The 50th anniversary episode of Doctor Who ‘The Day Of The Doctor’ has just aired in the UK. This blog is not a place to discuss that, or all the – stuff – the – lights and the brights of it, but this blog is a place to talk about one thing.
That thing was the quietest and most brief of moments, and it was the look on David Tennant’s eyes when John Hurt said two words. “Bad Wolf,” said John Hurt, “Bad Wolf” was all he said, and David Tennant’s eyes exploded with story.
And oh how, I crumbled.
I bent and I broke and I sobbed.
I was on the top of Torchwood Tower, reader, I was there and I was back. I was in the story of Ten and Rose and I was lost in it. And oh how, oh how I howled.
This is character, this is what makes me burn as a writer, as somebody who is interested in stories, as a person. Not the big, orchestral moments, not the moments that play to the crowd and to the audience, but the moments that just, for a split second, define who and what you are and the who you’re always trying to forget but always will be.
And it is moments like this that remind me of what I believe in and remind me why I write, and why I try and tell stories. It is not for the big moments. It will never be for the biggest of moments. It is for those tiny fragments, those moments where – we are. We are.