How To Write A Love Story (And Fail Miserably)

by Ivory Piano

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Comedy, Rarity, Big Macintosh, Twilight Sparkle
Length: 7161

Twilight has always been a secret fan of romance novels even though she doesn't understand how romance works. She's about to get a crash course.

Shelves aren't the only place Twilight Sparkle keeps books. In her room, beneath her mattress, lies a hidden enclave of romances that have rarely seen the light of the sun. Maybe she's read a few too many romance books before bed because, just as much as the characters in those books, she's in love. If only the author of those romance books could help her.

It's a good thing she knows the author. She just doesn't know it yet.

Published 2016-12-12 09:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2016-12-12 09:00:02 UTC

1. I Read It In A Book Once

You could tell a lot about a pony by the books they read. After years of looking after Golden Oaks, Twilight knew this better than anyone, and she knew the ponies of Ponyville better than perhaps they would have liked. Of course, Twilight never meant to figure out Cheerilee's passion for macrame, or that Rainbow Dash had checked out dozens of books on teaching and coaching. She didn't mean to find out about Aloe's love of gory high fantasy, or Caramel's passing interest in cheesemaking. It just happened.

It wasn't as if these were deeply buried secrets or anything, but still Twilight felt as if she had pried into places she had not been invited to. Most ponies had conversations, they talked, in order to get to know each other. Yet Twilight bypassed that aspect of friendship altogether. What made it worse, in her mind, was that she actually enjoyed figuring these things out. Each pony was like a puzzle, and each book they checked out was another corner piece.

With one exception.

Twilight straightened out the papers on her desk and set them aside. The library didn't close for another hour, yet it already stood completely empty. Ever since she started taking care of Golden Oaks, the hour between seven and eight in the evening ticked away in utter silence. Of course, that didn't mean no one would come at that hour. If that were true, she would have simply locked the front door at seven sharp. But she couldn't, or rather, she didn't want to. Her exception entered daily right around this time.

Big Macintosh walked in, and his usual scent of apples, soap, and a hint of earth that his shampoo couldn't fully get rid of, filled the library almost to bursting. Twilight had to hide her small smile as he began his usual ritual.

First, he went to the desk to return the book he had borrowed the night before. This time, it was a history book explaining the daily lives of ponies of the medieval era. Then, with a silent smile and nod, he would go to a seemingly random part of the library and use up the next hour perusing the spines on the shelves.

Twilight stared at the book he left on her desk with great curiosity. She looked up to make sure he wasn't gazing her way before pulling out a small list. Now was it ethical to keep an itemized list of every book Macintosh had checked out for the past two months? Twilight was more than happy to acknowledge it as a gray area, but the sheer volume of books he checked out along with the frequency with which he took them meant that even Twilight had a hard time remembering every single one.

What made it worse, or rather, more interesting, was that Big Macintosh seemed to never take books of the same subject twice. Amongst the list were books on the Equestrian school system, physics, poetry, formal griffon dress, music, and algebra, just to name a few.

All these books did nothing to help solve the puzzle that was Big Macintosh. In fact, it just made it more difficult, like one of those incredibly challenging jigsaw puzzles that were nothing but gray pieces. A puzzle that had to be solved not through glimpses at a picture but through the connections themselves.

But to think that Big Macintosh would be so hard to figure out came at a great surprise. Big Macintosh: the quiet, muscled farmcolt who loved to sing and would lie and dress up like a mare for the sake of his sisters, seemed a stallion of few words and fewer motivations. Worse still the fact that, slowly, Twilight was devoting more and more of her time thinking about what all his books could mean.

The hour must have passed by quickly, because by the time a soft thud on her desk snapped Twilight out of her thoughts, Macintosh was already waiting for her to write him up. He still had on that faint, little smile of his. Twilight rarely saw him without it, and yet it always felt like something...special.

Metallurgy: An Introduction. Twilight held back a sigh. Macintosh might be too complex for her to figure out.

"Read your article on Gramarye Today this morning. That theory of a single magic source was real interesting," Mac said.

Twilight felt her cheeks burn. He had been the first one of her friends to bring it up. She looked down at her desk and busied herself with recording the outgoing book in order to hide her reddening cheeks. "Oh, uh, thanks, but it was nothing really. It's just a neat thought experiment. There's really no way to prove it."

Macintosh chuckled. "Well, you know what Galileo said. Measure what is measurable-"

"And make measurable what is not," Twilight finished with a smile.

