On A Quill And A Prayer

by Starlight Shadow

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life
Length: 1000

How Starlight Shadow found her passion.

Starlight Shadow is average. Completely and utterly. Just a Manehattan weather worker, nothing to see here.

But she's always had a gift for writing. It's how she got her cutie mark. She would pick it up as a career, except it's not exactly steady bits. But one fateful Saturday, out of boredom, she decides to write a story for a local magazine.

—-

My 30th story! Yay! So have a story about me.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-05-04 21:20:04 UTC

"Eh, why the heck not?"

Starlight Shadow sat on top of an old building, watching the city. She always sat up here when she wanted to think. And she had quite a few things to think about. Particularly the interesting little tidbit she'd heard at a coffee shop about a local magazine accepting stories written by freelance writers.

She wasn't a freelance writer - she was a weather worker - but she figured she might give it a shot all the same. Writing was how she got her cutie mark, a blue quill standing out against her purple coat. She'd always carried around a notebook as a foal, writing nonsense short stories about characters of her own making. She had stopped writing when she discovered that writing didn't provide the steadiest income. Though she still carried around the notebook out of habit. She tossed a meaningful glance at the old thing. A quill and some ink sat on top of it, beckoning her.

She turned away from it and continued staring down at the city, with all its lights and sounds. As much as she liked the city, sometimes it was overwhelming. Writing had been that means of escapism for her, where she could control everything down to the tiniest detail. Another glance at her notebook, pen and ink. Surely it wouldn't hurt her to just give it a shot...

She tugged the notebook over to her with one hoof, careful not to let the ink fall off. She nudged the notebook open with her nose and took the pen in her mouth. Pushing the pages that were written all over away, she stared at the empty page.

What was she going to write about?

Something sweet, she thought, something warm and fuzzy.

Dipping the pen in her ink, a drop fell on the stone. She stared at it. It seemed almost defiant. It gave her an idea.

She wrote "Ink Blot" at the top of the page, underlining it as neat as she could. Sometimes, defiance is a good thing. Ink Blot knows this well. But sometimes, it isn't. She's about to learn why.

A nice beginning.

It felt good to write again, nothing but her and her paper and ink. Her mouthwriting was a bit sloppy after so long writing nothing more than a few sentences for cloud shipments every so often, but she didn't care.

After about an hour, Ink Blot was finished. It was a story about a little filly learning about how sometimes you should just follow orders, because the ponies giving them care about your safety. She had decided not to write her name at the bottom, just for the fun of being anonymous.

She set her pen down and stared at her finished project in victory. Now to mail it.

A quick flight down to the post office yielded an envelope and stamp. She asked some pony for the address, carefully writing it in the middle of one side.

Then she dropped it in the mailbox and went home.

A month passed and Starlight forgot about her story entirely, until she heard two ponies talking about it after work.

"I liked it. A nice little message, and Ink was adorable."

"I know! Shame nopony knows who wrote it. I'd like to congratulate them."

She stopped. Ponies...liked it?

She shrugged it off. Just a few, no big deal. But she felt warm and fuzzy inside all the same.

Later, she went to her coffee shop, and had forgotten the overheard conversation. Sipping her coffee, humming a tune, she heard more ponies talking about it.

"There was no author name. Kind of a shame, it was a good story."

"Yeah, really good. I'm cutting it out and saving it."

That warm, fuzzy feeling blossomed inside her again. Somepony was going to cut it out and save it. Her writing. They thought it was good. It made them happy.

The magazine was specifically catered to publishing the stories of freelance writers. If her first one for the magazine was this well-recieved, maybe she could write a few more. Maybe she could get her income that way, instead of tedious hours of weather work. Maybe she could write an entire novel.

She had a few ideas, she had her notebook, she had her ink. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Pushing her notebook open, she flipped to the next empty page. Dipping the pen in her ink, she stared at the page.

What was she going to write about?

She thought for a moment. She could write about any number of things. That's what made writing so great to her as a filly. Maybe she could write about creatures of her own making. With two legs, instead of four...

An idea began to rapidly form in her mind. She began to write, spinning a tale of a creature that had no magic or wings, and walked on two legs instead of four.

"Hey, what are you writing?"

Starlight gently set her pen down and turned to face Lyra, a friend of hers. "I thought of an idea for a story I might write in the future."

"Good. Writing always seemed to help you back when we were kids. What's the idea?" Lyra sipped her own beverage.

"I'm writing about a creature that has two legs instead of four, and has no magic, or wings." She was surprised at how much she liked talking about her inspiration with Lyra.

"Two legs? No magic? Star, you've officially lost it. I called it all those years back. No such creature exists." Lyra smirked.

Starlight smiled playfully. "That's what makes it so fun."

"To you writer types, I guess." Lyra sat across from her all the same, her gaze softening. "You know, I'm still here to help you, if you need it."

"Thanks, Lyra." Star gave Lyra a nod of gratitude before picking up her pen again.

She liked her world of ink and paper. Why did she ever push it aside?