The Internal Ramblings of a Fanficcer's Mind
What is this, I don't even...
Okay.
Right…
…
Oh, come on!
That idea had to be around here somewhere! I’d spent the last three days unable to shift it from the front of my head when I had something genuinely important to do, and the moment I actually sit down to put it to… well, electronic paper…
Cack.
“Ooh ooh ooh! I remember what your idea was, Author! Remember? You though that the Cakes seem to be getting more screen time this season, and that gave you an idea! So you spent a whole two hours wondering about how I ended up living with them, remember?”
“Uhh…Pi- You?”
“Yes, AJ?”
“Ah don’t think yah should be talkin’ about all that right now. Besides, Ah’m pretty sure we ain’t suppose’ t’call each other by name.”
“Really?! Well, that’s silly! What’s the point of us even being here if we can’t talk to each other?”
“Uhh…”
“Exactly! Anyway, Author, you remember that story about me, don’t you?”
Yes. Yes I did.
It couldn’t have been two hours I spent thinking about it. Or at least, I hope it wasn’t; that essay on inselberg formation wasn’t going to write itself.
The sooner I got this out of my head, though, the sooner I could get that off my chest.
Right, opening scene. Little filly Pinkie and her world-is-wonderful smile bounce their way into Ponyville, somehow keeping her bindle perched across her back.
“Aww…”
“Oh, yessie-yes! I remember this day. It was such a fun-”
“Pinkie, I-ugh… consarn it.”
Okay, Pinkie has made her…unique entrance.
“I still say you should’ve made me take those fillies for a flight over town with some balloons. Actually, I just did! Hehehehe-”
“But Pinkie’s just a little filly in this’ere story. Where would she even get all them balloons?”
“Oh, same place I always get them, silly!”
…
“Raahhght… Ah fer one think yah’ve done a good job here, Author. Not descendin’ too far into Pinkie’s…uh, pinkie-ness will give this work a lot more of an even hoofing.”
Yes.
Sit-rep. Pinkie’s walked into town, met a couple of ponies and made them smile through sheer-
“Balloooons…”
-‘bubbliness’, and invited them all to a party that she’s planning for that evening. Oh, also, include a couple of references to something troubling.
“‘A couple’? Pardon me, Author, but I don’t think that will be quite enough.”
“Oh, nonsense, darling. This is a Pinkie Pie scene, after all. It needs to be light, and bouncy, and positively bursting with joie de vivre! It can’t be weighed down with too many dark thoughts.”
“Hmm… I suppose that is true… But, I still think it needs a few more, at least. Pinkie is a pony who acts exclusively on emotion. If something is troubling her, especially something of this magnitude, then surely she’d think about it rather a lot?”
“Of course, darling, and that does make sense. However, remember that this is still Pinkie. Just having the contrast of a thought like that will be sure to catch the readers’ eyes. Think of it as using a brightly coloured gem on an otherwise plain garment. Obviously, I’d never let any of my creations be regarded as plain, but you get the idea, don’t you?”
“Ah agree. It seems a lot more likely that Pinkie’d try’t hide away all those horrible feelings. She’s not one to dwell all the time.”
“Yeah, Twilight! It’s not like I spend every other night curled up in my old blankey with only Gummy and a great big chocolate cake for company, crying myself to sleep because I love my Ma and my Papa and my sisters so so much! Because I don’t want them to be mad at me, but I still left them all those years ago because they wouldn’t let me throw parties all day, so they’ve probably spent all this time wondering what they did wrong. Wondering what they did that would make their little filly run away from them and not even talk to them for ten whole years. Wondering what they could have done to stop me, and wondering how they’re going to live their lives always thinking that they drove their baby away. But because it’s been so long, I can’t talk to them because I don’t know how they’re going to react! Would they be angry? Would they even want to talk to me? Would we all just collapse into one big hug and forgive each other. I don’t know! So I just lie there, wondering how long it will be before this big hole in my heart starts to heal.”
…
“Darling…”
“Uhm…”
“Is there something yah want to talk about, Sugar-cube? We’re all ears, here.”
“Nope! Like I said, ‘it’s not like’ I do all that stuff.”
