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dbskylerSince I figure I should start posting links to my own fic on my own journal, I will start with the story I am fondest of, the story which pretty much single-handedly got me back into fanfic writing (and into fanfic writing for DW) by forcing itself into my head and demanding to be told. And, since part of the point of this journal is to be reflective about my own writing, I am going to post a bonus -- the first draft of the first words I ever wrote for the story, which are also the first words of DW fan fiction I ever wrote (yes, they came before the first story I ended up posting).
Title: Miles from Aberdeen
Rating: G
Characters: Sarah Jane Smith, Ten, Rose Tyler, Mickey Smith, Harry Sullivan, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart
Length: 7 chapters, 19,409 words
Spoilers: S2 of Doctor Who (especially School Reunion), Genesis of the Daleks, Brain of Morbius and Pyramids of Mars.
Summary: Getting left in Aberdeen requires Sarah to make more than one type of journey.
Story archived here: http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=19656
Here it is, the first draft of the first words for "Miles." This eventually turned into chapter 3, and while a few sentences here and there made it into the final version, the rest was heavily rewritten -- and you can see why. One of the issues is I began with the idea that the Doctor had become a stranger to Sarah, and that she would connect with him again in the chapter. But I changed that, because I decided I liked it much better to have the two of them still knowing each other and relating to each other as well as they used to, so that despite everything Sarah had gone through and everything she experiences during the course of the story, the relationship between the two of them remains fundamentally unchanged. Other than that, the outline of events in chapter 3 are pretty much here in this first draft. Some of the writing does make me cringe -- remember, it's a draft, this is what my drafts are like, now you know -- and yes, I know there are Americanisms in here, I am American and this is how it came out before editing (and by the way, I'm actually quite proud of myself for even thinking to question whether jumper cables are called something else in the UK). Comments, questions, and general pointing and laughing at bad writing are all welcome.
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Sarah rolled over on her bed, unable to sleep. She would have liked to convince herself that it was because of all the extra people in the room, but she was too old to be able to fool herself like that anymore. The problem was lying on a rollaway cot just a few feet away. The problem was the Doctor.
The Doctor. She still couldn't quite believe that she had found him again after all this time. For so many years she had dreamed of this reunion, but to have it happen like this . . . a chance encounter, the Doctor not even knowing she'd be there . . . it wasn't what she had dreamt at all. He hadn't come back for her. He hadn't even told her who he was when they first saw each other. And maybe he rathered that she hadn't been there at all. The last thought was the one that hurt the most.
She looked around her once-spacious hotel room, now crowded with extra cots. After she had discovered that the Doctor, Rose and Mickey hadn't planned yet where they were going to spend the night, she had offered to let them all crash with her at her hotel room. The Doctor had accepted on behalf of them all, although Rose had obviously been unhappy about the situation. Privately, Sarah had agreed with her; it was extremely awkward to have Rose here. If only the two of them had more in common, it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe then this would feel like a party instead of an imposition. And maybe then she wouldn't resent Rose for having what she herself had lost -- youth, energy, innocence, and the Doctor in her life.
Sarah rolled over again, away from that thought, away from the cot where Rose was sleeping. Rose was obviously close to the Doctor, she had to face that; perhaps, as painful as it was to think, as close as she and the Doctor had once been. But the girl was so young! Much younger than she herself had been when she first met the Doctor, so long ago. She had been an adult back then, a strong and independent woman, a professional journalist working on a story. Not a half-besotted teenager who obviously knew nothing yet about life. What was the Doctor doing with someone like that? And the worst part was, in this regeneration he actually looked an appropriate age for the girl. The two of them could hold hands on the street and never raise an eyebrow, while she and the Doctor . . . How could she have gotten so much older while he looked younger than ever? It wasn't fair. He'd been seven hundred and fifty years old when she knew him; he could be over a thousand by now. And yet he looked like that. It wasn't bloody fair.
Damn Time Lords, anyway. And he hadn't changed. Just like the Doctor not to think ahead to little mundane things such as where they were going to sleep. She knew that Mickey had arrived from London just a few hours ago, but she wondered where the Doctor and Rose had spent the previous night. In the TARDIS? In a different hotel? And if so, had they shared a room . . . perhaps shared a bed?
She wished she hadn't thought of that. Now she was definitely wide awake, no chance of getting back to sleep. As quietly as she could,she got out of bed and pulled on her clothes. She looked towards the rollaway cots, noting that the two dark shapes nearest her lay quiet, deep in sleep. Then she looked towards the third cot, the one nearest the door. She shook her head, smiling in spite of herself at how predictable he still was.
