometimes that the show never dealt with his trauma.
Anyway, that’s why I wrote it. I wanted Freddy to be a fully formed adult and get the happy ending he deserved.
That was probably more than you wanted to know, but there you go. Thank you for saying that the writing was as good as the show. I promise not to tell them whenever we hang out. ;p
Best,
Kate
* * *
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: RE: Real Life is Lame
Attachment:TemporaryHome.jpeg
Kate,
On your advice, I have decided to keep the chickens for now. You’re right, it’s just too risky. I need to ensure they aren’t separated, or heaven forbid *whispering*made into chicken nuggets. Actually, they remind me a bit of my two best mates and me sometimes. Adam seems to be running the show. Lucy has already started to warm up to me. She wobbles up to me anytime I walk in the room and lets me scratch her tiny little head. Freddy … Freddy keeps running into the wall. I think she may have knocked her head once or twice, but she’s very affectionate and even now is sleeping in my lap. Poor little lady.
Hard to believe these descended from terrifying dinosaurs, especially when they have trouble finding their way out of an open shoe box. They have been upgraded to a homemade pen with heat lamp and a little bed made of cozy wood chips. Eventually, I will move them to the outside coop I’m building.
Thank you for sharing about your first story ever. I can just picture tiny little Kate, journaling away, tongue sticking out in concentration as she wrote. I’m glad you grew up with your head “in the clouds.” I suspect that’s exactly why you’re so good at what you do. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a writer. A lot of perfectly respectable people are authors. It’s not so fantastical. That story was perfect and hard to fathom you originally wrote it at such a young age. Even more evidence that you were destined to be an author. I wish we could go back in time and have you write for the show. (Even though I do very much enjoy the grown-up stories you tell too. I think “Little Black Dresses and Little White Lies” may be my favorite.)
So, tell me about this space opera novel of yours. And yes, I did have to look up what that was.
RC (I am sticking with this name for now.)
6
Sixteen Months Ago
Kate
“Is he flirting?”I paced my small apartment, mumbling to myself. “Am I flirting?” I looked in the mirror, cheeks flushed and eyes glinting in excitement. Was it just me or did I look prettier, lighter? I would not start singing bits ofWest Side Storyjust because he complimented me. Tons of strangers compliment me and my writing online all the time, but none of them seemed to impact me like RC does.
I hummed as I got ready for work.I do feel pretty. Dammit, I earwormed myself.
RC said that one of my most popular, and probably not a coincidence, the most erotic pieces I have ever written was his favorite. He wouldn’t have mentioned that if he wasn’t trying to flirt, right?
It was times like these I was noticeably lacking in friendships I could discuss romantic sort of things with. I purposely closed myself off from work relationships because I had never thought I would last there. My friends from college were at different stages in life and very busy. I had friends online, but none of them I talked to regularly enough to warrant the level of deep dive that I needed to analyze these exchanges.
What did friends get you anyway? Just look at Julius Caesar.
My exchanges with RC had quickly become my favorite part of my day.
There was a voice in my head, sounding suspiciously like my mother, that warned me I was moving too fast. Making something from nothing. Had I come on too strong, too soon, sharing my real name and social media? But those details weren’t a secret, and RC absolutely emailed me back all the time. Nothing felt one-sided. We had a repartee going. It felt like this was the start of something.
This was why I wasn’t on any dating apps. It was too hard to read people on a screen.
Not that this was even … not that he even …
I groaned out loud again. But I felt like the flirting was there. What I needed was some sort of forensic expert to analyze it.