…
“…Of course… Writing! We’re supposed to focus on the writing! Remember, though, that the other thing you need to remember is that you shouldn’t overload the reader. They’re intelligent, and they can pick up small clues. You remember how we started off, don’t you?”
“Yes, and I do know that we shouldn’t put in every little detail in our efforts to immerse them in our work. But, I also think that this huge block of Pinkie-esque ramblings-”
“Hey!”
“-could do with just a little more than two references. Those that we have are likely to get lost in there.”
Both right. As always.
Can’t hint too heavily…
“Of course not! That would be so… so, clumsy!”
But can’t leave it out entirely, either. There has to be just enough to leave an impact.
Oh well, I suppose I could add in one more reference to something being a little off. After all, that would tie-in with the “rule of three” idea. Maybe…
That’s it! It’s so obvious! Make her wonder if something replaced her sweets with sour suckers as she spots a family frolicking in the park! And then realise she isn’t snacking, for once, and then wonder why her lips went tense and crunched up.
Genius. Serendipitous genius, and quite utterly so, but genius nonetheless!
Okay, maybe not genius, actually. Reasonably good, though, I’ll allow myself that. Maybe.
Now, all I have to do is tread lightly and it might do really rather well.
“Misplaced comma.”
Thanks for that.
“You’re welcome. And I don’t think that word needs to be capitalised.”
And again.
So, Pinkie’s just finished talking to a couple more ponies to see if they want to join in the fun later. They both say yes, but something seems a little bit off about their smiles. Oh well, it can’t be anything bad. This is such a nice, colourful town. Maybe they’re just wondering about whether they need to bring anything like cakes or balloons.
“Balloooons…”
She decides to forget about it, and bounces away in search of more friends.
“Oh, this is such a lovely story. I’m sure the readers are going to love this.”
“Hmph. Maybe. Sure, they all seem to like Pinkie antics as much as the next pony, but we all know what the readers of this site want. This just isn’t it at the moment.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, this is quite a quiet story at the moment, but it’s sweet, short and there’s the possibility of some world-building in the future. Who knows, maybe one of them will be kind enough to comment. We might even get a favourite!”
“Yeah. Still won’t be going anywhere near that feature bar.”
As the sun sets overhead, Pinkie continues to bounce around the streets of this new town. She bumps into fewer and fewer ponies now, as doors close and lights flicker on behind curtains. But that doesn’t matter to her. She’s already made plenty of friends today, and very soon they were all going to meet up for her most amazing party yet. She’d only put on about three before, but that didn’t matter either. She knows that this one would still blow all her others out of the water.
So where was everypony?
“Aww, yeah! I’m liking where this is going!”
She hops on the spot, facing a new direction with each hoof-fall, her massive and adorable smile fading away with each empty street she faces.
“Come on, you know you want to!”
It’s getting really dark at this point. The only way she can still see is through the pale light of the moon, but all it’s showing her is more empty streets.
“Almost there!”
She is alone.
“Yes!”
She feels something brush past her and ruffle her thin coat. She’s cold. She’s never been out this late before. Not even-
Good time for another reference, and another push back.
She notices a doorway off to the side and trots over to it.
“Darling, I can’t help but think that she wouldn’t be walking over to the doorway? Surely she should be trudging, or at least be dragging her hooves?”
Excellent suggestion. She trudges to the doorway, and curls up to try and get warm. But, try as she might, she can’t quite manage it. She wonders why this is so, and ends up stumbling into a long ramble about how awful she feels about leaving home.
“There’s a lot more to it than that, though. Silly Author! There’s the part about how angry I feel with my parents for not letting me party and wanting me to be a rock farmer. But balloons don’t have anything to do with rocks, do they? But then there’s the part where I realise that my talent’s supposed to be about bringing joy to everypony, and that my parents can’t be happy with me gone. Whether they’re sad or angry, they’re not happy, and then I realise how of course they’d be sad! They just lost their filly over some argument. And then I realise how much I miss them both and my sisters too! And then I look back out into the streets. I can feel something trickling down by nose, but it’s not raining out there. In fact, there’s nopony out there at all. So I reach into my bindle and have a party with some of the things I brought with me. That’ll be fun.”
“Uh-huh, sure it will. And this scene of a cutesy little filly all alone and crying on somepony’s doorstep means that this is officially a sad-fic! INSTANT FEATURE!”