"Eeyup." Macintosh returned her smile and took the book.

He exited the library with Twilight staring at his backside. Why couldn't she stop grinning? Twilight shook her head to get the feeling of serene bliss out of her mind. She needed to close up for the night.

After locking the front door and turning off the lights, Twilight jumped onto her bed, covered herself with a thick blanket, and stared at the ceiling for a long while. Her clock ticked away and chimed the hour. She shook her head, she really was devoting too much time to him. She hadn't even started her usual bedtime reading yet. She dug beneath her mattress and pulled out a thick tome.

You can learn a lot from a pony by the books they read. Thankfully, Twilight didn't have to run her books past a nosy librarian. She turned on her nightstand lamp and gazed at the cover of her secret book. Flowering trees, their petals falling and twirling in the wind, framed a couple walking toward a large school building. Twilight traced her hoof across the golden lettering embossed above the artwork.

Beneath the Blossom of Love by Ebony Inkwell. It was Ebony's latest, and though the reviews claimed it a lesser successor to Don’t Make It Hard To Understand, most critics agreed that it was a sweet and innocent depiction of a mare's first love in high school.

Twilight rolled onto her stomach, pulled the sheets over her head, and used a pillow to prop up her front so her weight wasn't all on her front legs (and thus mitigate the chances of them falling asleep). She flipped open the cover, skipped through the front matter, and read.

The clock ticked the seconds away and chimed on the hour. First one, then two, but Twilight didn't notice the time whirling past. Rose Blossom and her high school romance proved too engrossing.

I stomped away from the cafeteria, and ignored the people calling my name, begging for me to stay. That idiot, that moronic stallion. I hated him. How could he ever think he knew how I felt?

I found a quiet patch of grass outside by the buckball field and looked up at the misshapen clouds lazily floating overhead.

It hurt, you know, having a stallion like him smile at you. Every time he did my mind would think he was smiling just for me. It didn't matter that he was popular and smart and kind and he was surrounded daily by mares and stallions alike that just wanted to be with him, I still foolishly believed that smile and that stallion was mine and mine alone.

Twilight sighed into her pillow. Poor Rose, Twilight knew exactly how she felt.

A blink, and her eyes widened. Wait a minute. She did? How? Twilight's cheeks burned hot as she remembered Macintosh. She groaned. No, no, that wasn't right. The way Twilight felt about Macintosh was nowhere near the way Rose Blossom felt about Love Tenacious. Twilight shook her head. She must be getting swept up into the story. She'd leave all that romance stuff to the professionals.

Twilight flipped the page and continued reading.

But it wasn't just his smile. The way he talked to me, even if it was just a passing comment as we passed each other in the hall. Those seconds-long conversations, though quick, were like bricks, each one giving foundation to a relationship built on quips, inside jokes, and esoteric trivia. A foundation suited for a friendship, something I would be more than happy with, if not for my greatest grievance against him.

He couldn't leave my mind. All day I thought of him, of that smile, of those rapid talks, of his ruggish good looks and razor wit. I pressed my hoof against my chest, my heart beat painfully against my ribs as a cold realization washed over me like a tidal wave. I had a crush on Love Tenacious.

I sighed a sigh almost half a growl. So what? So did half the school.

Twilight gulped hard. Her own hoof found its way to her chest. She could feel her heart beat furious. No. No, no, no, no, no. She did not have a crush on Big Macintosh. The very idea was...was...well, a crush would just be too much trouble for everyone involved. So what if he had a body like a modern Adonis and a big cutie mark? So what if his quiet, shy demeanor belied a rich tapestry of hidden interests and knowledge? So what if his deep, baritone voice cascaded thickly over her entire body like a bath of rich chocolate.

A dreamy sigh escaped Twilight's lips, muffled by her pillow. What was she talking about again? Her eyes widened as she remembered. No, no of course not. Of course not.

Right?

Twilight found sleep suddenly and without the memory of actually looking for it. The book, splayed in front of her, was the first thing she saw in the morning. She yawned and got up with the same quickness as a sloth covered in molasses. Ebony Inkwell could sure write a good story, she had stayed up later than she had meant. Well, at least it was Saturday today. Only a few ponies ever came on Saturday. She could risk taking the book downstairs as she worked. It wasn't as if an open book would be a strange sight on a librarian's desk.

After a shower and a quick brush, Twilight went downstairs and officially opened the library, which really just meant unlocking the door. Just as she predicted, very few ponies entered the library that day, and yet, instead of focusing back on her book, Twilight found herself thinking about her late night revelations.

