There was ice this morning. Ice. Brrrrrrrrrrr...

[clocketpatch]

Because being egotistic is good clean fun for the entire family, I've stole this memeage from jjpor :

Pick a paragraph (or any passage less than 500 words) from any fanfic I've written, and comment to this post with that selection. I will then give you a DVD commentary on that snippet: what I was thinking when I wrote it, why I wrote it in the first place, what's going on in the character's heads, why I chose certain words, what this moment means in the context of the rest of the fic, lots of awful puns, and anything else that you'd expect to find on a DVD commentary track.

www.whofic.com/viewuser.php


... if you really want to you can grab one of the ones on my lj that hasn't made its way over there yet. But beware, for they are not organized at all.

Comments

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

Tell me about this:

She tossed him the book, just a thin paperback, rather worn. He caught it, and it was only then that he realised his mistake. He'd ignored this yellowed book for years, buried it in the very depths of the library next to the textbooks that belonged to a certain young Alzariun he'd travelled with for a while. That was a section of his life he liked to block out — too many ghosts.

"I choose it 'cause it was the first thing I opened that didn't have quantum math or physics or something in it. Where do you keep all of the book books on this ship anyway?"

He didn't answer. She shrugged.

"Nature's first green is gold," she began, and he sucked in a deep breath and tried to keep himself expressionless. It was a failed attempt.

Rose's eyes were screwed up in concentration, oblivious to the effect her stumbling words were having on her audience.

So, so long ago… He had told her that he didn't remember a thing.

"Then leaf subsides to leaf," Rose went on, too cheerfully, getting the rhythm all wrong, and clashing tone with meaning, "So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay."

Instead he had badgered her about ruining his scarf. Never a thank you for his life. Only nagging, day after day, until she sat down and knitted him a new scarf, twice as long as the first. He couldn't complain after that.

Rose opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Blimey, I'm not that good," she said.

The Doctor quickly cuffed away a tear. When he spoke his voice rasped in his throat.

"No, proper poet you are, picked just my favourite one."

Rose smiled and hugged him and bounced out of the console room. The Doctor leaned heavily against a support strut. While Rose had been reading his mind had been playing tricks, replacing Rose with another blond, a natural one; a smaller woman with more delicate features and an aristocratic bearing.

The face of a princess. The face of a ghost.

He remembered the feel of her hand in his. The flitting smell of Paris in springtime. The pride in his heart, and the sorrow when she disappeared into E-space, the joy when she came back… He remembered hiding in the back balconies of the Panoptican when she accepted the presidential sash. A petit form bowed down by purple velvet, ideals, and a sparkling smile staring down a million years of stagnation and corruption. She had refused to wear a collar since she was a free agent and a new beginning. Never had he been so proud of her.

His Romana.

He remembered her cracking voice over the TARDIS phone telling him that all was lost and he must be the one to pay. Telling him with brave words that everything withered in the end. That was life. He shouldn't be afraid - she always knew when he was lying.

And then static had overtaken the line and she had gone. Forever.

But still alive in his memories, gold as ever. The present came back into focus slowly. The memories slow to loose their grip. The Doctor raised his eyes to where the phantom had stood. He could hear Rose humming and laughing in the hall, and he swore that he would never let her go without telling her how much he cared.

[clocketpatch]

This was a scene that was with me all through this fic, because I find it impossible to write Romana without the glaring fact that she will some day die bouncing in the back of my head.


She tossed him the book, just a thin paperback, rather worn. He caught it, and it was only then that he realised his mistake. He'd ignored this yellowed book for years, buried it in the very depths of the library next to the textbooks that belonged to a certain young Alzariun he'd travelled with for a while. That was a section of his life he liked to block out — too many ghosts.


Everyone who travelled with Four past Sarah-Jane would be gone by this point, one way or another. Leela, Andred, that version of K-9, and Romana, and her version of K-9… they’ve all been blown up, or fob-watched, or something. And Adric, well, we all know what happened to Adric. From what I understand, Tegan didn’t meet an especially happy fate either in the spin-off media.

And, knowing the Doctor, he takes all of these deaths as his responsibility (and admittedly, some of them are more his fault than others)


"I choose it 'cause it was the first thing I opened that didn't have quantum math or physics or something in it. Where do you keep all of the book books on this ship anyway?"

He didn't answer. She shrugged.


Initially in this sequence Rose said something like “You’re always spouting off bits of poetry, so I thought I’d learn some to keep up”, but, as abbyromana pointed out in beta, Nine wasn’t really one for poetry. He’d exclaim over how much he like things – like Dickens that one time – and I can definitely see him shaking his head at Rose for missing a reference, but randomly quoting wasn’t his thing. Eight does that. Four to some extent does that. Six never stops doing that. And Ten is pretty quotastic as well, but Nine? Not so much.


"Nature's first green is gold," she began, and he sucked in a deep breath and tried to keep himself expressionless. It was a failed attempt.


I really like that poem. It’s one of the few poems I’ve got completely memorized and tucked into my head. I like Frost – well – I like some Frost, because he also has those big epic poems that bore me to death. This whole story is somewhat based around his poetry, and this one particular poem formed the backbone.

Rose's eyes were screwed up in concentration, oblivious to the effect her stumbling words were having on her audience.

So, so long ago… He had told her that he didn't remember a thing.

"Then leaf subsides to leaf," Rose went on, too cheerfully, getting the rhythm all wrong, and clashing tone with meaning, "So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay."


