So… the short version of this blog post? I have had a wild few days and the result is this article I wrote for Den of Geek about the new Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous Netflix series:
https://www.denofgeek.com/tv/how-camp-cretaceous-connects-to-the-jurassic-world-canon/
Yes, really. I did that.
The long version?
You ever think about what you would say if you could go back in time and talk to yourself as a child?
Assume there's a team of time travelers working with you to make sure you don't actually ruin the timeline or change anything. The only thing that will change is that Child You will go through life with one little piece of information about their future. Won't affect anything except they we will have the reassurance that [insert thing here] will happen.
I could tell little Jen that she escapes the abuse. That she's safe now. But I wouldn't want her to realize it was abuse any sooner than she has to because I want her to live in obliviousness as long as she can. Those months of knowing it was bad but not being able to fix it, she doesn't need a lifetime of that.
I could tell her that she becomes a published author and people actually buy her stories. But she was impatient. I think it would frustrate her more, knowing she had to wait 15 more years to find success.
And I could tell her about all the friends she has in the future. That one day, she will have people she considers family, who she trusts with her life and with her heart. But she didn't really want friends, and some of my best friends now are guys and she would think that's weird.
I don't know when I will be able to announce this, but I am writing this blog post on September 15, 2020. And it's today. Today is the day I would tell her about.
It is not the best day of my life. Not even close. Not even the best day of my writing career. But it is the day that would mean most to her.
Young Jen Rossman was obsessed with Jurassic Park. Obsessed. She would watch it from beginning to end, rewind it and watch it again. Every day. Multiple times a day. She had a crush on Dr. Malcolm before she properly understood what a crush was. She briefly insisted on being called Lex, after John Hammond's granddaughter. She became a writer because she couldn't physically be a paleontologist.
And if I could go back in time and tell her one thing to give her peace of mind that her future would be okay, it is this:
"When you're 30, you're going to know an editor who is going to put you in contact with someone from a magazine that gets 10 million readers a month. And they are going to ask you to write an article about a new Jurassic Park tie-in show. And you're going to get to watch it before it officially comes out. You might not be a paleontologist, you might not be a world famous author like everyone tells you you're going to be. But you are going to be a good enough writer, and you are going to be passionate enough about dinosaurs, that you are going to see a piece of Jurassic Park media before most of the world has a chance."
It is now September 17, 2020. Little after 7 PM. I just finished watching the show. The rest of the world doesn't get to see it until tomorrow. And I want to cry again because my name is going to be on one of the first articles about this show on a website millions of people visit every month.
I'm a part of this. A very small part, which I am sharing with I don't know how many other people who have been asked to write about it for I don't know how many media outlets.
But a new piece of Jurassic Park media is coming out tomorrow, and I am one of the people who got to see it early. I am one of the people who gets to tell the world "Welcome to Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous."
I am probably sharing this honor with hundreds or thousands of people, and my imposter syndrome is telling me that means it's not a big deal. But it is. Professionally and personally.
I probably sound so overdramatic, but no matter what else happens in my life, I will be able to remember what it felt like to send my dad a screenshot of me being on a page on the Netflix website directing members of the media to login below, and telling him "Your daughter is a member of the media."
I will be able to remember telling my friend Corey that the show is good, him saying he would check it out, and the look on his face when he realized what I meant when I said "Well, you'll have to wait till Friday." (He literally stopped what he was doing and stared at me and said "Wait, YOU GET TO SEE IT EARLY?")
I will be able to remember the magic of sharing a secret with the most important franchise in my life. Of having a little part of it that was just for me, just for a little while.
I have notes about the show. In a few minutes, when I get my emotional shit together, those notes will become an article explaining how Camp Cretaceous fits into the timeline and universe of the other movies. Tomorrow I will submit my article, and tomorrow the show releases to the rest of the world.
But right now, before I remember I have to be professional and actually write this thing so I can get paid, right now I am not allowed to share this show or any details about it. Right now, I am letting myself sit here in the dark with my eyes closed, laughcrying because experience was all mine. I didn't have to share it with anyone.
It is now September 18, 2020. My article went up a little while ago. I think it's good. I think I want to write more things like this.
I can't even think right now to put it into words how bizarre the last few days of my life I've been. I am exhausted. I don't ever watch TV shows just for fun; I am a writer, and I analyze stuff. But for this one I have pages upon pages of notes. I did research. I stayed up until 11 PM last night finishing and submitting my article.
I’m getting paid to watch TV and write about my favorite franchise in the entire world. How wild is that.