She couldn't really have a crush on Big Macintosh, could she? It could very well have just been the book that put these flights of fancy in her head. It wouldn't be the first time. After she read her first Daring Do novel, Twilight spent a good week daydreaming about exploring hidden temples and facing off against supernatural foes...moreso than usual at least.

The bell above the library's door announced a visitor, and Twilight quickly came back to the here and now. Rarity sauntered in with saddlebags bursting with books. With her magic, she took them out and set them neatly on Twilight's desk.

"Hi, Rarity," Twilight greeted her friend. "How are you today?"

"Perfect, sweetie, absolutely perfect, but then, when am I not?" Rarity said with a chuckle. "I just came by to drop off these books from me and Sweetie Belle." Rarity quickly scanned the room. "Another quiet Saturday?"

"Eeyup," Twilight said as she recorded Rarity's books as returned. "I'm just passing the time with a little light reading."

"Sounds absolutely divine," Rarity said. She leaned over Twilight's desk and caught a peek at the book's running head before Twilight remembered to be embarrassed by it. "Oh, the new Ebony Inkwell book. I've heard lovely things. Though I do prefer my romances to have a bit more steam to them. How is it?"

Twilight blushed, perturbed at how easily she let her secret slip. Thankfully, Rarity's casual tone helped alleviate her embarrassment, if only a little. "I, well, I like it. I just got to the part where the heroine and the hero have a big misunderstanding that drives them apart."

"Oh, is that so?" Rarity asked, her face darkening with a sideways glare.

"Is something wrong, Rarity?"

Rarity blinked, and her glare faded. She chuckled to ease the tension that had developed. "Oh no, it's nothing. I was just thinking of a particularly stubborn stallion." She cleared her throat. "Now then, I won't keep you from your reading any longer. Enjoy your slow day." She turned to leave, but Twilight called out to her.

"Wait." Twilight had realized something as they talked. Rarity knew about romance, she always had. Plus, she read romance novels just like Twilight did. If anyone could help Twilight understand her own feelings, Rarity could. And why not? Rarity was as close a friend as Twilight had.

"Would you mind if I asked you something?" Twilight asked. "Something...private?"

Rarity quirked an eyebrow in genuine curiosity. "Of course, darling. You can talk to me about anything."

"Well, uh," Twilight grasped for the right words. After a few seconds it became painfully clear that a direct approach was best. "How do you know if you have a crush?"

Rarity chuckled. "Oh, that's easy, sweetie. Simply imagine you and your would-be paramour sharing an intimate kiss."

"That's it?"

"That's it," Rarity said. "But you must fervently imagine it as clearly as you can. Feel their breath, their heat, their scent."

Twilight tilted her head. Imagine a kiss? That seemed much too simple, but if Rarity told her to do it, then there must surely be a good reason. Twilight closed her eyes and really tried to imagine Macintosh in front of her. His deep emerald eyes, his bold red coat, those cute little freckles on his cheeks. Carefully, gently, he approached her, eyelids heavy, that sweet smile on his soft lips. Slowly, his lips came closer to hers. The smell of apples sugaring her nose, his muscular body towering over hers, it overwhelmed her.

Twilight snapped her eyes open. Her cheeks burned so hot they were threatening to turn the books around her into cinders. She shook her head to calm the fire hazard, and turned away from Rarity to spare her the spectacle.

"No! No! No! I can't do it. It's way too embarrassing!" Twilight yelled to the air. All the while Rarity watched with a knowing nod.

"I'm afraid there's no denying it," Rarity said. "You have a crush."

Twilight hung her head and turned back toward Rarity. Rather than look at her friend, however, she dropped her head onto her desk with a dull thud and gave a hopeless groan.

"What do I do?" Twilight whimpered.

Rarity smiled and rubbed Twilight's back in an effort to console her. "Twilight, sweetie, you don't have to do anything. Crushes come and crushes go. This one might only last until tomorrow, or it may last for years. What you need to understand is that they form from the ideal of a pony, all their good points, real or imagined. My suggestion is to get to know your crush better, get to know the real pony, beyond the ideal formed in your mind. Only then will you know whether it's a shallow attraction or something more."

Twilight looked up from the desk. "You mean, if I get to know Ma-m-my crush better, then it might go away?"

"That's right."

With a deep breath, Twilight stood up straight with a newfound resolve that puffed out her chest. "Then that's what I'll do. Thanks, Rarity, I'm really glad I talked to you."