The cot was empty.
She found him at her car, fiddling with cables and K-9. She stood and watched him for a few minutes, searching for the familiar in his movements and mannerisms and failing to find it. She had been through this before, the disconcerting change in physical appearance and the even more disconcerting change in personality. She remembered how she had felt back then, how lost and alone and in grief for the old, until the new had proved with words and actions that he was, indeed, still the same person. A person she had come to care about.
Then with a small wax bag of Jelly Babies, he had shown how much he still cared about her in return.
And that had been the real start of it, the "it" between them that neither of them had ever quite figured out. But it had been precious and wonderful all the same.
And now he was different again, a stranger again. And this time, unlike the last time, he truly felt like a stranger. Back then, despite the outward changes, there had still been something underneath, a connection between the two of them. Even in the throes of his regeneration crisis, with the TARDIS in mid-dematerialization, he had responded to her voice and come back. But now, as she looked at this new Doctor before her, the connection they had used to have seemed gone. It was understandable, she supposed. Three decades had passed for her, and who knew how many centuries for him. Half-a-dozen regenerations, of stranger melting into stranger, moving ever farther away from the incarnations she had known. It was only natural that there should be nothing left between them. Especially now that he had Rose. Silently she watched him from the shadows, trying to convince herself that she was okay with that. That she could accept, and move on.
She knew that he was the Doctor, but in her heart he felt like a stranger. The connection between them was gone. Or perhaps her heart wasn't in a state to feel anything just now.
But at least her head was still working. It kept pouring memories at her; memories that warned her that despite the Doctor's brilliance and technological savvy, you couldn't always trust him when he came at something you valued while wielding his sonic screwdriver. When she saw him go for the hood of her car she finally just had to say something. "Would you mind telling me just what you're doing with my car, my dog and my jumper cables?"
He looked up, startled, and as he saw her she would almost say that he blushed. "Oh, hello Sarah." He stood up and took a step back, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Just trying to get a good charge into K-9. His batteries still aren't working properly, I expect because he's been out of commission for so long. Probably take a few days before his charging cycle is up to par again." Moving quickly, he went back to hooking up the cables. Belatedly he asked, "You don't mind if I use your car as an energy source, do you?"
"No, not since you have the courtesy to ask me before you mess around with my possessions . . . " She trailed off, feeling awkward. She hadn't meant to sound quite that sarcastic, but it didn't matter as he was obviously no longer paying attention to her anyway. With a final flourish, he finished the connections he'd been working on and pointed his sonic screwdriver at her engine.
Nothing happened. He frowned, then tried again.
"Something wrong, Doctor?"
He twisted some settings and aimed the sonic screwdriver at the engine yet again, but had no better results than before. Bemused, he stood over the engine and stared at it, one hand behind his head.
"Would you like to try using these?" asked Sarah, holding up her car keys.
"Regular combustion engine . . . no hyperbalic relays, no sign of a helmic interference coil . . . perhaps a remote induction circuit restricting the neutron flow?" he muttered. Without so much as a glance in her direction, he twisted the sonic screwdriver again and began scanning the surrounding area.
Sarah got into the driver's seat, shifted the car's gear, then turned the keys in the ignition. The engine roared into life. She got out and leaned against the door, smiling in triumph.
The Doctor stared at the running engine, then turned to her, amazed. "How did you do that?"
"The car won't start if the gear shift is in reverse. It's a safety feature." Her smile turned mischievous. "Perhaps I should stay on as your scientific advisor?"
He gave her a look -- and suddenly she felt warm all over, because it was the look, the rolled-eyes-and-half-smile combination that he had always used to give her when she'd successfully teased him. She began to laugh -- she couldn't help herself -- and then he began to laugh, too, and she exulted in the knowledge that they were once again on the same wavelength. He looked at her as if he too had been waiting for this moment, then suddenly he grabbed her and swung her into a close embrace. "Sarah," he said, "oh Sarah, you have no idea how much I've missed you." She looked into his eyes -- different eyes, the eyes of a stranger, but wearing an old friend's expression -- and she finally saw within them familiar depths.
"Have you really? she asked.
"Have I really what?"
"Missed me."
He looked at her, and ran one hand along the side of her face. "More than you know."
She longed to ask him then why on Earth -- or off of it -- he had never come back for her. But something about the way he held himself stopped her. There was a melancholy to him that he hadn't had back when she knew him. She had seen the Doctor grumpy, sulking, sad, irritated, frightened, and righteous with anger . . . but she had never sensed from him such a wellspring of grief before.
"Doctor . . . when you said before that everyone died . . ."
