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[1/6] When I interviewed for BA/MD program at age 17, I sat in the lobby with a bunch of genius kids who were all talking about their biochem research. I was a kid who wrote stories; fanfiction to be exact. I figured there was no way I’d be getting in, so might as well have fun.
[2/6] The interviewer surprised me by asking about my stories. In previous Ivy schools etc, it was obvious they just saw my application that day, but it was clear this guy had actually read it. I wasn’t sure why he was asking; I had expected to talk about grades and science.
[3/6] We had a nice chat about Harry Potter. Because I wasn’t trying to impress him, I wasn’t even formal, doing stupid stuff like slapping the table and laughing like an idiot. The program took 5 out of 600 applicants, and I thought, ‘yeah, no way in hell.’
[4/6] When interview ended, it was raining. My mom asked if I wanted to go on campus tour. I said “no, there’s no way I’m getting in here. Let’s go home.” A few weeks later, an envelope arrived. It was skinny. And in the US, we all know what skinny envelopes mean: rejection.
[5/6] But when I opened it, it said I had been accepted and to expect more info soon. I was shocked. It turned out that my interviewer was interested in the psychology of narrative. 4 years later, that person, Dr. Gerrig, became my thesis advisor.
[6/6] The moral: you have no idea what fate has in store. I was rejected from all but one Ivy. As I prepare to return as the Grand Rounds speaker to the school that saw something unusual in me, I think of this story. Keep telling your stories. You never know who might listen. :) 