Rarity smiled. "Of course, dear, any time you need it I'm always glad to lend an ear. I'll let you prepare, as I'm sure you'll want to come up with some plan." Rarity gave her goodbye and headed for the door again.

"W-wait," Twilight called out. Her resolve had quickly faded away, replaced with crippling uncertainty. "D-do you have any pointers?"

Rarity sighed, but smiled at Twilight. "Of course, but first tell me who it is," Rarity said as her smile turned not-so-innocent.

Twilight pressed her lips together. Well, she told her this much, might as well bare her heart. "Big Macintosh."

"Oh," Rarity said, her smile fading.

"What?"

"Nothing, dear, absolutely nothing," Rarity said. "I was simply hoping for somepony more...unexpected. But enough talk, let's get started, shall we?"

The next hour or so Twilight spent with Rarity, preparing lines, scenarios (both best case and worst case), and strategies to mitigate any possible hitches that might develop. Twilight devoted everything to memory, and the few things she couldn't memorize, she wrote down until finally Rarity had taught Twilight all she could. Now it was up to Twilight to seal the deal.

Rarity left, leaving Twilight alone in an empty library. To her credit, Twilight tried desperately to get back into her book, but Rose Blossom's love life, though more rich and exciting, seemed paltry next to Twilight's real-world romance troubles. Once all had been said and done, Twilight could do nothing more than stare at the clock and wait for the short hand to finish it's long arc to seven.

Finally, after hours of doing nothing but practicing her script, Twilight heard the clock ring seven times. On the seventh, the front door's bell rang out, and Twilight's heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of a familiar red coat. That was another thing about Macintosh, he was always punctual, even when he didn't know he had a meeting.

The ritual began, and Twilight's first chance quickly arrived. Big Macintosh placed the book on Twilight's desk and was just about to go to a random part of the library when Twilight spoke up.

"I...d-do...you...book?" Twilight stuttered, her face getting hotter. Macintosh smiled at her, patiently waiting for her to get a coherent sentence together. After a dozen false starts, Twilight sighed and admitted defeat. "Nice weather we're having."

"Eeyup," Macintosh said, smile never faltering.

The ritual continued, and Twilight hung her head. That was absolutely pathetic. She grit her teeth. Was she really going to let all that practice go to waste? No, of course not. She still had one more chance tonight, she wouldn't let it pass her by.

Afraid she might accidentally stare at Big Macintosh, Twilight forced her gaze down to her book. She stared and went over what she would say. Why was she having so much trouble with this? It wasn't as if she was asking him on a date. It was only a request to get to know him better. She could make such a request to anyone else and not have nearly so much trouble. Why was Macintosh any different?

Oh right, the crush.

Macintosh set a book on Twilight's desk, forcing her to look up. She stared at the new book on her desk, confused.

"Are you done already?" she asked. "You usually take an hour."

Her confused stare hopped onto Mac's own face. "It's been an hour."

Twilight shot a glance at her clock. He was right, she had been thinking for an entire hour without even realizing it. Macintosh gazed at her for a few seconds, and Twilight's knees threatened to buckle beneath the weight of his stare. Why was he looking so intently at her?

"Uh, Twilight?" His eyes darted to the book he had brought over, and Twilight fought the urge to slap her own forehead.

"Oh, right," Twilight said. She brought out her notebook of records and wrote down the book's title, catalogue number, the date, and the pony checking it out. Once finished, she gave him the book. "Here you go."

"Thank you kindly," Mac said. He moved toward the door, but Twilight quickly stopped him with a hoof on his shoulder. She wasn't going to let her last opportunity of the night slip past.

Macintosh looked at her hoof on his shoulder, and then at Twilight. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"Oh no, nothing's wrong," Twilight said, quickly withdrawing her hoof. "I just wanted to talk to you for a bit. If you wouldn’t mind, that is."

Macintosh nodded and turned back to face the desk. He stood silently, waiting for her to continue.

"So, uh," Twilight tapped her hoof nervously now that she had Mac's full attention. Calm down, Twilight told herself, you've practiced this in your head literally hundreds of times. You made a flowchart, for Celestia's sake. Twilight took a deep breath and started from the beginning.

"Macintosh, for a long time I've been interested..." Twilight had to stop, her cheeks were burning up. "I mean, I think I might have..." Her teeth clenched. "What I mean to say is that I...admire...you–your books..." That was completely true. Perhaps not exactly what she had wanted to say, but it expressed the nature of her interest more succinctly than any proclamation of romantic interest.

