A Tale of Two Doctors

For the record, I haven’t seen the episode where Ten and Eleven are both there at the same time. But I did have this dream and write it down before that episode came out. They totally stole the idea from my dream. *nods seriously* (I want to see it so bad… Eventually. No, I still haven’t seen Eleven yet. I’ve only seen two and a half-ish seasons. I’m very behind. What can I say. Time. I need more time. Timey-wimey.)


A Tale of Two Doctors
(A Doctor Who Dream-Turned-Fanfiction)
by
Deborah O’Carroll

dw10The Tenth Doctor and the Eleventh Doctor are both around at the same time, and are waiting around in a dentist’s office, arguing. Because if you put two different versions of the Doctor together at the same time, they’re of course going to argue.

They’re arguing about dogs. Specifically whether, if you cross a breed of dog that’s big, fluffy, and intelligent, with a breed that’s small, short-haired and stupid, do you get dogs of a medium size, normal-length hair and average intelligence? They both take different views on the subject and are going at it with spirit.

I stand off to the side, listening to them and being quite amused, and there’s also the dentist and various people off to the other side. For some reason the office looks suspiciously like a store-room, full of lots of big boxes and crates, two of which Ten and Eleven are sitting on while they argue. It’s quite fantastically marvelous to watch.

All of a sudden there is a loud disturbance.

Bang! Crash! Bang!

A banging on the door, as of someone trying to get in. Going by past dreams, I know it could be something really creepy, so I at once start looking around to see if there’s a place to hide.

This is the smart thing to do.

I detect a closet and deem it a good discovery, and turn to watch what’s going on.

The two Doctors are still bickering, but someone else—alas!—quite foolishly opens the door.

dalekImmediately, a Dalek rolls in, buzzing its battle-cry.

“Exterminate! Exterminate!”

And starts blasting people all over the place.

Zap! Zap!

Ten and Eleven both jump up and start making the expected cries of alarm to the effect of “No!” and “It can’t be!” and “Daleks don’t exist anymore!”

I suggest, “Apparently they do, given that one is about to exterminate you. Hide?”

“Good plan!”

As the only bystander to survive, I show them the closet I’d found. Ten bravely and/or foolishly distracts the Dalek:

“Look! This is how you shave an eyebrow off with a sonic screwdriver!” He demonstrates on himself with an electronic humming buzz and a flash of blue light.

Eleven meanwhile pulls out the blaster weapony thing Jack Harkness had and blasts at the closet door with another flash of blue light, to see if it’s blastable, which it isn’t.

“It’s safe!” he decides.

Thus cheered, I evict a bunch of boxes and closet stuff from inside so there will be more space. The closet has lots of stuff, including, inexplicably, a small and completely adorable-looking otter curled up in a corner, who gets up and patters swiftly off past me while I stare in a sort of melted-by-adorableness-astonishment. Then, shaking free from my daydream, I hastily return to the task at hand.

dw11With the closet cleared, Eleven and I jump in and call for Ten to hurry. The Dalek goes back into action and Ten yelps and dodges, narrowly missing an exterminator blast. (Those Daleks should really go into the pest-control business…)

Ten scuttles toward the closet, yelling, “I hope my eyebrow grows back soon!” He zips inside with us. “It was far too nice of an eyebrow to waste!”

We slam the door and bolt it shut, and watch through the suddenly-transparent closet door as the Dalek scrolls up toward us. It starts talking to the Doctors, trying to intimidate them, or else to annoy them to death—or knock their ears off with its annoying buzzing voice.

They yell back at it: “You can’t get in! So—Neeaaah!”

The Dalek tries to blast the door. But . . . it. doesn’t. work. We actually got away! Since when does that ever happen in a dream? The scary “it” of the dream always gets you!

But not when it’s Ten and Eleven and me—No.

We are just too fantastic to be exterminated.

The End

(Don’t take all the credit, Ten. We were ALL brilliant!)

(Sorry for all the extra Ten pics. I haven’t met Eleven yet so I can’t love him yet. …Actually, I’m not sorry at all.)

My Misguided Fairy Godmother Muse

Once upon a time, there was a girl who started writing stories.

She spent several years scribbling away at them, going back and forth between a few different ideas and consequently not making much progress on them.

Then something strange began to happen. She began to have even more and more ideas for even more stories! What could this mean?

But, cheerily, she continued writing, and making notes for all the new ideas. She became obsessed with making lists of the stories, and developing titles for them, and designing mock covers for them, and writing out summaries of what they were about. She began to be more excited about “playing” with the stories than actually writing them.

Time went on. The list of stories continued to grow and grow and grow! But far from complaining, the writer was delighted.

She did so enjoy making those lists and writing those notes, you see.

