Writing is Magic

          “Now class,” Miss Cheerilee announced, “we have a very special guest today. He’s a very well-known and respected author, Art Colter.”

          “Thank you Cheerilee. Well now, my little ponies, your teacher asked me here today to talk about being successful in a chosen career.”

          “Why did she have you come in,” a little pink-and-purple pony named Diamond Tiara asked, “Like the most successful stallion in town is my daddy. He probably made more today than you’ll make like all year.”

          “Isn’t your father Filthy Rich? Yes, I met him once in Fillydelphia. He wanted me to sign his copy of my book ‘How to Win Friends and Influence Ponies’.”

          Diamond Tiara turned up her nose.

          “Now if you’ll let me continue. To tell you about my career, you’re going to have to get some background. You see, I didn’t figure out what I wanted to do until I was older than all of you are now.”

          “Really,” Apple Bloom asked in amazement.

          “Yes, really. And the worst part is I didn’t know why. I assumed for a long time that you got your Cutie Mark and then lived your life according to it, instead of the reality, which is that you have to find out what you do best, and the Cutie Mark follows. So anyway, my father and mother are a famous artist and musician respectively, and my entire family is pretty artistically-inclined, so when I was young, everyone expected me to follow in my parent’s footsteps. There were piano lessons, drawing lessons, not to mention the rich-pony school I went to.”

          “Sounds like my kind of place,” Diamond Tiara commented.

          “Well it wasn’t my kind of place. The ponies I went to school with all thought they were all that and a bag of chips. They never learned that just because you can get away with doing something doesn’t mean that you should do it.”

          “So how did you figure out you should be a writer,” Sweetie Belle asked.

          “Well it happened one day after school. It hadn’t been a good day. But then, an idea popped into my head. I was going to write down my real opinion of everypony in my class. I didn’t hold anything back. By the time my parents got home late in the evening, I must have had two dozen pages written out. When they read them, my parents got quite upset, to the point that they showed my teacher what I had written. As punishment for something that wasn’t bad, I had to read the entire thing aloud in class. I was up all night subtly tweaking my words, transforming them from enraged rants to nice little poetic couplets.”

          “What happened when you got to class,” Scootaloo asked.

          “I read the poems aloud. When I finished, some of the class was angry, knowing that I was writing about them. But the majority loved the little rhymes. They said it made them laugh and realize how silly some of their behavior was. Amidst all the commotion, the quill appeared on my flank, symbolizing that I was to be a writer and bring people joy and knowledge through my writing.”

          “Wait a minute,” Diamond Tiara spoke up, “so like you made fun of everypony in your class and they accepted you for it?”

          “Well I wouldn’t say that, and it certainly wasn’t immediate. It wasn’t until after I published the poems along with a few more in a book called ‘Classroom Observations’ that everypony began to understand what I could do.”

          “What about your talent of writing multiple things at once,” Apple Bloom asked.

          “That’s not a natural talent, actually. I had to practice and teach myself how to do it. But it can’t be denied that I’m glad I figured it out.”

          “Wow, that’s amazing,” Sweetie Belle shouted.

          “Oh yeah,” Diamond Tiara interrupted, “well if he’s so like successful, then why have I heard that he like sleeps on a couch in your sister’s shop?”

          “Well it is true that I sleep on a settee, but that story is for another day.”

          *RING**RING**RING*

          “Well there’s the bell,” Cheerilee said, “be sure to thank Mr. Colter.”

          “So,” I heard Scootaloo talking to Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, “what’s the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ plan for today?”

          “I don’t know,” Apple Bloom sighed, “it feels like we’ve tried everything.”

          “You know,” Sweetie Belle suggested, “maybe we should ask Art. He knows what it’s like to wait for a Cutie Mark, I’m sure he’ll give us an idea.”

          “Hold your horseshoes girls,” I said, waltzing over, “it’s great that you’re trying new things to find whatever it is your special talent is, but I’m not the pony to ask for advice. The only pony who can guide you is yourself, and if that sounds like something Twilight would say, it’s because she’s right. And besides, I promised Rarity that I would bring Sweetie Belle home from school.”

          “Oh well,” Scootaloo said, “There’s always tomorrow.”

          …

          “Are you sure you can’t help me get a Cutie Mark,” Sweetie Belle whined as we made our way to Rarity’s shop.

          “Like I said, you are the only pony who can answer that question. Believe me, you’re a lot closer to finding out your talent than I was at your age.”

          “But it feels like you were born to be a writer.”

          “I was, but the problem was everypony thought they knew what I was going to be. My father thought I was born to be a painter or sculptor, my mother thought I was born to be a musician or perhaps a songwriter. Nopony ever asked me what I wanted to do, and that held me back. You and your friends are already passed that point, and that’s what I call progress.”