Macintosh looked down at her desk, at the books that lay there. "Oh," Macintosh chuckled. "Didn't think you knew about that."

"Well, I am a librarian, you know," Twilight said with a cautious but optimistic smile. "A-anyway, I was wondering if, uh..." Just say it, just say it! Twilight admonished herself. Just say you want to get to know him better. She knew what to do and what to say, but every time she looked at his eyes, at his freckles, all that knowledge seemed to slip away behind stuttered words and red cheeks, hers not his.

"I was wondering if," Twilight continued. Macintosh waited, his head tilted. "If..." She couldn't do it, she just couldn't do it. All that practicing, all that time Rarity had so graciously given her, all for naught. She hung her head in despair.

"It's okay, Twilight, I know what you're going to say, and I'm fine with it," Macintosh said with a smile. Twilight jerked her head up with an appreciative grin. She couldn't be more grateful to him if he had thrown her a literal lifeline in stormy waters. Her eyes were practically watering from the relief he had given her. She quickly turned to wipe her eyes. Get it together now, Twilight told herself. I don't need Macintosh thinking I'm weird or something. She took a deep breath and turned around to face Macintosh.

He was gone.

As was his book. Her book, meanwhile, had been flipped to the title page where a message waited, one that had not been there minutes before. The message, in slick black ink, read,

To my friend and fan, Twilight Sparkle. I hope you liked the book.

-Ebony Inkwell

(Big Macintosh Apple)

Twilight's frontal lobe called it quits for the night. This was beyond it's capabilities for the moment. It needed to rest, to reexamine, and request moral and spiritual support. With her mind completely blank, Twilight relied solely on habit to lock the front door, turn off the lights, and trudge into bed. She momentarily lacked the cognitive function to do her usual reading, and so her book remained at her front desk downstairs.

She slept dreamless.

Twilight sunk down in the spa's steaming water and closed her eyes to think. At least, she tried. Every time she thought about Big Macintosh and Ebony Inkwell her brain would seize up like some strange mental cramp. She just couldn't make sense of it. Relaxation, her assigned goal for the day, seemed to elude her as well. Rarity had invited her to the spa on their mutual day off in order to recover from the work week, but all it managed to do was make Twilight feel guilty that she couldn't fully enjoy Rarity’s generosity.

"So how did it go?" Rarity asked. She sat beside Twilight in the hot tub and leaned against the edge with her head hanging back to stare at the ceiling.

Honestly, Twilight was impressed that Rarity had waited this long to ask. "He...gave me his autograph."

Rarity snickered. "How narcissistic."

"He thought I wanted one," Twilight said. "I...I said I admired his books, which I meant as the variety of books he checked out, not actual books that he wrote. I didn't know he was Ebony Inkwell, and I certainly didn't mean for him to take all my stuttering to mean I was a star-struck fan. It just...I just..." Twilight groaned and submerged herself completely underwater. She spoke underwater, causing a rush of bubbles to ripple across the water.

"I'm sorry, dear, I didn't quite catch that," Rarity said without moving.

Twilight popped up her head. "I said I just don't know what to do. I don't think I can face him tomorrow, I might die from embarrassment."

"Twilight, don't be ridiculous," Rarity said. "I told you to get to know him, and you did. You found out he's a romance writer. Mission accomplished, I would say."

"I...I guess you have a point," Twilight conceded. She suddenly realized that Rarity hadn't reacted at all to the news that Big Macintosh Apple and Ebony Inkwell were one and the same. "Did you know he was a writer?"

"Knew? Oh Twilight, I–" The door leading into the room opened and interrupted Rarity. To Twilight's horror, Big Macintosh sauntered into the room, closing the door behind him. "Macintosh, right on time, as usual," Rarity said with a smile. "Well, don't just stand there, come in, come in, the water's absolutely divine."

Macintosh smiled and trotted to the tub. "Good to see ya, Rarity. You too, Twilight."

Twilight mumbled a greeting as Macintosh climbed in. The water level rose a few inches as he submerged himself into the hot water. Thankfully, the tub was more than large enough to accommodate the three of them without things becoming too intimate. Big Macintosh quickly dunked his head beneath the water to get his mane wet, and Twilight tried her best not to gawk at how the wet strands clung to his face.

