What if They Don't Like It?
The library stood still as Twilight skimmed through the sheaf of papers, only glancing at the cursive text on them. Her breath was short, and occasionally, she shook her head. Next to her by the table sat Rarity, a frown on her face.
Finally, Twilight levitated the papers back to the top of a shelf, shivering in disgust about the whole ordeal. No matter how she looked at it, the story just couldn’t be sent. “It’s not good, Rarity… or, well, it might be, but I should have toned down the heavy stuff to satisfy the target audience, because –”
“Twilight…”
“You don’t understand! They…“ Twilight paused, the look of her eyes empty. She struggled to find the right words. “They won’t see it the way I do, or even in the way you do. Literature isn’t that simple. I need to be clear and avoid subjects that might upset them. Actually, I –“
Rarity shook her head, levitating the papers back to the table. “Twilight –“
“No, be quiet! I know what you’re going to say!” Twilight could feel her stomach twist, and she nervously eyed the pages, feeling an urge to stuff them into someplace nopony would find them. The story wasn’t very long, nor was it full of action – it was a short and silly romance between two ordinary mares. “You’ll say that my take on the subject is interesting and my writing is excellent. However, you’ll also say that I’m a bit too analytic in my descriptions.”
Before Twilight could open her mouth again, Rarity stuffed a hoof on it. “No, I won’t say that. We’ve already talked about your story. It’s very good, trust me. Very good; not perfect. It doesn’t have to be!” Shaking her head, Rarity took the hoof off.
“Yes it does!” Twilight’s hooves were trembling slightly, and sweat was running down her forehead. The only thing she could feel was anguish over her creation, soon to be judged by ponies she’d never so much as seen. “When dealing with subjects like this, I can’t afford a single mistake. They’ll tear apart my story, from the tiniest little detail to all of the plot holes.”
Rarity sighed. “Stop. Breathe in, breathe out, and calm down.”
Unwilling to take her friend’s advice, Twilight continued to mull over the details of her story. She was sure there was at least one grammar mistake somewhere, and that was totally unacceptable. The story needed to perfect, or else it would only receive comments of dislike… perhaps even disgust. “I don’t think I can do this, Rarity. What if they don’t like it? I know some won’t. Sure, I hope on some level that it generates huge interest and everything, but… just… I can’t! The last time I did something like this, nopony liked the story. They didn’t like me. They –“
“Twilight!”
Twilight opened her mouth, but then closed it again. Rarity was sternly glaring at her. There was an awkward silence as Twilight pondered what she should say, but finding no words, she shook her head in defeat.
“Don’t fret about it.” Rarity put a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “Whatever they’re going to say, keep in mind that I did like that story, and I’m liking this one even more. It’s not a disaster if your story doesn’t win any awards or get the recognition it deserves – you can’t always please the masses. A writer who strives only for something like that is sure to fail.”
Twilight snorted, but couldn’t help but smile a bit at Rarity’s words. Rarity was starting to sound almost like her. However, no matter how much she tried, Twilight still couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that was building up in her mind. She shuddered at the thought of having to face someone’s criticism. Would I… cry if they said bad things? she asked from herself.
“Trust me,” continued Rarity. “You’re good, and even if – and that’s a very big if – your story fails, that won’t make you a worse pony. Thinking about it, all the experience you’d get from your possible failings would make you an even better writer.”
“My failings? What does it matter if I’d get more experience? They’d never read another one of my stories again!”
“Please don’t overreact, Twilight…”
“But they could even hate me!” Twilight was starting to sound panicked, and the twist in her stomach was becoming very unpleasant. She coughed a few times, swallowing hard when she noticed the taste of bile in her mouth. Breathing slowly to calm herself down, she let out a nervous giggle, realizing that she was on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry. I know that I’m overreacting – it’s a part of my nature. If anything, I have learned that much from you girls. But… still… I…” Once again, Twilight shook her head. “It’s not that! I… I made a story of two mares falling in love! They’ll call me a fillyfooler… they…”
Giving Twilight a compassionate smile, Rarity looked her in the eyes. Twilight saw worry behind Rarity’s gaze. “Whatever happens, they’d never hate you! Don’t mix that up. Your stories don’t define you as a person. And what if they did? You’d still have nothing to be ashamed about.”
Despite craving for all the possible feedback, Twilight still felt anxious about the whole situation. The story would have to be sent this day, or else it wouldn’t be accepted for review and publication on Hoofington Daily. She sighed. “Alright, alright… just give me a minute.”
“It has to be posted today, Twilight. You can’t stall this forever.”
“I’m not stalling, I…” Twilight glanced at the sheaf of papers, turning her head away in the blink of an eye. “Just give a minute, Rarity. Please.”
Rarity kept her look stern, making Twilight turn her gaze down; she didn’t want to meet the demanding eyes of her friend. “Sure, Twilight,” said Rarity finally, breaking the silence before it got any more brooding. “Would you like it if I was there when you drop it into the mailbox? Having a friend by your side should help.”
“No. This is personal. I couldn’t possibly thank you enough for helping me with the story, but I really need to do this by myself.”
