Fic: Two Roads Diverged in a Yellow Wood

[jjpor]

Fic: Two Roads Diverged in a Yellow Wood

So, I was sitting down this morning to write some fic (in between watching the Grand National - my donkey didn't even finish! - and the footy). I swear that I was trying to write the next part of Battlelines; I swear. However, instead I wrote this, straight off the bat, more or less in one sitting (which is unusual for me).

You see, I've been thinking about some of the stuff I’ve written about the Time War and Romana’s part in it. And more particularly, about my own feeling that in some sense I may have wussed out a little in ignoring some of the more difficult strands of continuity in the novels and audios, in particular the whole issue of Romana III and the hardening of her relationship with the Doctor. So this grew out of that; maybe it’s an apologia, maybe just an effort to organise my thoughts on the matter. I borrow some elements here from the Eighth Doctor novels, although it isn’t set in that version of continuity, and from Lawrence Miles’s Faction Paradox universe, and must also acknowledge a debt to my good buddy clocketpatch, whose fic about Romana in E-Space got me thinking on some of this stuff again. Anyway, here it is; as always, Doctor Who and its concepts belong to the BBC and to their individual creators; in particular, the Daleks belong to the Terry Nation estate:

www.whofic.com/viewstory.php

Comments

[clocketpatch]

Let's you get the most bang for your action movie buck eh?

*blushes* It's always really bashful/awesome-making to discover that you're a fic inspiration; especially for such wonderful fic! And really, you can't go wrong with Robert Frost! (I've got to read more of him though, because for the life of me I don't know where the head lice poem is from... but, that throw-away line is one of the best I've ever seen. And SO very something the Doctor, or Romana, would say)

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

The line about seeing ourself as others see us is actually by Robert Burns (the antimatter twin of Robert Frost?! Burns? Frost? Geddit??), the man who's so popular in Scotland that they named a night after him. The poem's called "To A Louse" and it's written in that strange Scots dialect he wrote most of his poems in (basically, the words are spelled the way Jamie talks).

And, yeah, while we're doing the mutual appreciation thing, that story of yours is really very good you know; it's on my little list of fics that I've read that have made an impression on me and made me want to try and write different, more ambitious sort of stuff than I otherwise might (because you know, left to my own devices I'd just churn out reams of stuff about those Edwardian Torchwood people and Seven and Ace being awesome, which is admittedly would not necessarily be a _bad_ thing, but still...). And, well, being a typical insecure male, I'd never admit to getting teary at, like, _fanfic_, but it did make me do that manly-man "Gahh, I've got something in my eye...again!" thing a couple of times. XD

[clocketpatch]

I'd be perfectly sated with Edwardian Torchwood and Seven an' Ace hi-jinks. XD

I've actually rec'd those Edwardian Torchwood fics to a few people in real life; they're my point in case for good fanfic; even more so because I'm not a fan of the show they're based upon!

[jjpor.livejournal.com]

Here, have another crumpled envelope of used banknotes! I like the tone of your remarks lately, Clocket; my head is now officially too big to get out of the room! :D

Yes, retro-Torchwood...the appeal of pistol-packing chaps and gels in tweed, thwarting the dastardly Hun and his extraterrestrial collaborators has not deserted me yet...they're well down the plotbunny pecking order, for now. I was thinking the other day about the old woman in that Season 1 episode of SJA, the one whose husband was some sort of Indiana Jones-esque archaeologist tangling with Sontarans in the 1930s Middle East. Or that was what she seems to be talking about, anyway. There's fic there, I think; there's no way her hubby wasn't Torchwooded-up (or at least being debriefed by them in a old-school-tie brandy-and-cigars-at-the-club sort of way when he fetched up back in Blighty)... Go away, bunnies! Leave me alone!

[clocketpatch]

I am so in this for the banknotes; they're paying my university tuition!