Abruptly, he released her, and stood staring out into the darkness. Never one to be put off from a confrontation, she came up behind him. She made no attempt to turn him around; she knew it would be easier for him to speak if he wasn't looking at her.
"What happened, Doctor? What happened to Gallifrey?"
Title: Miles from Aberdeen
Rating: G
Characters: Sarah Jane Smith, Ten, Rose Tyler, Mickey Smith, Harry Sullivan, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart
Length: 7 chapters, 19,409 words
Spoilers: S2 of Doctor Who (especially School Reunion), Genesis of the Daleks, Brain of Morbius and Pyramids of Mars.
Summary: Getting left in Aberdeen requires Sarah to make more than one type of journey.
Story archived here: http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=19656
Here it is, the first draft of the first words for "Miles." This eventually turned into chapter 3, and while a few sentences here and there made it into the final version, the rest was heavily rewritten -- and you can see why. One of the issues is I began with the idea that the Doctor had become a stranger to Sarah, and that she would connect with him again in the chapter. But I changed that, because I decided I liked it much better to have the two of them still knowing each other and relating to each other as well as they used to, so that despite everything Sarah had gone through and everything she experiences during the course of the story, the relationship between the two of them remains fundamentally unchanged. Other than that, the outline of events in chapter 3 are pretty much here in this first draft. Some of the writing does make me cringe -- remember, it's a draft, this is what my drafts are like, now you know -- and yes, I know there are Americanisms in here, I am American and this is how it came out before editing (and by the way, I'm actually quite proud of myself for even thinking to question whether jumper cables are called something else in the UK). Comments, questions, and general pointing and laughing at bad writing are all welcome.
--------------
Sarah rolled over on her bed, unable to sleep. She would have liked to convince herself that it was because of all the extra people in the room, but she was too old to be able to fool herself like that anymore. The problem was lying on a rollaway cot just a few feet away. The problem was the Doctor.
The Doctor. She still couldn't quite believe that she had found him again after all this time. For so many years she had dreamed of this reunion, but to have it happen like this . . . a chance encounter, the Doctor not even knowing she'd be there . . . it wasn't what she had dreamt at all. He hadn't come back for her. He hadn't even told her who he was when they first saw each other. And maybe he rathered that she hadn't been there at all. The last thought was the one that hurt the most.
She looked around her once-spacious hotel room, now crowded with extra cots. After she had discovered that the Doctor, Rose and Mickey hadn't planned yet where they were going to spend the night, she had offered to let them all crash with her at her hotel room. The Doctor had accepted on behalf of them all, although Rose had obviously been unhappy about the situation. Privately, Sarah had agreed with her; it was extremely awkward to have Rose here. If only the two of them had more in common, it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe then this would feel like a party instead of an imposition. And maybe then she wouldn't resent Rose for having what she herself had lost -- youth, energy, innocence, and the Doctor in her life.
Sarah rolled over again, away from that thought, away from the cot where Rose was sleeping. Rose was obviously close to the Doctor, she had to face that; perhaps, as painful as it was to think, as close as she and the Doctor had once been. But the girl was so young! Much younger than she herself had been when she first met the Doctor, so long ago. She had been an adult back then, a strong and independent woman, a professional journalist working on a story. Not a half-besotted teenager who obviously knew nothing yet about life. What was the Doctor doing with someone like that? And the worst part was, in this regeneration he actually looked an appropriate age for the girl. The two of them could hold hands on the street and never raise an eyebrow, while she and the Doctor . . . How could she have gotten so much older while he looked younger than ever? It wasn't fair. He'd been seven hundred and fifty years old when she knew him; he could be over a thousand by now. And yet he looked like that. It wasn't bloody fair.
Damn Time Lords, anyway. And he hadn't changed. Just like the Doctor not to think ahead to little mundane things such as where they were going to sleep. She knew that Mickey had arrived from London just a few hours ago, but she wondered where the Doctor and Rose had spent the previous night. In the TARDIS? In a different hotel? And if so, had they shared a room . . . perhaps shared a bed?
She wished she hadn't thought of that. Now she was definitely wide awake, no chance of getting back to sleep. As quietly as she could,she got out of bed and pulled on her clothes. She looked towards the rollaway cots, noting that the two dark shapes nearest her lay quiet, deep in sleep. Then she looked towards the third cot, the one nearest the door. She shook her head, smiling in spite of herself at how predictable he still was.
The cot was empty.
She found him at her car, fiddling with cables and K-9. She stood and watched him for a few minutes, searching for the familiar in his movements and mannerisms and failing to find it. She had been through this before, the disconcerting change in physical appearance and the even more disconcerting change in personality. She remembered how she had felt back then, how lost and alone and in grief for the old, until the new had proved with words and actions that he was, indeed, still the same person. A person she had come to care about.
