The Day of the Doctor (No Spoilers)

Yesterday, I saw the 50th anniversary episode of Doctor Who in the theaters in 3D. This blog won't be a discussion of the episode itself (because Spoilers!) instead I want to talk about my experience seeing it in the theater.

I went by myself because none of my friends or family in the area are caught up with the latest episodes. The only theater that had a showing of The Day of the Doctor was over an hour away, but in the end I decided it was worth it. Matt Smith is my favorite Doctor and his time is very limited. Plus, 3D! So I left early, arriving at the mall an hour and half before the movie was scheduled to start. I checked in at the kiosk and got my ticket. There was already a fair number of people in "line" (a roped off area marked "Doctor Who" showing 7:30). 

This was only my second experience going to the movies by myself, but I had faith that an audience of my fellow whovians would be friendly and I was not disappointed. People of all ages were waiting patiently in line, most seated, chatting about their theories and favorite Doctor Who moments. I sat down behind some high school girls. Behind me a middle-aged woman and her mother sat down. There were fezs galore and plenty of bow ties and converse shoes. I even recognized a t-shirt from an artist I follow, Karen Hallion.

The theater staff let us in with still an hour to go. I got a good seat a little less than halfway up the rows and right in the middle. An older gentleman watched my seat and coat for me while I ran to get popcorn and a drink. After I sat back down, I was joined by a father and his thirteen-year-old daughter. They were charming and we spent the next hour discussing our mutual love for this five decade long television epic. 

I enjoyed the episode thoroughly, but I enjoyed the people around me even more. When the lights dimmed, I could feel the tension around me. The eager anticipation. The excitement. Matt Smith appeared larger than life (watch out for that chin! Yowzah!) and gave a brief intro and told us to put our 3D glasses on. Then David Tennant appeared and the crowd went wild, drowning out his words. 

Laughter and gasps and tears rippled through the audience as we shared this incredible experience. There are few opportunities to share feelings with a crowd of strangers and honestly I felt a little overwhelmed. I've spent the last year or so as basically a hermit, but for once the crowd didn't make me feel panicked. These people are part of my tribe. I don't know most of their names and I'll likely never see them again, but for an hour and a half we shared something bigger on the inside. We shared excitement and anxiety. Terror and hope. We connected through this fairy tale of a mad man with a blue box. 

There're only three words that can express what this experience meant to me. 

Fantastic! Allons-y! Geronimo!

Writing Prompt: My Mother Broke Every Plate

From page 260 in "642 Things to Write About:"

Prompt: Start a story with the line "My mother broke every plate in the house that day."

My mother broke every plate in the house that day. Shards of blue and white porcelain sparkled across the kitchen tile like fragments of her life. She'd collected each piece meticulously. A saucer here, a plate, a teacup.

I held the only survivor behind my back. A sugar bowl. I wanted to place it gently in a basket and send it down a river to keep it safe from my mother's wrath. From her grief.

The violence of her act shocked even her. She stood quivering, surrounded by the shattered remnants of her collection. For the first time, the willow print made me feel like weeping. 

I sat silently for my own protection, and for that of the refugee that I clutched. The small bowl felt cold against my skin.

She'd been washing the dishes when the phone rang. I was supposed to be drying them.

The first plate dropped from her hands by accident. The second she let go, releasing her grip slowly. Intentionally. The third she threw.

Then the next. And the next. Harder and harder, building herself up like a tsunami. A ceramic wave crashed through her. The result of some far off earthquake. 

The last plate slipped through her fingers like sand. It landed atop its ruined family, a single chip in its oriental edge.

The wave collapsed, leaving my mother alone in the rubble.

Check out Claudia Bookwright's response to the same prompt here.

The Girl that Haunts Me

In addition to writing, I am also a visual artist. Pen and ink are my normal go-to media, but I also enjoy acrylics and color pencil (watercolors are my mortal enemy!). Many of the things that inspire my stories also inspire my pictures. Death. The future. Human experience. Yet there is one source of inspiration that has followed - perhaps haunted - me for years, and that inspiration started with a book.

Girl with a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier was inspired by a 17th century painting of the same name by Johannes Vermeer. Not much is actually known about the painting or the artist, for that matter. Chevalier's book was an attempt to discover the woman and the story behind the painting.

Not only does the concept of a writer delving into the past through fiction appeal to me, the painting itself struck a chord. Who was this girl? Her expression changes every time I study her. Sometimes she's full of innocence and hope. Sometimes her dark eyes fail to reflect the coy smile on her lips. Sometimes she looks lonely. Sometimes lost. Sometimes wise beyond her years.

I have studied this painting relentlessly. As a writer, I need to figure out who she is. I need to understand what she feels, what she dreams, what she desires with the utmost depths of herself. As an artist, I draw her. Over and over again. Maybe by creating her image I will find a deeper understanding. From sketches to paintings, I have recreated this girl many times. Often, instead of finding her, I find someone else entirely.

These are two very different version of the "Girl with a Pearl Earring" that I've done.

               "Girl with a Pearl Piercing"                       "Runner with a Pearl Earring"

Both of the women in my pictures are very different from the original and very different from each other. By studying one intriguing face, I have found many new characters. These two pieces are a small sampling of my efforts to capture the girl who wears the pearl earring. They are the most recent, but they won't be the last. 

I know that I will return to this painting, trying to tease out it secrets with words and paint. As a writer and an artist, inspiration is key to my success and, thanks to this painting, I have never lacked a mystery to follow. 

So let me end with a quote from the book that started this lifelong obsession:

“You're so calm and quiet, you never say. But there are things inside you. I see them sometimes, hiding in your eyes.” 

"Girl with a Pearl Piercing" and "Runner with a Pearl Earring" are copyright to Grace Wagner. Do not reproduce or use without permission. 2013