“Oh, no, no! We’re not doing this story angle for that, are we?”
“Well, Ah can’t find anythin’ that makes this seem outta place. Pinkie starts crying over making somepony really upset, and tries to cheer herself up with a party. Seems fine t’me!”
“That’s what I said, and it’s about me, silly!”
“Exactly. And everypony knows that all the readers want to see is their favourite ponies getting their dreams crushed or falling in love.”
“Yeah, that’s why there are so many stories of you getting your wings broken and then making kissy-smoochie faces with AJ!”
…
“Still. Sad and shipping sell.”
“But these stories ain’t up for sale.”
“And surely we’re supposed to be writing for our own happiness. I know it’s satisfying when somepony comments on and likes our work, but our own enjoyment is why we‘re writing this, isn’t it, Author?”
Well…
I want to say yes. I want it to be the only answer.
“See?! It’s not just about exposure, you know. How would you feel if you put all your energy and awesomeness into something that seems well-written enough, only for no one to read it because they’re too busy gawking at the third version of the same story that was tired the first time!”
“I…well…um…”
“Exactly!”
…
“I know you want us to write because we enjoy it, and you do like to write, don’t you Author?”
Yes. That I can at least say truthfully.
“And just because we’re writing a story we want to doesn’t mean we can’t have a little voice going ‘I hope the readers think this is awesome!’. I know because I am that voice! It’s the same one that tells m-Rainbow Dash to fly higher and higher during her stunts, and look at how awesome I-she is!”
I couldn’t deny that, either. Staying quiet for most of the writing process, except for maybe one or two scenes that I felt would be sure to explode the hearts or minds (or both, or something else entirely that I won’t go into detail over) of my readers, that voice would crop up as soon as my work got posted. And it would go quiet after two days of roughly a hundred views each, with a handful of comments to the effect of ‘good, hope to see more’ and maybe one in-depth analysis that I would attempt to thank endlessly.
It would also crop up whenever I plucked up the courage to send in my work to Equestria Daily. It would convince me to adorn it with an obnoxiously self-deprecating summary line and modesty that almost always seems fake when read but seems fine when I’m writing it.
It would also shut right back up about the time their replies came through.
I had intended to get this done before lunchtime. It’s just gone dark outside, and there isn’t even an eclipse I can blame for that.
Great. Now I’m procrastinating as I’m trying to stave off procrastination by writing something that came about through procrastination. Great…
“Did we sidetrack you? I’m sorry…”
Right, where were we?
“Party time!”
Yes! Pinkie was throwing a party for her stuff, but now there’s some noise behind the door. Two voices, one of a mare and the other a stallion, talking about a disturbance. Outside the front door.
The door opens, revealing a yellow stallion with an orange mane. Pinkie perks up and chirps a greeting. Maybe this stallion could join her party!
“About that other thing starting with ‘s’ that the readers like to see…”
“Stop it.”
“I really hope-”
“D’yah think Carrot Cake would do that? D’yah think Ah would let it happen?”
A slightly awkward scene follows as the two ponies talk about why such a little filly would be all alone on a doorstep in the middle of the night. Pinkie deliberately avoids answering the question in typical style.
Juts as Mr Cake is about to pry further, a blue mare with a mane that filly Pinkie just stops herself from diving into appears at his side. Before anything more can be said, she brings them both inside.
“I think you may have missed a couple of commas, there.”
“Oh, I think those may be an indication of rambling dialogue.”
“There’s more than that. Cup Cake just met Pinkie and she invites her into her house right away? That’s a little easy, doncha think?”
“Why’s that, Dashie?”
“Yeah. Cup Cake is a fine, upstanding member of Ponyville’s society. Ah don’t think she’d even consider turning a little filly with nowhere to go out of her home.”
“Hmph. I still think it needs to be a little bit tougher.”
“Well, this is only the opening chapter. Most stories of this genre will tend to leave the high-tension action scenes for a later stage, preferring to concentrate on getting the audience emotionally invested in their interpretation of a character’s past before potentially breaking their suspension of disbelief through said action sequences. Obviously, if this were an adventure story then it would require a little more fast-paced an introduction, but I for one feel that this fits well.”
