A Coffee and Some Words Friday
615,161. That is how many words I have written over the years as a NaNoWriMo participant. And I am hoping to add more to that tally this year.
I love stories – good stories – be they ones that make me laugh or cry or think (or do all that and more). They can be on the page, on a movie or TV screen, on an electronic device. If it’s good, if it gets my attention, I’m there. I’m in.
I try to tell good stories, too. Participating in NaNoWriMo has helped me in that endeavour. I’m not the most skilled wordsmith … but I’m not terrible, either. And it’s true, the cliché of practice making perfect. Or, at least, it makes one better.
I’m currently working on wrapping up a fan fiction story I started, oh, a while ago (2009 isn’t too terribly long ago, right?) before I start preparing for NaNoWriMo 2016 (Ze Book – round 3?). It involves characters from the American TV series House, M.D. and the British TV series Doctor Who. To date there are three chapters to the story you can read online; I’m a bit embarrassed to see I last posted an update six years ago. Goodness! But I do have a fourth chapter completed and an epilogue is in the works. Both will be posted once the epilogue is complete.
As a way of keeping myself on track to getting this tale properly done, I thought I’d share a snippet of what I have in the works. I need this extra measure – this last part is proving to be a bit difficult to sort out. I blame the two leads. They’re notoriously stubborn. So I hope you don’t mind terribly being plunked right down in the middle of something because, well, I’m going to jump right in here. Though I do hope you enjoy it in some fashion at least.
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A Tale of Two Doctors: Chapter Four Sneak Peek
One minute the Doctor had been assuring his travelling companion – a fiery ginger in both hair colour and personality by the name of Donna Noble – that the United Kingdom as a whole (and London in particular) indeed did not have a giant “kick me” sign on its collective backside serving as a beacon for invading alien races everywhere. The next he was being smacked upside the head while being called a “stupid, stupid prawn” and spilling his tea.
“Hey now,” he sputtered as Donna settled back in her seat in the TARDIS’ neatly appointed kitchen, her arms folded across her chest. “That,” he pointed at the puddle beside his saucer, “that is a waste of a perfectly fine cup of tea.” He pulled a paper napkin from the silver dispenser on the table laid out for afternoon tea and mopped up the still-warm liquid. Once done, he chucked the napkin in the bin to his right and leaned back in his own seat across from Donna.
“I’m sorry,” Donna said, refilling the Doctor’s tea cup. “About the tea, that is.” She smiled with a decidedly sarcastic air at the him, holding up her hand as he drew in a breath to resume speaking. “No,” she said, “stop.” The Doctor’s mouth clamped shut seemingly of its own accord. “Explain to me, Doctor,” she continued, “how you could tell a man you could heal his leg but you wouldn’t because of the supposedly great future ahead of him, and then leave him without even a proper goodbye or an explanation of what had happened? Sometimes I think you have so much stuffed into your brain all common sense and courtesy long ago shoved off.” She let out a little huff of air as she took the last chocolate biscuit, dunking it in her own cup of tea.
Yes, in order to assuage Donna’s concerns about England not being “the go to place” for alien invasions, the Doctor had told her about his meeting with a brilliant doctor from the United States with whom he had briefly crossed paths during Earth’s 2009 Christmas season. And rather than be pleased at the fact a Christmas alien invasion (as peaceable as it had been) happened somewhere other than her backyard, Donna had latched onto his mention of leaving the man who had helped him on a lift, skipping right over his immediate return (relatively speaking) to the almost-doctor Martha Jones who had saved his life. He really shouldn’t have mentioned the bit about House’s leg to Donna. Or to House, for that matter. Sometimes he was athick thickety-thick thick face. And other times it was the fault of the people who needed to be shown he wasn’t simply full of hot air and nonsense. Because, really, it was all rather tiring having to find the right balance between not getting too full of himself while letting the skeptics know he wasn’t just some bloke in a nice suit with a mouth full of clever riddles.
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