Closing her eyes, Rarity bit her lip. “Look, I just don’t want you to miss out on this opportunity. I know very well how bad criticism can feel. Are you completely sure that you don’t want me there?”
“I’m completely certain, Rarity. I can mail the story by myself.”
“Pinkie promise?”
Twilight twitched in her chair, coughing a few times. Even though she knew that she shouldn’t let her emotions take control like this, she couldn’t prevent her hooves from shaking. Twilight felt like she could throw up any moment, and kept her breaths as calm as possible to prevent it from happening. Rarity’s proposal was simple and natural: a promise. Somewhere in the back of her head, Twilight had thought that if things got really tense, she could back off just before dropping the envelope into the mailbox. The idea of an unbreakable promise made the situation seem very bleak and brooding. It was now a pure lose-lose choice: if Twilight wouldn’t make the promise, she’d deeply upset Rarity. On the other hoof, if she made it, there would be no turning back.
Are you really even considering this? Twilight swallowed again, raising her hoof before she locked up completely. To her, the hoof looked almost menacing from that close. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”
At long last, Rarity broke out a smile. She rose up and gave Twilight a warm hug, making her feel a bit fuzzy inside. Rarity’s entire body radiated comforting warmth, soothing Twilight’s pounding heart. Twilight felt great to have friends like her. “I’m sorry for being so adamant, darling. I just felt like I couldn’t allow your talents for writing go to waste.”
“Don’t worry,” Twilight said, letting her friend go. Feeling a little more comfortable, she returned Rarity’s smile. “If anything, I should thank you. I could never have expected this to be so hard. Without your… err… pressure, I might not even have sent the story.”
“No need to thank me. I was just doing what any friend would.” Rarity glanced at the clock and frowned. “I really need to return to the boutique. The dresses won’t be stitching themselves. See you later, Twilight!”
“See you!” Rarity dashed out of the door, swinging it closed with such force that the walls shook for a while.
As soon as the library fell silent, Twilight’s anxiousness returned. She levitated a random book from the shelf, but threw it away before so much as reading the title. There’s no turning back now. Every moment you wait will just make it harder. Twilight determinedly stomped the floor, rose up from the chair, and took the sheaf of papers in her levitation. Levitating an envelope from between two books, she tried to do everything as fast as possible, for she knew herself well. Before Twilight got the chance to reconsider, the papers were in the envelope and the envelope had been sealed.
Of course, that wasn’t the hardest part – not even close. Twilight triple-checked whether the name and address on the envelope were correct, barely constraining the urge to do it a few more times just to be sure. Get going. Just like Rarity’s dresses won’t be stitching themselves, the letter won’t send itself. This is not a friendship report. No, this is much more serious.
Trying her best to keep her thoughts on other matters, Twilight dashed out with even more hurry than Rarity, levitating the envelope alongside her. But right as she got out and met the surprisingly bright summer day, the problems began. Even the few ponies walking past her seemed to be overwhelming. What would they think if they read her story? In her story, the weather was much like this – clear and warm. The plot was about a cheesy, steamy romance with no real conflict to talk about. Again, Twilight’s stomach twisted, making her cough violently. Her hooves were almost limp, and she felt the contents of her stomach inch up her throat. Tears were swelling up in her eyes. Don’t let your emotions reign over you. You can do this.
Only now did it come to Twilight that she could’ve just teleported to the mailbox. It was standing only fifty feet down the road, after all… but now that she’d finally realized that, she couldn’t even hope to maintain her focus long enough to actually perform the spell. Keeping her eyes on the ground and constantly swallowing, Twilight started the short, yet excruciatingly long march towards the ominously crimson box of doom.
Step by step, Twilight got closer. She could feel the beat of drums in her mind, her hooves rising and descending with the slow tempo. Her objective was still over forty feet away. Take this as a test… no, as a fight. Swallowing hard once more, Twilight carried on, unfazed by the bystanders who were giving her curious looks.
Twilight shivered at the thought of the imaginary bayonets pointed at her down the range. She was beginning to understand what it must have felt like for the Royal Guards to march unto their death during the Northern War. This is was it – destiny was calling.
Twenty feet… the final twenty feet was still ahead. Almost hearing the rumble of cannons behind her, Twilight picked up her pace. She saw the glistening eyes of the enemies, stalking her from behind roadside bushes and innocent civilians. Twilight was still shivering profusely – for her, it could have been winter.
Twilight’s eyes narrowed, and she had to struggle to keep walking. Death or glory!
The metallic menace was now finally in front of Twilight. She stopped, taking a short, measuring look at the box – from up close, it looked just as horrifying as from afar. White letters on it read Royal Mail. Twilight’s mind was hazy, and she was barely standing from the shaking of her hooves.
After a last, good look at the box, Twilight’s mind was filled with determination – a grand push towards the objective. Storm the palisades!
Disregarding the ache in her stomach and the pounding of her heart, Twilight levitated the envelope inside. A terrible feeling of fatalism struck her, and her head spun. It was now final. There would be no going back. Victory or defeat – whatever happened, she’d been brave.
Twilight sighed in relief, noticing a few tears rolling down her cheeks.
