TMWFTEW Introduction
"Doug," my physician said, "there is no shame in going to someone else for help, especially if the threat is serious. Now, tell me honestly -- have you been writing again?"
I couldn't meet her gaze. I just sat there with my eyes squeezed shut, my head in one hand. Then I barely nodded.
She sighed.
"Doug -- I don't know what else to say to you. You've got to stop this. This compulsion you have with writing fanfic is consuming you! It's your drug of choice.
"When are you going to get it through your head that this is just as serious and deadly as any addiction to cocaine, or heroin? I mean -- look at you! You're coming apart at the seams! You haven't eaten well lately, you're always late for work, your family hasn't heard from you in months-"
"I called them three weeks ago," I interrupted her.
"Oh, brav-*o,"* she said. "And if I remember correctly, they hadn't heard from you in so long, they thought it was a prank being played on them by one of your father's *coworkers!"*
"My dad's a college professor," I mumbled. "There are people he works with who would do that."
"That's not the point! Doug, this is serious. Whenever you write fan fiction, you lose yourself in an altered state of mind. When this happens, the chemical composition of your brain actually changes, and just like a cocaine addict, you could burst an aneurysm at any moment! You are risking your life by doing this! Do you understand?"
I nodded. "I do understand. But I still can't stop! I don't know what else to do! It's like nothing else in the world matters!"
"Have you contacted the FFA recently?"
"The Future Farmers of America?"
She gave me a hard look. She didn't think that was too funny. "Fan-Fic Anonymous," she said stiffly.
"Oh, yeah," I said, looking away again. "No, I haven't been to a meeting in several.....months."
"Did you get rid of your computer?" she asked.
"Yes," I said weakly.
"That's great!" her face lit up. "That's progress!"
"Then I couldn't stand writing with a pen and paper any more, so I dug it out of the dumpster."
Her face fell. She was silent for many moments. Then she handed me her card. "Well, until you hurt yourself so much that you actually want help, there's not much more I can do. Here's my number -- again. Call me, or someone in your support group, the moment you feel like writing again. Okay?"
"Okay," I whispered, taking the card. I stumbled out into an uncertain world. I had to sprint to catch the bus home. I sat staring out the window, watching the world slide past, reading street signs, wondering how I could abandon all the plots, all the clever ideas, dancing around my brain. If I didn't write them, they would be inside my head forever. What was I to do?
I should have known better than to read the street signs. I knew what was coming. But I did it anyway.
It slid past in the dusk: "Yale Boulevard." My insides clutched up, and I almost screamed as my eyes whirled in despair. Oh, no! "The Man Who Fell to Earth -- Who?!?!" The sequel to "Earth Who," my second Doctor Who / Earth 2 crossover! How could I forget that? How could I lay such wonderful ideas aside, unwritten, for the rest of my life, as if they didn't matter? HOW?!
I didn't think. There's no thinking involved in a mental illness. (Hence the term.) I leaped out of the bus when it reached my stop. I sprinted home, not bothering to get the mail, ignoring my neighbors. I rushed inside and turned on the computer, literally dancing around while it slowly called up my writing program. I shoved dirty dishes aside to get to the phone and hastily ordered yet another pizza. I didn't have time to think of paltry things like food, paying bills, or going to my job in the morning!
There was work to do!
I think the pizza got there. I can't recall. I lost all track of time. I stayed up the whole night; the house was dark, my face lit by the glow of the computer screen as I gleefully pounded out the words of yet another adventure in the lives of Eden Project, silently praying all the while, "Please let me last long enough to finish this, pleeeeeeaase!"
I giggled insanely the whole time...
For those of you who enjoyed "Earth Who," the sequel is here. It's called, "The Man Who Fell to Earth -- Who?!?!" and it's set at the time when Eden Advance meets the colony ship at New Pacifica.
To those of you who have already written a story in which the colony ship arrives, my apologies -- chances are, I'm going to contradict something. But I figure if we can have three separate explanations for Devon's sickness, I can do this.
As always, anyone who wishes for the story as a file, let me know. It's on Microsoft Word 6.0.
As for a rating, all I can tell you is that it is similar in tone and content to "Earth Who." If you don't get an adrenaline rush, I haven't done my job. So be sure and let me know if you don't, so I can toss in a few gratuitous explosions or an alien invasion or something.
Although this is a sequel to "Earth Who," you do not need to have read the first story in order to understand this one. (However, if you didn't read "Earth Who," AND you don't know who Doctor Who is, it might get a little rocky in places.)
Happy reading!
Doug

For Cheryl,
who only likes the 4th Doctor.

Regarding Earth 2, this story is set at the time when Eden Advance meets the colony ship at New Pacifica. Regarding Doctor Who, this story takes place between "The Reign of Terror" and "Planet of Giants," and also between "Shada" and "The Leisure Hive."