Reaction fic to "Journey's End" (4/9)
Still spoilery. ETA: And thanks to the_divine_goat for pointing out a UK change I needed to make.
Nine Ways Donna Noble Had a Fantastic Life
by Christina K
copyright 2008
4.
The weirdest part, after this alien invasion, was how Granddad and Mum treated Donna afterward. All worried, like, and ... nice. Nice in a way you are to people getting over being sick (which made sense, since Donna'd had the flu through the whole thing) but also nice in a way that was distinctly unnerving. Nice like you are to someone who's done something impressive. From Granddad it wasn't that strange, because he always kept her spirits up, talked to her like she was worth something. From Mum, it was very, very weird. For a while Donna thought it was a trick, or some new motivational strategy, but it didn't really stop, even if Mum slipped into her old habits of 'get something accomplished' every once in a while.
Still, that was nice weird. The weird weird were the dreams. Names on the tip of her tongue that didn't mean anything. (Vashta Narada. Gallifrey. Ood. Oooooooood. There was a word for you.) Images of explosions. Worlds of ice. Sparkling luxury spas under deadly suns. They slipped away, they always did, but she remembered remembering them: traces and stories left over after the images and vivid worlds in her subconscious faded. And a best friend, someone who she could come back to when the world was cruel, and have tea and cookies before the next adventure.
She started writing them down, just to keep track of them. Then organizing them, while she looked for work again. Found a place at a estate agents's office that had a lot of down-time, extra quiet while she just minded the phones. She studied for her trading exam-- always good to have something to fall back on, yeah?
And she wrote. She couldn't help it.
It was two years before she even had the nerve to join a writer's group, get some pointers, see what other people thought of her ideas. She was selling houses in Chiswick and doing speed-dating in pubs still, but in the rest of her time, Donna was writing. Editing. Tearing the stories apart, putting them back together.
And dreaming. Still. Always.
The first time, it was a tentative foray, just a hesitant attempt; submitting a short story to a science fiction magazine. The editors rejected it, but gave her feedback, and told her she had wonderful ideas.
"Please try again."
So she did. Again. And again. And again. Something inside her wouldn't let her give it up. She knew she was being silly, but the core of it, that idea of friendship and belief that you could change the world--- it demanded to be out there, told. And finally....
When the publishers accepted her manuscript, it was very different from the narrative of her dreams. But she was thrilled with the cover art: a Roman villa on the slopes of Pompeii, with two people in modern dress on a hill overlooking it.
The first printing sold out in three months; the second, in six. And the publishers offered her a contract for five more books (five!) and enough money to buy Granddad an even bigger telescope, and now she was just selling houses because it was fun, and her agent was even talking about radio plays and maybe, sometime down the line, a movie script.
"Could you make it out to Luke?" The woman in line smiled at Donna as she handed over the third edition of her first book. "My son's birthday is coming up soon. I think he'd like this one. I loved it, to be honest. You've got a real gift."
"Thanks!" Donna grinned wide, and started to write.
To Luke -
Dreams take you places reality can't!
Best Wishes
Donna Noble
Nine Ways Donna Noble Had a Fantastic Life
by Christina K
copyright 2008
4.
The weirdest part, after this alien invasion, was how Granddad and Mum treated Donna afterward. All worried, like, and ... nice. Nice in a way you are to people getting over being sick (which made sense, since Donna'd had the flu through the whole thing) but also nice in a way that was distinctly unnerving. Nice like you are to someone who's done something impressive. From Granddad it wasn't that strange, because he always kept her spirits up, talked to her like she was worth something. From Mum, it was very, very weird. For a while Donna thought it was a trick, or some new motivational strategy, but it didn't really stop, even if Mum slipped into her old habits of 'get something accomplished' every once in a while.
Still, that was nice weird. The weird weird were the dreams. Names on the tip of her tongue that didn't mean anything. (Vashta Narada. Gallifrey. Ood. Oooooooood. There was a word for you.) Images of explosions. Worlds of ice. Sparkling luxury spas under deadly suns. They slipped away, they always did, but she remembered remembering them: traces and stories left over after the images and vivid worlds in her subconscious faded. And a best friend, someone who she could come back to when the world was cruel, and have tea and cookies before the next adventure.
She started writing them down, just to keep track of them. Then organizing them, while she looked for work again. Found a place at a estate agents's office that had a lot of down-time, extra quiet while she just minded the phones. She studied for her trading exam-- always good to have something to fall back on, yeah?
And she wrote. She couldn't help it.
It was two years before she even had the nerve to join a writer's group, get some pointers, see what other people thought of her ideas. She was selling houses in Chiswick and doing speed-dating in pubs still, but in the rest of her time, Donna was writing. Editing. Tearing the stories apart, putting them back together.
And dreaming. Still. Always.
The first time, it was a tentative foray, just a hesitant attempt; submitting a short story to a science fiction magazine. The editors rejected it, but gave her feedback, and told her she had wonderful ideas.
"Please try again."
So she did. Again. And again. And again. Something inside her wouldn't let her give it up. She knew she was being silly, but the core of it, that idea of friendship and belief that you could change the world--- it demanded to be out there, told. And finally....
When the publishers accepted her manuscript, it was very different from the narrative of her dreams. But she was thrilled with the cover art: a Roman villa on the slopes of Pompeii, with two people in modern dress on a hill overlooking it.
The first printing sold out in three months; the second, in six. And the publishers offered her a contract for five more books (five!) and enough money to buy Granddad an even bigger telescope, and now she was just selling houses because it was fun, and her agent was even talking about radio plays and maybe, sometime down the line, a movie script.
"Could you make it out to Luke?" The woman in line smiled at Donna as she handed over the third edition of her first book. "My son's birthday is coming up soon. I think he'd like this one. I loved it, to be honest. You've got a real gift."
"Thanks!" Donna grinned wide, and started to write.
To Luke -
Dreams take you places reality can't!
Best Wishes
Donna Noble