Then with a small wax bag of Jelly Babies, he had shown how much he still cared about her in return.
And that had been the real start of it, the "it" between them that neither of them had ever quite figured out. But it had been precious and wonderful all the same.
And now he was different again, a stranger again. And this time, unlike the last time, he truly felt like a stranger. Back then, despite the outward changes, there had still been something underneath, a connection between the two of them. Even in the throes of his regeneration crisis, with the TARDIS in mid-dematerialization, he had responded to her voice and come back. But now, as she looked at this new Doctor before her, the connection they had used to have seemed gone. It was understandable, she supposed. Three decades had passed for her, and who knew how many centuries for him. Half-a-dozen regenerations, of stranger melting into stranger, moving ever farther away from the incarnations she had known. It was only natural that there should be nothing left between them. Especially now that he had Rose. Silently she watched him from the shadows, trying to convince herself that she was okay with that. That she could accept, and move on.
She knew that he was the Doctor, but in her heart he felt like a stranger. The connection between them was gone. Or perhaps her heart wasn't in a state to feel anything just now.
But at least her head was still working. It kept pouring memories at her; memories that warned her that despite the Doctor's brilliance and technological savvy, you couldn't always trust him when he came at something you valued while wielding his sonic screwdriver. When she saw him go for the hood of her car she finally just had to say something. "Would you mind telling me just what you're doing with my car, my dog and my jumper cables?"
He looked up, startled, and as he saw her she would almost say that he blushed. "Oh, hello Sarah." He stood up and took a step back, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Just trying to get a good charge into K-9. His batteries still aren't working properly, I expect because he's been out of commission for so long. Probably take a few days before his charging cycle is up to par again." Moving quickly, he went back to hooking up the cables. Belatedly he asked, "You don't mind if I use your car as an energy source, do you?"
"No, not since you have the courtesy to ask me before you mess around with my possessions . . . " She trailed off, feeling awkward. She hadn't meant to sound quite that sarcastic, but it didn't matter as he was obviously no longer paying attention to her anyway. With a final flourish, he finished the connections he'd been working on and pointed his sonic screwdriver at her engine.
Nothing happened. He frowned, then tried again.
"Something wrong, Doctor?"
He twisted some settings and aimed the sonic screwdriver at the engine yet again, but had no better results than before. Bemused, he stood over the engine and stared at it, one hand behind his head.
"Would you like to try using these?" asked Sarah, holding up her car keys.
"Regular combustion engine . . . no hyperbalic relays, no sign of a helmic interference coil . . . perhaps a remote induction circuit restricting the neutron flow?" he muttered. Without so much as a glance in her direction, he twisted the sonic screwdriver again and began scanning the surrounding area.
Sarah got into the driver's seat, shifted the car's gear, then turned the keys in the ignition. The engine roared into life. She got out and leaned against the door, smiling in triumph.
The Doctor stared at the running engine, then turned to her, amazed. "How did you do that?"
"The car won't start if the gear shift is in reverse. It's a safety feature." Her smile turned mischievous. "Perhaps I should stay on as your scientific advisor?"
He gave her a look -- and suddenly she felt warm all over, because it was the look, the rolled-eyes-and-half-smile combination that he had always used to give her when she'd successfully teased him. She began to laugh -- she couldn't help herself -- and then he began to laugh, too, and she exulted in the knowledge that they were once again on the same wavelength. He looked at her as if he too had been waiting for this moment, then suddenly he grabbed her and swung her into a close embrace. "Sarah," he said, "oh Sarah, you have no idea how much I've missed you." She looked into his eyes -- different eyes, the eyes of a stranger, but wearing an old friend's expression -- and she finally saw within them familiar depths.
"Have you really? she asked.
"Have I really what?"
"Missed me."
He looked at her, and ran one hand along the side of her face. "More than you know."
She longed to ask him then why on Earth -- or off of it -- he had never come back for her. But something about the way he held himself stopped her. There was a melancholy to him that he hadn't had back when she knew him. She had seen the Doctor grumpy, sulking, sad, irritated, frightened, and righteous with anger . . . but she had never sensed from him such a wellspring of grief before.
"Doctor . . . when you said before that everyone died . . ."
Abruptly, he released her, and stood staring out into the darkness. Never one to be put off from a confrontation, she came up behind him. She made no attempt to turn him around; she knew it would be easier for him to speak if he wasn't looking at her.
"What happened, Doctor? What happened to Gallifrey?"
