A.K. Yearling's Writer's Block

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

For the past hour or so, A.K. Yearling had been sitting at her desk with a mug of coffee gone cold, fresh quills, and a stack of paper in front of her; with her aging bones, the mare couldn't quite adventure as she used to, leaving desperate fans without a very realistic piece of fiction to enjoy. So, she had decided to take initiative, to sit down and actually not recreate a moment in her life. For once, she had decided to be original.

Now, it was clear that this was the biggest mistake of her life.

Yearling had started off optimistic, thinking that she create the next Prancy Drew, Pegasus Jackson, The Pheonix Games, Marevirgent... instead, she had let her page sit blank, and her Inkwell dry up. Nothing was coming to her brain.

Spinning around,, the Pegasus pony glared at the compass on her flank with hate-filled magenta eyes, snarling down at the cutie mark.

"You. You did this to me." She muttered coldly, staring at the mark of her destiny with rage. "You could've been a quill, or a parchment, but no, you just had to be a compass, didn't you?!" The pony ended her short-lived rant of horomones with a quick huff of anger as she slouched into her seat, face extremely cross.

Fed up with her own supposed stupidity, Yearling began complaining to nopony, waving her hooves in the air for dramatic effect. "Honestly, though, wouldn't you think that I could've come up with something?" The mare griped, stomping her hoof for unneeded emphasis. "I've written and illustrated one of the most popular book series of all time - regardless of whether it's my actual life or not, I should be able to at least put something on the table!"

At this point, Yearling finally finished with her emptyy and meaningless rant, proceeding to utterly faceplant onto the desk with a small sigh. "I have no purpose anymore." She groaned, her voice muffled by the empty pages of her defeat. After all, what was she to do? Now that she was aging, she couldn't go and adventure out like she used to; the only thing that she could do would be to get somepony to cast a spell on her in order to send her back to younger years...

Wait... Cast a spell...

Cast a spell...

"Of course!" She cried out suddenly, jerking her head up as she did so. "I could write a story about a young, orphaned colt who is one day found out to be a wizard by some big guy... from there, he goes to wizarding school, learns to cast spells, gets into daring adventures, and - possibly the biggest plot twist of all - makes friends with a ginger!!!! Finally, I've got something!"

Grabbing one of her writing utensils in her mouth, the pegasus pony instantly began scribbling, letting her ideas spill out onto the pages before her. After a few mintutes of working, the mare glanced up from her desk, taking a tiny break, and let her eyes wander. Absently, they graced over her messy living room, past the dusty couch, cluttered stacks of fan-mail, and remnants of dinner plates until they finally landed on her bookshelf.

Celestia, she loved that bookshelf. Everything on it was top notch, better than anything she had seen or read before; in fact, at the moment, she was in the middle of the Harry Trotter series right now -

... Oh. I'm copying the Harry Trotter series...

"ARGH! THIS IS POINTLESS! I'M NOTHING BUT THE GOVERNMENT'S ROBOT, MY EXISTENCE IS A LIE!" The pegasus pony shrieked, hurling her quill to the floor. With another disgruntled shout, Yearling shoved her papers into the air, letting them flutter around her as she kicked her coffee mug in anger. The cold coffee drizzled downwards into her seat cushion, soaking it through with the freezing liquid; using this as a motive for what to destroy next, Yearling grasped the cushion in her hooves and proceeded to hurl it across the room. The cushion landed against the wall with a splat, leaving a very noticeable brown stain on her yellow walls.

At this point, Yearling's left eye was twitching, and she couldn't help but snort a little for dramatic effect, steam billowing from her nostrils as she did so. Her eyes blazed with hate-fire, and her wings were splayed out and rigid in anger. This is ridiculous! Why can something as simple as writer's block be so... Destructive?

Then, the light began to shine. The little creative spark finally caught, and Yearling calmed, her wings folding up once more. With worried eyes, she took in the mess that she had created, and her ears went back in mild shame. How could she have done this?

At least something good came out of it.

Gently, Yearling grasped a sheet of paper, moving it back up to her desk. Next, she retrieved her fallen quill from it's lonely place on the floor, placing it next to her inkwell. The pegasus then proceeded to mop of the coffee and replace her seat cushion before finally sitting down. To test out her newfound idea, she decided to write a bit to see if it would stick...

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

For the past few hours, A.K. Yearling had been sitting at her desk with a mug of coffee gone cold, fresh quills, and a stack of paper in front of her...