Twilight found the perfect opportunity to look away by glaring at Rarity. She had invited both Twilight and Macintosh to the spa at roughly the same time. It was obvious what she was doing. Rarity noticed Twilight's glare and gave her a sly smirk. Twilight would surely get her back for this. The next time Rarity wanted to check out a book, Twilight would be sure to take three more seconds than usual. Oh, she was so angry, she might even make it five.

"Thanks for inviting me, Rarity," Macintosh said.

"Think nothing of it," Rarity said with a smile. "I knew there was a hot spring scene in your new book, and I thought you might like the chance to do a bit of research. Of course, a spa isn't an exact analogue, but it comes very close, don't you think?"

"Eeyup," Macintosh said. "I could definitely see how romantic tension could develop in a setting like this."

"Absolutely!" Rarity agreed. "Imagine two ponies, their desire for each other still unspoken. They soak together in the luxurious relaxation of a hot tub. They're embarrassed at first, afraid to let their eyes wander, afraid yet titillated that they may see something that perhaps they shouldn't have. But they just can't help..." Rarity trailed off with a quirk of her eyebrow. "Is it just me or did the water just get hotter."

Twilight face gave off so much heat that she ducked the bottom of her snout under the water to cool down. It did not work.

"You okay, Twilight?" Big Macintosh asked. "You look a little flushed."

"Me? No, I'm fine, perfectly fine," Twilight said, or, at least, she had meant to. Her mouth was still under the water. She quickly shot her head up. "I'm fine," she repeated.

Macintosh nodded, satisfied with her answer. "Actually, Twilight, I'm glad you're here. I have something I wanted to ask ya."

"R-really?" Twilight stuttered.

"Eeyup," Macintosh said. "I gotta be honest, I've had my eye on you for a while."

Twilight opened and closed her mouth several times before actual sound came out. "Y-you did?"

Macintosh continued. "Eeyup. You'd make a really good proofreader," Macintosh said, and Twilight felt her heart sink. "I figured as much since you were a librarian and an avid reader, but it was real obvious after I read your article in Gramarye Today."

Rarity quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Gramarye ain't got any editors. What they do is print their style guide in the back of every issue. They get tons of articles a day, and any that don't strictly follow the guide get thrown out right away." Macintosh turned back to Twilight. "You got a real good eye for detail, so I was hopin' I could hire ya as a freelancer to proofread my latest book. It'd be for a couple days a week, and I'd be payin' ya for your time, of course."

Twilight couldn't help but smile at the praise, especially since not a lot of ponies in her circle of friends knew about the effort it took to get that article in her favorite magazine. Moreover, helping Macintosh with editing would be the perfect opportunity to get to know him better without the risk of being an annoyance. The chance to pick the brain of her favorite romance author would be an added bonus.

"Sure, I would be glad to," Twilight said, "and you don't have to pay me with bits or anything. The chance to be the first to read the new Inkwell novel is payment enough."

Macintosh beamed. "Great, we could start right after we're done with the spa if you'd like."

"Sounds like a plan," Twilight said with a grin.

"Would you like to join us, Rarity?" Macintosh asked.

"I'll pass, I'm afraid I have nothing to work on. I'm still in the brainstorming stage of my next book."

Twilight's eyes widened. "You're a writer too, Rarity?"

"That I am, though my romances are a bit more...erotic in nature," Rarity said with a smirk. Twilight stared with her jaw agape, and Rarity chuckled. "Come now, dear, no need to look so impressed. Writing erotica isn't all that complicated. In fact, the most difficult part is thinking up euphemisms for genitals. 'Love stick' and 'pulsating desire' become very worn very quickly."

Twilight blushed, but shook her head before she could get too flustered. Her mind had already taken enough time off this week.

After a quick drying out and a relaxing massage, Twilight and Macintosh parted ways with Rarity and headed for Sweet Apple Acres. They left right at that strange time between day and evening, and it was an unseasonably warm winter day. Strange, to say the least, since the first snow of winter was scheduled to fall that night. The two of them walked in silence, but Twilight didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. Big Macintosh was mostly silent, after all, only speaking when he had something to say.

Of course, Twilight had experience with quiet ponies, Fluttershy even had Macintosh beat when it came to fewer words uttered in a lifetime. Unlike Fluttershy, however, Twilight didn't know whether Macintosh would prefer to walk in silence or to listen to Twilight talk. She didn't want to seem like a chatterbox and annoy him, but she also didn't want to stay quiet and risk Macintosh thinking she wasn't all that interested in talking to him.

"So Macintosh," Twilight said, "what's your latest book about?" Talking about his book seemed a safe bet. It let him know that she was interested in his work, but also didn't overwhelm him with too much talk.

