Over this past weekend, the news dropped that Series 13 will begin on 31 Oct 2021. Its six episodes, a story arc titled “Flux,” is reportedly the first single-story season since The Trial of a Time Lord (as opposed to, say, Bad Wolf or the Crack, which—while overarching themes—did not dominate every episode of those series). The series will run through the first weekend of December, leaving only three specials, set to air some time in 2022, to round out Whittaker’s—and Chibnall’s—run on Doctor Who.

This should be an exciting time. In the last month, we’ve had not only this confirmation of air dates, but also the announcement that Russell T. Davies will be back at the helm for Series 14. With that information out in the open, it seems likely that the announcement of the casting for the Fourteenth Doctor may also be in the not-too-distant future.

But I just don’t care.

Sure, when the RTD news broke, I was as agog as any seasoned fan. Whether it’s the best thing to happen to Doctor Who since the last time RTD took over, or a harbinger of the end times depends on who you talk to, I suppose, but there’s no doubt that the news sparked a lot of new discussion. The fan base was, at least for a brief moment, energized by an unexpected turn of events.

As others have said before (notably on Verity! podcast), it’s kind of sad to think that this news seems likely to overshadow Whittaker’s final series; she deserves our full attention. But isn’t that kind of the nature of the beast? Isn’t a Doctor’s final season often fraught with speculation about what will come next?

You can’t expect me to believe that no one would be wondering about who will be the next Doctor (or showrunner) even if RTD’s upcoming return hadn’t been announced. After all, with Whittaker’s upcoming departure, we ought to be in the “No! There’s no way you can replace her!” part of the cycle. It’s about time for fandom to eat itself over whether the change is about to ruin or to resurrect the show, and RTD’s return only adds fuel to that fire.

It seems like a sure-fire recipe for excitement for a long-term fan like me, but I’m struggling to feel any sort of connection to the show lately. As an example, when I recently got a panelist sign-up email from my local con, I looked through the list of potential panels, and I couldn’t find a single one—out of dozens!—that excited me enough to sign up for it. It’s a clear sign that I’m just plain burnt out.

These past couple of years have been pretty brutal for all of us. COVID has touched all our lives, to some degree or another, and whether one feels it weighing heavily in one’s daily life or not, there is no question that it has changed how many things in the world work. For many of us, that has spilled over into how (or whether) we consume our entertainment media.

It’s tempting to give in to nihilism, to say that nothing matters and so there’s no reason to care about something like a ridiculous science fiction show. I would argue, however, that now is a time that we especially need something like that.

Stories are important. They allow us to explore ideas, to analyze ourselves, to imagine new ways of being. Without allowing ourselves the freedom to envision how things could be different, how can we ever hope to build a different—a better—future? We need to let go of those self-judgmental thoughts about “wasting time on” stories and embrace the inspiration and creativity that Doctor Who engenders in us, its fans.

That’s why I’m really hoping that in a couple of weeks, when I actually have new episodes in front of me, the spark of joy I usually gain from Doctor Who will return. I need that sense of excitement again. I just have to remember to let go of some of the heavy cynicism that has settled across everything I do lately and surrender myself to the wonder.