“Agreed, though I do wish to quibble one line a little earlier. I don’t think that filly Pinkie would be ready to eat Cup Cake’s mane. She’s not…uhm…unintelligent.”
“Thanks, Rarity! But isn’t talking about characters AJ’s job?”
Once all of them get back in from the cold, Mrs Cake joins in the questioning. This time, Pinkie does answer. Vaguely, and along the lines of her not being sure her family would want to see her at the moment.
The older ponies tell Pinkie that they need to talk privately for a moment, and leave the room. While they’re gone, Pinkie takes a look around and notices something: she’s in a bakery! She bounds around the various display cases, each dessert reminding her of the time she spent with Granny Pie learning how to make these delicious treats!
And of home.
Before she can feel too upset again, though, the Cakes come back and chase away those nasty feelings. They offer her a place to stay for the night, and she accepts by bouncing around the room yet again and with a never-ending smile.
After sharing a look with her husband, Mrs Cake takes her up to the guest room. It’s nothing more than a soft bed and some drawers in a small room, but Pinkie can’t help smile and give Mrs Cake the biggest hug for all this. Maybe she’ll even get to throw a party tomorrow!
But she’d need to rest up first. With one final thank you to Mrs Cake, she climbs into bed and curls up into an adorable pink ball. Warm, snug and safe, and with her happy thoughts keeping the dark ones at bay, filly Pinkie finally drifts off to slumber land.
“And then somepony had sex.”
“DASHIE?!”
“What?! I’m just trying to get the story some views! Hehe… oh, all right. Keep it as this mushy, not-so-awesome thing. Anyway, wouldn’t the only ponies who could be Mr and Mrs-”
“Back on topic, Author, an’ I can safely say that yeh’ve got no complaints from me.”
“Me neither, Author Sir or Ma’am SirMa’am! Except… maybe I could bounce around the guest room too! Wouldn’t that be fun? With boings and springs and spriongs and-”
“Hmm… I’d have to agree with that, darling. It would give rather nice consistency throughout the chapter, and it certainly fits the tone.”
“Yes. Personally, I think it may be a little repetitive to list off a great series of verbs and adjectives again, though. Especially since Pinkie is likely to be exhausted by both her journey to Ponyville and her bouncing around in Ponyville. Perhaps it could be a very brief reference this time?”
“Yes, I suppose that would work. Wouldn’t want the ending to drag on too far, either.”
“Exactly. So far, I can’t recall noting any grammar mistakes or mistaken word usage, but it would be best to go back and check before submission.”
“Oh, it’s that time again, isn’t it. Ooh, I just know that the loyal readers will love this!”
“Yeah, right. Maybe one or two of ‘em’ll take a look. The rest will be slapping their keys over the latest DashPie wangst-fest.”
“Um… Sorry, but um… I don’t think that’s any way to talk about our readers. They’re kind and honest folk… they can appreciate the merits of all sorts of work.”
“Oh yeah? Let’s take a look at the feature bar, then-”
“Ooh! You mean the one with the exceedingly-popular-but-apparently-deservedly-so self insert story, the introspective piece about a background pony and the how certain parts of life pass us by, the story about you growing a horn and going on an adventure, the tale about Mother Faust coming to Equestria, and the sweet little comedy about Princess Celestia on a human TV show? That one, Dashie? Is it, huh huh huh?”
…
“Hmph.”
“See? Our readers can tell which stories deserve a look on their own. If ours reaches their standard, then we’ll get views. Maybe we’ll even get comments! Oh… I always love hearing from them!”
“Hmph.”
Right.
Time to step away from the keyboard, and let this story settle for a couple of hours, or even days. Then I can go back through and edit, when I’m a little bit less engrossed in the story and able to see my errors. Even so, that doesn’t always work if what my beta sends back is anything to go by…
Okay, let’s see. That kettle needs to be put on, and then maybe I can take a crack at that essay. I already managed to find several references to King’s work from the fifties, that might take me somewhere. Or maybe I could set about that proofreading for that story on the /fic board? Or maybe I could take on those chapters that that guy from the FiMFic group wanted me to fix? Or maybe-
On second thought, maybe that ending could do with a little bit more Pinkie-ness.