"My usual stuff," Macintosh replied. "Two ponies meeting for the first time and developing a friendship that eventually evolves into a romance. Takes place in a fictional hot spring town that's a big tourist attraction."

"Sounds like a leisurely read."

"Eeyup."

The two fell back naturally to silence, and Twilight started to worry yet again. She tried to think of a new topic, but finally settled on more book talk. "How long is it?"

"About seventy thousand words," Macintosh said.

"How many pages is that?"

"Depends, probably around two hundred and eighty."

"Oh."

The Apple family's farmstead came into view, and Twilight resisted the urge to sigh in relief. Once they were inside, and once Twilight started working on his manuscript, she wouldn't feel so pressured to have a conversation. She could just focus on the work in peace and maybe enjoy reading a new book.

Wait, but was that ideal? Twilight had taken Macintosh's offer as a way to get to know him better. Could she really do that if she was busy reading? But Macintosh expected her to proofread his work, she couldn't just talk to him instead of marking up his book, it would make her look distracted and unreliable.

"We're pretty lucky," Macintosh said as they climbed onto the front porch. "Applejack's over at Pinkie Pie's planning a catering gig, and Applebloom's at Scootaloo's for a play date and a sleep over. We can work in the living room instead of my room." He opened the door for her, and Twilight walked into the cozy house that smelled of baked goods and apples.

"Does your family know about your writing?"

"Eeyup, but I don't like to work outside my room when they're around. They always wanna see my writing, and they don't really get what a 'first draft' means." Macintosh followed her inside and turned on a couple of lanterns in the living room. "You thirsty? Got some apple juice if you want any."

"I'm fine, thank you," Twilight said. "I'm eager to get started."

"Eeyup, let me go fetch my things." Macintosh disappeared upstairs, and when he came back it was with a thick stack of papers held together with three binder clips acting as an improvised spine. A typewriter and a ream of paper (also held together by clips) balanced on his back. He placed his manuscript on the coffee table along with a red pen. The typewriter he placed on a desk tucked into the far corner of the living room, right beside the fireplace.

"Once you're finished with a page, go ahead and float it over to me so I can retype it," he said as he took a seat at the desk.

Twilight nodded and took a seat in a nearby armchair. She wriggled to get comfy on the plush cushion and brought the manuscript and pen over to her with magic. She got to work.

The first page went by easily enough with very few mistakes. Even so, just one was enough to warrant a complete retype. As soon as Twilight magicked the page to Macintosh, he got to work on the typewriter, the gentle clacks of the keys filling up the otherwise silent air. The mistakes weren't all that bad: a few misused commas here, an unintended homonym there. Really there were mostly mistakes caused by absentmindedness, the kind made by not paying more attention to the story rather than the writing.

The story, as always, was impeccable. Twilight often found herself reading the same page twice, once to capture any lapses in correct grammar and punctuation, and again to read the actual story on the page. The characters were interesting and likeable, the situations were humorous and light-hearted, and the prose was crisp and easy to follow.

After a few hours, Twilight noticed that she corrected the pages far faster than Macintosh could type them, and thus a significant stack formed beside his typewriter. She decided to take a break to let him catch up. Her eyes glanced around the room until they fell on Macintosh. She desperately wanted to talk to him, but he seemed so busy.

"Sorry for taking so long," Macintosh said without pause in his typing, saving Twilight from minutes of debating.

"It's okay," Twilight assured him. "You can talk and type at the same time?"

"It's only retyping," Macintosh said. "Ain't like I gotta think about the words. Don't even gotta look at the keys." To prove his point, Macintosh looked over his shoulder at Twilight and gave her a smile that made her heart jump to her throat. He didn't seem to notice her fluster and faced the typewriter again. "How're you liking it so far?"

"It's great," Twilight gushed. "It's...um," What was the best way to put it? "It's definitely an Inkwell novel."

Macintosh chuckled. "Thanks."

"What are you going to do once it's all done?"

"Send it to my agent," Macintosh said. "She'll shop it around and hopefully get the best deal."

"You have an agent?" Twilight asked, honestly impressed.

"Eeyup."

Twilight stared at Macintosh's back as he typed. The first snow of winter started to fall, the room quickly became colder and colder. Twilight didn't notice though, she was too busy thinking. She had a question that she desperately wanted answered, but it was rather personal, and she didn't want to ruin the good foundation she had developed. Oh to heck with it. Everything had turned out fine so far, right?

