I recently received quite a lot of attention thanks to my fanfic series about Misfits. People keep subscribing to it and urging me to write the next chapter. Truth be told, I never really planned for it to be a series. I just thought that the whole story about Future Simon dying was a clever way to make the series more dramatic. But I despise plot that is centered around the genre. Indeed, I believe the plot should define the genre and not the other way around. So I decided to rewrite the story and make it both more optimistic and more promising.
However, the whole story was a bit longer than expected so I split it up into several parts. And suddenly there are all those people that believe it to be a series and demand to see what happens next. So what I’m doing now, is I’m re-watching all the Series 2 episodes, filling in the missing scenes. It all works fine when I can find the strength to begin. Unfortunately, lately I’ve been having too little time for writing. Or, should I say, I’ve been making too little time. I need to set goals for that as well, because they really work for me. Right now I’m writing my first blog post in a month which is disappointing, very much so. My first goal will be to post at least twice a week. Just writing it down now. And since today is Saturday, and this is my first post this week, the second one will undoubtedly be tomorrow.
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I had a weird dream last night, or was it this morning. I was a zombie slayer, a rather unhappy one since the outbreak was a recent one and included some of my friends. We were in a large room and the zombies circled around us. Obviously it was enough to receive a scratch to join the other side. Oddly enough, I seemed to have taken control over the situation and there was this police “do not cross” tape which the zombies obeyed. So my work was to keep the healthy people inside and out of the zombies’ reach and at the same time find better weapons to fight them. I soon found giant replicas of two of the knives we use at home. One was a very useful knife for meat and the other one was a knife for tomatoes (not extremely helpful, judging by experience). So there I was, trying to strike the zombies down with the tomato knife without cutting the tape in the process. Next thing I know, I had finally got hold of the ‘real’ meat knife and had taken care of all the zombies when one of the surviving guys approached me. I realised I’d had a crush on him ever since I saw how handy he was with the rolling-pin. But now he’s looking at me with his big sad black eyes and telling me to hold the meat ‘sword’ steady so that he can stab himself in the heart. Turned out he had been bitten and would transform any second now. Next thing I know his eyes were filled with pain. His face was only centimeters away from mine, sword through his heart and all. I bent down to kiss him and… woke up.
That’s what Doctor Who feels like most of the time. Humanity is always saved, but at a cost. The cost is the life of someone other than the lead character. The longer we’ve watched him or her in action, the more probable we’ll weep for them at the end. Sometimes, like in ‘The God Complex’ you just know who will die and who will live. The brave, clever ones who are not on next episode’s imdb list are prone to die a most unfortunate, if convenient death. I sometimes wonder why I am always the lead actress of my dreams. How much fun it would be to have a sexy leading male that actually has a will on his own who tries to solve the mystery and I help him. But dreams are rarely like that.
Just a last thing before I fall asleep after the 3,5 hours in the gym today: started second season of ‘The Big Bang Theory’ today – it’s getting even better! I love it so much – what does that say about me?
