Life is an Unwritten Book

The reddish unicorn looked over the crowds separating him and Written Script.  A rather fake smile adorned his features, the ends curled upwards just a little too much and just a little too much teeth were showing through.

“Ah, Written Script!” he called.  The crowds parted as he walked up to Written, but followed in his wake.  “How have you been lately?”

“I was doing fine until about a minute ago,” Written replied as he walked to meet the reddish unicorn.  With a sudden jolt of an idea, he held up his hoof to shake Metal Quill’s and his voice lightened in tone almost immediately.  “So, what brings you around to my self-made signing party?”

Metal Quill brushed the hoof aside; Written could see with some satisfaction that some of the ponies fawning over Metal Quill seemed surprised by the gesture.  “Oh, I figured I’d come around and see how you were doing and whether or not you were coming to the Canterlot signing.”

“I thought you had a big tour lined up for that sort of thing.  What happened?”

“Oh, a few local celebrations and events were going on at the same time, so some of them got rescheduled.”

“I am so sorry to hear that,” Written said, faking a bit of concern in his voice.

“Don’t be,” Metal Quill replied.  “I’ve had plenty of sympathy already and I can’t have anymore.”

Written Script went to open his mouth to speak again, but Metal Quill suddenly pushed him off the steps of Sugarcube Corner.  Written stumbled and nearly fell into Final Draft’s table he’d set up, and it took both of the unicorns using their magic to keep the table, the magazines, and Final Draft’s cash intake from falling and spilling all over the place.  The two unicorns placed the items in Final Draft’s saddlebags, then dashed into Sugarcube Corner.

Metal Quill was silently examining the inside of the sweet shop, looking at the tables for eating and the small setup for refreshments.  “Well, isn’t this quaint.”  Metal Quill nodded as though in amusement.  “It’s small, yes, but at least it’s something.”

“I’m aware of what you’re trying to do, Quill.”  Final Draft’s baritone was calm and steady, though Written could hear a building fury underneath it.  “I’m going to need you to vacate the premises.”

“Whoa, hold on there,” Metal Quill replied, holding up a hoof as though blocking Final Draft.  “I just wanted to check in and see.  I’m not here to gloat.”

Final Draft raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, it’s nice what you got here, and all,” Metal Quill continued.  “It’s got everything.  There’s the stand selling the magazine you’re in, the refreshments are all laid out, and you even have a little tip box here.”

“That is for autographs,” Written Script said.

Metal Quill nodded and bent over to look at the glass box.  “Right… how many is it?”

Written Script shrugged.  “I don’t exactly follow.”

Metal Quill looked over with a raised eyebrow.  “What do you mean?  You can’t figure out what I’m asking?”

“That was improper grammar,” Twilight butted in.  “I’m pretty sure you meant ‘How much is in there’ or ‘How many autographs have you given’.”

Metal Quill spun around to look at the purple unicorn behind him, currently glaring at him.  “And who are you?”

“I’m Twilight Sparkle,” Twilight replied.  “I’m a graduate of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.”

“She also happens to be my friend and editor,” Written added.

Metal Quill looked back and forth between Twilight and Written before finally settling back on Written.  “She’s your editor?”  He gave out a small chuckle.  “Well, that’s something.”

“Who do you have?” Twilight challenged.

“Me?”  Metal Quill took a few steps towards Twilight.  “Well, I must say I edited it myself.  I spent my college years studying language arts, creative writing, and editing and I did pretty decently.”

“Your earlier statement says you need a little more training.”

“Twilight, calm down.”  Written walked over and stood between Metal Quill and Twilight; Final Draft came over and stood alongside him.  “It is something of a feat to be admired.”

Metal Quill smirked and nodded, though to the crowds watching it could have passed for a normal smile.  “Indeed.  Reviews have stated it’s quite the feat for a young author to come and write and edit a novel worthy of publication by himself.”

There were awed murmurs from the crowd.  Clearly they had not been put off by the way Metal Quill had been brushing off Written’s own attempts at being nice.  Metal Quill had once again put himself a step forward in public opinion with his vanity.

Metal Quill turned to Amalthea, who had been silent nearly the whole time.  “And who are you?  You must have some sort of position to be part of his entourage.  What is it, secretary?”

“I have no position,” Amalthea said.  “I don’t need one.  Not when he’s been kind enough to share his work and life with me.”

Metal Quill seemed unsure of how to respond to this.  He opened his mouth but nothing came out and eventually he closed it again.

“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fans of your own, though,” Amalthea continued, her voice just on the edge of mocking and patronizing.  “Must be someone out there who you would be willing to share your talents with.”

“I don’t need one,” Metal Quill finally spoke up, though his voice shook a little as he spoke.  “I don’t need to share my talents with any one pony.  My work is out there for them to see.  They… they can see it easily.”

Amalthea nodded.  “I haven’t.”

“What do you mean?  Of course you can.  You can just go down to the bookstore and see it right now, as a matter of fact.”