"So Macintosh, if you don't mind me asking," Twilight began, "why do you write? I'm sorry if that's too personal, but I've always been curious about why writers, especially fiction writers, write. I've read a lot of author biographies, and I always find their answers really interesting. Do you write because you have stories bursting out of you that you need to tell, or do you write because you have something to say about the nature of ponies or society, or do you write because you're just compelled to by some unknown force?"

Macintosh stopped typing and leaned back in his chair. For several seconds he stared at the wall with a thoughtful expression until finally he turned his head to look at Twilight. "Recognition."

"Recognition?" Twilight repeated.

"Eeyup," Macintosh said. "If I couldn't write another word for as long as I lived, I think I'd still be able to have a happy life. What I really love about writing is the feeling I get when ponies tell me they really loved something that I made. You don't get that kind of appreciation with farming. No one looks at a field you plowed and compliments ya on how even and straight your furrows are. But writing, well heck, ponies'll chew each others' ears off talking about characters and why did they this or that."

Macintosh shrugged and stood up to stretch his forelegs out with a groan. "It's gettin' awfully cold," he said, more to himself than to Twilight. He took a couple pieces of firewood from the other side of the room and tossed them into the fireplace. Within minutes he had a fire crackling, filling the room with it's warmth. "Ah'm gonna brew some tea. You want any?"

"I'd love some," Twilight said with a smile. Macintosh nodded and went to the kitchen as Twilight watched him go. She floated what was left of the manuscript and the pen onto the coffee table and yawned. A roll of her shoulders melted the stiffness out of them, and leaned back in the chair to relax for a moment.

This time when Macintosh returned, he had a mug of tea for her. Twilight took it graciously and sipped the sweet brew. Macintosh grabbed his own mug and set it on the desk. He returned to his seat, and the soft clacks of the typewriter keys accompanied the gentle roar of the fireplace.

Twilight sighed into her mug. If she had to pick a single moment of her life to relive over and over again until the end of time, this moment would definitely be a top contender.

Macintosh peered out the window. "Gettin' pretty bad out there." Despite his observation, he chuckled to himself. "Kinda funny, two ponies snowed in by themselves for an unknown period of time."

Twilight tried to hide her smile and blush. That's right, this was a common situation in romance novels. All that was missing was the fireplace going out and the two ponies cuddling together for warmth. Ah, she had to stop thinking about it or else her whole face would turn red. She took a long sip from her mug.

“Then one goes crazy and cannabalizes the other."

Twilight coughed and spluttered as her tea went down the wrong pipe.

"You okay?" Macintosh quickly darted to her side and rubbed her back.

"I'm fine," Twilight gasped. "Just had the wrong genre."

After finishing his tea, Macintosh decided to call it a night. He offered Twilight the guest bedroom, and she reluctantly agreed. The last thing she wanted to do was inconvenience him and the Apple family, but she also didn’t want to brave a snowstorm so late at night. Macintosh took care of the typewriter, the papers, and the fireplace as Twilight made her way upstairs. This wasn't the first time she had spent the night at Sweet Apple Acres, and she knew the farmstead's layout by heart.

Twilight chuckled. If this was a romance novel, she would get confused and accidentally sleep in Macintosh's room. An awkward situation would follow and somehow, through some leap in logic, they would decide to share the bed. But this was not a romance novel, and if such a thing were to happen Twilight would beg for forgiveness and perhaps be too embarrassed about the whole thing to set foot on Sweet Apple Acres ever again. No, that wasn't right. She would probably be so embarrassed she wouldn't be able to set foot in Ponyville again.

Twilight opened the door to a room that was definitely the guest room and not Macintosh's room. She pulled back the covers and tucked herself into the bed that definitely was not Macintosh's bed, and stared out the window that was definitely not Macintosh's window.

With a yawn, Twilight rolled on her back. She couldn't help but smile. Today hadn't been bad at all, in fact, she would call it a triumphant success. She got to know Macintosh a little bit more, and she even got a preview of his latest book. A yawn escaped from Twilight, and she wondered if her crush on him had waned or grown in the past day. To find out, she closed her eyes and did the kissing test. She hardly got the chance to imagine his face before her face became too flushed to continued.

With a sigh, Twilight rolled over on her stomach. Her crush had definitely grown. Now all she needed to figure out was whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Author's Note

Special thanks to Comma-Kazie and Scott Walfall for supporting this chapter's creation via Patreon.