Exactly six years ago today, my first post appeared on this blog. It’s a little hard to believe it’s been so long! When I started out, I had a lot to say. I was still less than three years into my fandom, and really didn’t have anyone to talk to about the show, at least not in any in-depth way. I had only just joined Twitter, in order to promote the blog, and hadn’t even heard of Gally until I’d been on Twitter for a while. (That was back in the day when one could still decide on a whim in August to go to Gally the following February, rather than needing lightning-fast fingers during a brief few-minute window in May.)
So it felt exciting and energizing to try to connect with other fans and share my take on things in a way I’d not seen discussed. I didn’t feel like most of the folks whose opinions I was reading at the time could relate to my perspective at all, and I hoped to add a new voice to the mix.
Since then, I’ve developed a great many fan friendships, some of them close. I’ve had conversations both online (here on the blog and elsewhere) and in person about any number of Doctor Who-related topics. I’ve experienced my second realtime regeneration and all the feels that accompany the change in lead actor. I’ve met many cast, crew, and production team members. I’ve been on a bunch of panels at both Gally and my local con CONsole Room.
And the conversations have changed.
I’m coming up on nine years of fandom now (wow; that doesn’t even seem possible…), and I feel nothing like a new fan anymore. Although I still classify myself as a neowhovian (in fact, The Neowhovian—the definite article, you might say ~wink~) because I came to the show first through the revived series, I’ve come to think of myself more as an old-timer. I’m no longer a baby fan.
That has its pros and its cons. I no longer feel lost if I wander into a conversation about any televised era of the show, though as I wasn’t part of the fandom for most of those eras, I still have a different perspective on them than those who grew up with it. But I’ve also become more jaded. I can no longer go into any given new episode with starry-eyed anticipation, ready for whatever treat is served up to me next. I’ve got too many ideas about what has been and therefore what could be.
I have not become so disillusioned with it that I’ve given up on the show altogether, though. I’m sad to say that some of my friends feel the show has left them totally behind. While I’m glad they can recognize when something simply isn’t for them (many folks are unable to do so, and continue to rage against media that doesn’t cater to them as if nothing should exist if it doesn’t match their personal ideals), it makes me sad that this isn’t for them anymore.
Here, then, is one of my remaining advantages as a neowhovian. Because I imprinted like a baby duck on this new vision of the show, the expectations I have for what it “should” and “shouldn’t” do appear to be more closely aligned with the direction it’s taken than for the cohort who were raised on Pertwee, T. Baker, or Davison. Granted, I don’t always agree with the choices either (I’ve been clear about my feelings as my disdain for Moffat’s particular brand of writing has grown), but I can still enjoy it overall.
I suppose, then, that I’m a Sadder But Wiser version of the Neowhovian who started releasing her thoughts out into the wilds of the Internet six years ago. There’s not quite so much sparkle in my eyes as I sit down to watch the latest episode, or await the latest news from the production team, but I still love the show; it’s still “for me” (at least for the most part).
While I may no longer be precisely the “recent fan” my business cards claim, I think that the point in my life at which I came to the show still gives me a unique—and hopefully interesting—perspective. I’m still proud to call myself the Neowhovian. And I’m still thankful for every single reader.