“I saw the book,” Amalthea said.  “But I had a problem seeing the talent.  Why someone would like you and all that.”

Written, Twilight, and Final Draft all looked at Amalthea warily.  The crowd all looked at Metal Quill and gasped.  Amalthea herself seemed unperturbed.

“You can’t see my literary ability?” Metal Quill said after a while.

“Oh, the ability is quite plainly out in the open,” Amalthea said without skipping a beat.  “But this whole evening I’ve seen nothing but mocking acknowledgements and questionable compliments.”

Metal Quill took a step backwards.  “Why would Written be with somepony like you?  I mean, how do you benefit him at all?”

“Because he’s a gentleman,” Amalthea said quietly.  “He gave someone an autograph for free because he saw how he inspired someone and said that was a greater joy to him than receiving the bit.”

Metal Quill gave a “hmph” and turned back to Written.  “Well, let me again invite you to the Canterlot signing, the biggest of the lot.  I would appreciate it if you were there.”  Written thought there might have been too much emphasis on ‘appreciate’ as Metal Quill turned towards the door.  “Final Draft, make sure that Written Script and whoever is with him are able to enter without question.  And make sure we’re able to have those dates we rescheduled for; I don’t want another setback.”  And he continued out the door.

“I will if you leave him alone,” Final Draft said quietly but firmly so that everyone present could hear him.  It was a tone of voice that Written had learned early to avoid.  “I might be preparing these signings for you, but I am not your servant.  Watch your tongue.”

Metal Quill stopped in his tracks and turned around to face Final Draft.  His eyes were large as saucers and Written could see his mouth go dry from fear for the first time that night.

“Written Script has been trying to be accommodating to you despite your differences,” Final Draft continued.  “I expect you to do the same.  Now move.”

It wasn’t shouted, but it may as well have been.  Metal Quill jumped and fled, while the crowds stared at Final Draft, who looked out at the crowd.

“Does anyone else have something to say about Written?” Final Draft asked.

The crowd silently broke apart, leaving four unicorns alone in Sugarcube Corner.

Final Draft turned around.  “I apologize for his behavior,” he said, his baritone softening as he spoke to Written Script.  “I told him nothing of this event.  I wish it had gone better.”

“From the looks of the bits from the magazines and the autographs,” Written replied, “not all was lost.  And I probably gained a few more positive reviews from those who detract his behavior.”

“No one is immune to criticism,” Twilight said gently.  “You have learned to work with it, to use it to your advantage and grow.  I fear what will happen to Metal Quill once he learns he’s not so above it all as he thinks.”

“I share your concern, Miss Twilight,” Final Draft said.  “He could break down on the circuit.  I’ll be spacing his appearances apart for his sake.”

Twilight volunteered to stay behind and help the Cakes clean up from the reception.  Final Draft collected the bits from the autographs along with the magazines and took them and the remaining copies back to the publishing house.  Written Script and Amalthea headed out into the cool evening, taking a copy of the magazine with them, and began to walk home.

“Thank you for standing up for me back there,” Written Script said to Amalthea.

Amalthea smiled.  “I feel like I should pay you back for all you’ve done,” she said, her tone much lighter than earlier.  “It was something I could do, attempting to bring him down a peg.”

“Your companionship has been more than enough to pay me back.”

“Still, he was as bad as you described him to be.  Perhaps even worse.  If only there was something we could do.”

“What can we do?” Written asked.  “Apart from asking a higher power, there’s not much except to let Final Draft manage his affairs.”

There appeared in Amalthea’s eye a mischievous glint that Written did not like.  “A higher power, huh?”  A smile began to grow across her face.  “We could always use the journal.”

“Are you kidding me?” Written hissed quietly.  “What if something else pops up from that like you did?  I don’t want anyone getting suspicious of what’s going on, and I don’t want to do anything bad to Metal Quill.”

“You don’t have to alter Metal Quill,” Amalthea said slyly.  “Just boost yourself.  Do small things.  Make there be one positive review from a well-known editor.  Or have there be one local bookstore that sells out on a magazine containing your work.  There could be one decent-sized publisher expressing interest in your work, only for you to later decline in favor of loyalty to Ponyville’s publishing house.  It would be a boost to your work and to your character.”

“If that journal could do that through sheer willpower of me writing in it, I’d almost say it’s a dangerous magical artifact that needs to be thrown away, or at least hidden under lock and key.  What could happen if it fell into the wrong hooves?”

“It hasn’t.  Clearly it came to you for some reason, being that you would be able to handle the responsibility of it more than others.  I mean, look at you.  You already are wary and cautious of using it.”

“Because the last time I used it, I created a living, breathing thing with flesh and blood and bone on a whim and without entirely meaning to.”

“But now you know its power,” Amalthea said as they approached and entered Written Script’s house.  “You know what it can do.  All you have to do is use it wisely.”

Written Script walked into his writing room and looked at the journal.  The runes on the front called out to him, as did the multitude of blank pages within.  There was an ink pot with a quill inside it, along with a few pencils.  He gulped.

“Where do we begin?”