Somewhere along the way, she began to notice patterns. Whenever she would take a break from working on her writings, whether on purpose to recharge, or accidentally due to busyness, she would suddenly get hit with all this inspiration — and, more often than not, that inspiration might include ideas for new stories.

Then the year of 2015 hit. The ideas were flying in left and write right. It began to get insane. The writer began to despair of ever getting around to writing all of the things, especially at the snail-like pace the actual writing was happening.

So the writer stepped back and analyzed this phenomenon.

That was when the writer discovered the presence of her fairy godmother.

Most writers talk of their “Muse”.

(very helpful…)

This writer realized that instead of a muse, she had a benevolent but misguided fairy godmother of inspiration. (Perhaps rather like Ophelia from Broken Glass by Emma Clifton…)

The writer realized that the fairy godmother muse freaks out whenever the writer is not making Story, knowing that the writer is happier when making Story. So the fairy godmother, thinking the writer is just tired of the old stories, quickly throws a bunch of new ideas at the writer to get her attention.

If you haven’t figured out by now, this writer is me. And this benevolent but misguided fairy godmother of my writerly brain/inspiration/muse is the cause of both my excitedness about having so many story ideas to write, and my despair over ever finishing anything, let alone all of them.

My fairy godmother muse, especially this year, is constantly going:

“STORY. STORY! YOU’RE NOT MAKING STORY. YOU’LL BE HAPPIER WITH SOME STORY. MAKE STORY!”

And hands me more and more storyness, shoving it into my brain and then beaming and watching happily as I flail around like a headless octopus and try to work on ALL OF THE STORY THINGS.

Unfortunately, my fairy godmother muse doesn’t seem to care if I’m actually making PROGRESS on said stories, i.e., actually writing them down…

As long as I’m flailing around doing plotting or brainstorming or making lists, she feels confident that she has been doing her job well and fulfilling her role in keeping her writer happy playing with stories.

To give you an idea of the insanity that’s underway, I’m going to share a list of the story ideas that have “clicked” this year ALONE.

The main ones are:

  • The Other Half of Everything (I think I’ve mentioned this enough…)
  • Darkling Reflections (Finished this one! Huzzah! …Yes, it’s a short story; I can still be proud.)
  • The Siren and the Skyship (swashbuckling sky adventuresome gender-swapped steampunk Little Mermaid retelling)

Five more stories in the Kedran’s Wood series (bringing it to a total of 8… so far; last year it was supposed to be a “trilogy”. Haha. Isn’t that just ADORABLE?)

  • Son of Kedran’s Wood – prequel novella
  • Return to McAllistair Mansion – short story (I wrote this one! I’s so proud of me.)
  • Mixup at Kedran’s Wood – novella between books 2 & 3
  • The Novelist of Kedran’s Wood – novel set after book 3, a double story
  • Celebrations at Kedran’s Wood – short story set after all of the planned books (thus far… *cough*)

As well as:

  • A modern Cinderella retelling about a writer, set during NaNoWriMo
  • An untitled fairy-tale mashup conglomeration retelling (RETELL ALL OF THE THINGS)
  • An untitled thing I’m currently calling “The Epic Book” which is vague but has some awesome ideas swirling
  • An extremely vague notion of an idea for a con/heist story that would be a companion to Underground Rainbow, starring the eccentric purple-haired artist (no, unfortunately this has no plot yet and I probably will never be able to make it work)
  • An idea for a nonfiction book about various things

And I also “made official” i.e. added to my lists because I had had ideas about them but was pretending they didn’t exist:

  • The tenth Starrellian Saga book
  • A sequel/companion novel to Heartseeker about the Bard and Trillum
  • An untitled Arthurian retelling which is going to be super cool

Not to mention my Sleeping Beauty novella The Rose and the Raven, which had been a vague idea for years but only just this year finally came together as something I could write… (But, again, having trouble CONTINUING… ya know?)

Yes. That is 16 (or 17 if you count The Rose and the Raven) stories, either from ideas from this year or “officialized” by listing them as stories to write. THAT’S JUST THIS YEAR ALONE. That’s not even thinking about the 30+ other stories from BEFORE the notorious 2015-when-all-the-stories-exploded-in-plotbunnies-and-said-write-us-or-we’ll-kill you. Sometimes I scroll through my list of 50ish stories and just go… “HOW EVEN.”

Sixteen new stories this year, guys. (So far…)

Can you see how insane this is getting?

Apparently there’s just no dealing with a benevolent but misguided fairy godmother of inspiration.

(And no, I don’t actually know whether you should be very happy for me or PLAYING A DIRGE.

It’s very confusing and I honestly can’t tell anymore.

Blame it on my fairy godmother.)