Tuesday, February 16, 2010

There...done 1st draft of my DW story...

...which is still lacking a title. And is about 40 words over 2500. This writing of "Doctor Who" stuff is actually quite fun. Now I want to do another 2500 word one while I let the one I just finished sit for a couple of weeks before I revise and submit it. I'd need to be careful not to repeat myself. Maybe adopt a completely silly tone and use the 4th Doctor. (For the current story, I had Doctors 7 and 8, each of them travelling alone).

Bah. No. You know you're just putting off other things you're supposed to be doing... Go do them first, and then come back and talk about writing another DW story.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Happy Year of the Tiger!

I can't believe it's the year of the Tiger again. Gah! Well, never mind, happy Valentine's day anyway!

So I've done 2 out of 5 scenes I've planned for my Doctor Who short story. The very short one, with very short scenes. Heh. 2500 words is nothing. Obviously, we all did more than that in one day during NaNoWriMo. But to fit a whole story in, that takes more careful thought and planning, at least for me. (I know some people can dash something brilliant off in a mad stream of consciousness, but I'm not one of them.)

About 500 words per scene. Damn! This is going to be difficult.

Well, here's one of the two I wrote so far. I'll post it up here so I have something to stare blankly at while I think about the rest.


"What can I get you, sir?" The boy couldn't help but stare at the stranger, because he had never seen anyone as strange as this: featherless and pale, covered in heavy white clothes unmarked by clan insignia and wearing a barbarian's hat. A furled umbrella leaned against his chair. The boy wondered why he needed an umbrella when he already had a hat.

"Ah, hello!" The man smiled, doffing the hat. "I'll be having one of your famous hravelberry pastries. The best in the galaxy, so I've heard."

"Right away, sir." It didn't take long to fetch the plate from the kitchen, but the man wasn't at the table anymore.

He was standing at the window, staring up at the sky. He spoke in a low, urgent voice, without turning around. "It's wrong. All wrong. Can't you hear it?"

"Hear what?" asked the boy, unsure what to do with the plate. "Sir, I have your order..."

"They're coming. The TARDIS... must return to the TARDIS." The man turned and glared fiercely at the boy, then hurried out the door. Once outside, he broke into a run, one hand clapped over his hat.

On impulse, the boy ran after him, still holding the plate. "Hey! Wait!"

The man disappeared into a tall, blue shed on the side of the road. The boy was surprised to see it, as it hadn't been there that morning. Even so, he knocked on what he guessed to be the door. "Sir? Your order..."

The door opened. "No. Not order. Chaos! Pure chaos."

The hooked handle of the umbrella caught the boy around the elbow. He cried out in surprise, dropping his plate, but the man dragged him into the shed before he could recover. He didn't even notice the doors shutting behind him. "But...but it's..."

"I know, I know, bigger on the inside," said the stranger. "I'm called the Doctor, by the way. Brace yourself."

"Why?" Even as the word left his mouth, the ground shuddered under him, throwing him to the floor, where he slid until his back hit a wall. From this unaccustomed angle, he watched the Doctor race around the central pillar, hands frantically working the controls of this strange machine. It must be a machine. No animal ever made such a hideous, grinding cry.

"No!" The Doctor slammed a fist into the controls. "Too late. They must have scented the TARDIS and jumped the timelines ahead of us. I'm too late. I've failed you, boy. All of you. I'm sorry."

Bewildered, the boy crawled to the doors. He couldn't find a handle, so he pried at the edges. "Please, let me out."

"I can't."

"But Cook will be missing me."

"No."

"Then I have to go home. My parents..."

"They're gone, too. I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Everyone?" The boy wasn't sure what he was asking, but something in the Doctor's voice filled him with horror.

"Everyone."

The boy was stunned. Unable to grasp it.

"Everyone. The whole planet. Millions of species. Now gone forever." His voice dropped, but the anger remained. "And they'll move on. Find another planet. And do it again. And again..."

"Can't you stop them?"

"Oh yes. I can stop them."

Friday, February 12, 2010

Here we go again...

More snow, more puppy (at least 2-3 more pounds of him, at a guess!), and another writing opportunity from Big Finish. This time it's for a 2500 word short story involving any of Doctors 1-8 and companions, but no old enemies or friends and nothing from the new series. 2500 words is pretty short. Difficult, but I'll do my best to have an actual story in it, because I prefer stories to random little vignettes.

What I have so far: I think it'll be something with the Eighth Doctor, alone, with a flashback to something he did in his previous incarnation. And it will have my Cute Fluffy Puppy...of DEATH! ... IN SPACE!!!. Yeah. And when you're as bad at plotting as I am, the thing to do is to steal a plot. So I'm stealing one from the Volsung Saga. It's obvious that the Doctor and his TARDIS are Fafnir. Isn't it? ISN'T IT!? And so the puppy must be Sigurd. Uh huh. Hey, where are you going? This makes sense. Honestly! But that all falls apart when Fafnir decides he needs to have a chat with Regin. Erm. Yeah.

What I don't have yet...a title! Argh! I need a title! And words that are in the story, as opposed to words written all around the edges of the story describing what I want to be in the story!