It’s been a theme in NuWho that the Doctor loses everyone, and so it seemed appropriate given the circumstances.


Instead he had badgered her about ruining his scarf. Never a thank you for his life. Only nagging, day after day, until she sat down and knitted him a new scarf, twice as long as the first. He couldn't complain after that.


One of the things I set out to explain right from the get-go with this fic was “where the heck did that burgundy scarf come from anyways?” Because “JNT had action figure schemes brewing” was not an acceptable in-universe answer.

Rose opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Blimey, I'm not that good," she said.

The Doctor quickly cuffed away a tear. When he spoke his voice rasped in his throat.

"No, proper poet you are, picked just my favourite one."


Nine crying makes me sad. He tries to be all gruff and bad ass, and he IS all gruff and bad ass, but he’s got layers, and not like an onion or a cake, because they’re all mixed up, like he’s all mixed up. He might be laughing and goofy one minute, then fly into a rage the next. He tries not to cry, tries to bate it back with jokes, or anger, but he never quite succeeds.

I think Eccleston did an excellent job playing him. The level of acting in some of those episodes is just staggering.

Damned word limit strikes again!

[clocketpatch]

Rose smiled and hugged him and bounced out of the console room. The Doctor leaned heavily against a support strut. While Rose had been reading his mind had been playing tricks, replacing Rose with another blond, a natural one; a smaller woman with more delicate features and an aristocratic bearing.


He always did go for the blondes…


The face of a princess. The face of a ghost.


Hmmm… I think I might have overdone it a bit with that sentence.


He remembered the feel of her hand in his. The flitting smell of Paris in springtime. The pride in his heart, and the sorrow when she disappeared into E-space, the joy when she came back… He remembered hiding in the back balconies of the Panoptican when she accepted the presidential sash. A petit form bowed down by purple velvet, ideals, and a sparkling smile staring down a million years of stagnation and corruption. She had refused to wear a collar since she was a free agent and a new beginning. Never had he been so proud of her.


Yes, I’m going with the spin-off canon that Romana came back and became Lady President. I think I recall seeing somewhere that RTD confirmed this; he also said something along the lines of “And she totally started the war yo” which annoyed me. Because if anyone started that war, it was Four making the Daleks aware of the Time Lords but not destroying them, and then waiting until he was Seven and the Daleks were spread across half the universe to BLOW UP THEIR PLANET and make them angry. Ahem (and yes, I did grab most of my Dalek canon from your fics JJ, it’s such tasty fodder to the thoughts).

Also, I need to find reference to the word I’m putting in Rusty’s mouth. Apologies to him if I’m just quoting y imagination.

His Romana.


He’s rather possessive of his companions…


He remembered her cracking voice over the TARDIS phone telling him that all was lost and he must be the one to pay. Telling him with brave words that everything withered in the end. That was life. He shouldn't be afraid - she always knew when he was lying.

And then static had overtaken the line and she had gone. Forever.

Damn, this bit was hard writing. The actual words flew out pretty quick, but the meaning behind them hit hard a second later. It’s funny that you picked this one, and lost_spookpicked the other, because both come from my “Doctor/Romana, end of the Time War’ period of writing. I think there are one or two others with the same basic message. That moment right there is what the Doctor heard when he held the Key to Time.

That right there is why Nine is so harsh to Cassandra, and where he got the words to damn her. The words that Ten keeps repeating. That he keeps trying to reaffirm in some feeble justification that everything’s okay, and he’s fine.


But still alive in his memories, gold as ever. The present came back into focus slowly. The memories slow to loose their grip. The Doctor raised his eyes to where the phantom had stood. He could hear Rose humming and laughing in the hall, and he swore that he would never let her go without telling her how much he cared.


I had to make it a bit lighter after that, to bring back the thing that the Doctor nearly forgot; maybe everything withers, and everything dies, and maybe nothing gold can stay, but there will be tomorrow, another day, and always the memories of what’s passed.

That said, I’m not sure this is the ending I’d put on if I wrote it now. This was published WAY before Journey’s End aired. It was meant to be a bittersweet comment on how the Doctor always forgets to do that one little thing, even though he thinks it, and feels it. He has now though, I guess that’s one of the few good things that came out of the whole Handy debacle. *shudders yet gain at the thought of Rose and Handy tongue*

Urgh, that is one mental image that all the brain bleach in the world cannot erase.

But moving on, I hope you enjoyed the commentary, because I’m really quite fond of this fic. I like the world, and the way it turned out, even if the actual resolution was a bit slapdash.

Re: Damned word limit strikes again!

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much for taking the time to do such a detailed and considered commentary (instead of just spewing out a load of random waffle like I did! ;D). I really like this fic, as I think I said when I first read it; the alien world and its inhabitants and the nature of the threat are both really well-thought-out, and the bit where Four is all possessed and naked and gone-native is a little bit terrifying, to be honest. But the clincher for me was this ending part, it hit me hard, sappy Romana-shipper that I am, and as I've said before led me directly to put some of my own thoughts about the Time War etc. into writing (for which I am very grateful to you!)

And if you think about it (to go off on a tangent), the idea of the Doctor both starting and ending the Time War (and of things like Genesis and Resurrection and Remembrance actually being Time War stories even if nobody realised it at the time!) is just too perfect; sorry RTD, but it's true! ;D

Re: Damned word limit strikes again!

[clocketpatch]

Oh, there be waffle in there. Lovely 3AM unspellchecked waffle...

Naked Four is terrifying under any circumstance.