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So,
bas_math_girl tagged me for this meme on Tumblr, and I'm posting my answer here, mostly because I don't get Tumblr. It's probably just not a good platform for me: I'm not a visual person (as you can tell by my crappy userpics). I won't reblog other people's stuff unless it's really really good, and even if I were to write what I want to say there, I'm too verbose for that site - no one will read miles and miles of text.
Anyway, here's the meme. I'm doing it because I looked up the lines it refers to and I'm actually rather happy with them. And, they are obscure enough that you might just want to find out more...
The rules: Go to page 7 of your WIP, go to the seventh line, share seven sentences, and tag 7 more writer-bloggers to continue the challenge.
Thus, he bulled his way through the crowd in the direction of the TARDIS, rubbing the crystal of the screwdriver in his hand with his thumb.
The readings on the instrument were normal, no anomalies in either space or time in this vaulted shopping mall. This was exactly what he expected: a normal day in a normal place. The problem was in his own head. He had definitely been here alone in the Galleria, but he also remembered being in a Chiswick park with Donna, though that was a distant memory, almost as if it had happened to someone else. He spied an empty bench and trotted over to it, sitting down to think hard and try to fix the memory in his mind.
What did he remember about Donna?
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Anyway, here's the meme. I'm doing it because I looked up the lines it refers to and I'm actually rather happy with them. And, they are obscure enough that you might just want to find out more...
The rules: Go to page 7 of your WIP, go to the seventh line, share seven sentences, and tag 7 more writer-bloggers to continue the challenge.
Thus, he bulled his way through the crowd in the direction of the TARDIS, rubbing the crystal of the screwdriver in his hand with his thumb.
The readings on the instrument were normal, no anomalies in either space or time in this vaulted shopping mall. This was exactly what he expected: a normal day in a normal place. The problem was in his own head. He had definitely been here alone in the Galleria, but he also remembered being in a Chiswick park with Donna, though that was a distant memory, almost as if it had happened to someone else. He spied an empty bench and trotted over to it, sitting down to think hard and try to fix the memory in his mind.
What did he remember about Donna?
no subject
Date: 2016-01-27 11:18 pm (UTC)