The Thoughts of a Writer

Finally....my decision had finally come through to myself. Why was I so stupid as to stay with them, much less the bustling life of Manehatten. I did always prefer the quiet serene ambiance of the rural towns like Ponyville so that is why I am moving there. That and I never liked my parents.

They had always nagged me that I won't do much in life and that I will be a failure at what I do or what I was interested in at the time. They don't need to tell me that I'm useless because I already beat myself up for it on a daily or hourly basis. Besides, how could they say that I wouldn't do anything in my life when I've already written a play before I graduated high school and it was recognized by those in Canterlot Broadway as a reasonable play (though they did say that they would perform it someday).

As I packed my boxes into the truck for them to bring to Ponyville, I was visited by a friend of mine who lived right next door; a young mare by the name of Thimble. This mare, she was my friend and my only friend for that matter that actually had stayed with me through thick and thin and through my various states of self-doubt.

"So..." she started as she looked down at the ground. "I suppose this is good-bye?" She looked up at me with those brilliant purple eyes and that tone that could hold a conversation for a good five hours. Those same eyes and that brilliant mind behind that horn of hers is what drew me to her creativity in design and plush-making ideas.

"It is never a good-bye, Thimble," I replied as I hugged her with my gentle might, "it is simply, 'I'll see you soon.'" I placed my saddlebags gently on my back and turned towards the truck that held my materials that once inhabited the room that I hardly do go up in besides sleep in (unless I'm punished by my father to sleep downstairs on the couch or the floor). I looked at the mare that stood by me and became such quick friends after hearing on how I wrote and how dumb I sounded in real life and smiled. I used my magic to take out one scroll from my bags and handed it to her. "For you when I have finally departed this town," I also handed her another scroll which bore my new address in Ponyville.

"I'll see you soon and I'll write to you sooner," Thimble told me as I shut the door behind me and opened up the window to hear her voice one last time.

"I'm sure to write to you first, Thimble," I replied with a kind smile as I sat down fully in the truck and motioned them to bring me to my final destination and my hopeful solace from my thoughts; Ponyville.

But my own thoughts wouldn't leave me alone during the trip to my solace, the voices that brought about my 'misunderstood' writings (as my mother and father would say to me, at least my brothers and my one true friend could understand what I had written). My voice of reason, I named her Lucy, yes I am aware that there is a female voice inside my head but that is besides the point, kept nagging me about "if this is the right choice," as she would say it.

"I have made my decision, Lucy, I will not turn back now," I argued with her as I brought out a notebook that contained the a draft of a story that I was writing.

"But why abandoned your parentage when they raised you from the ground up," Lucy argued back in my head as I looked through the old notebook. "They gave you everything, they gave you their love."

"Love? It was only mutual love out of their parents to their offspring, nothing more. I was accidental and unwanted by them in the first place. They even stated in clear truth that I was a honeymoon baby and they constantly joked that I was adopted when I got older. My parents didn't love me for who I was truly, a pony who wants nothing more then provide entertainment for the masses," I replied in thoughts as I looked over my third chapter, which in my thoughts is the introduction of the conflict to such a romantic comedy. "They didn't understand that I am, too a pony. They don't understand that I don't know what they went through in Kabayo. They think experience is passed down from generation to generation. It is not, as you can clearly see."

Lucy was silent, which I had hoped that it would finally quiet my mind of such a thought and I turned my mental attention to my voice of creativity, Brush as I would call him. He had always brought me such great characters to bring out in my written words. But oddly enough, he was quiet today.

Perhaps it was because of my final statement that I had said to my parents before I had left. That one final resounding statement that would probably make one of the princesses swoon at such words crafted by my lips and my avid mind that improvised such a deliberate speech in front of my parents and even my siblings whom I had a love-hate relationship. Though I can not dwell on such thoughts of the past and just allow me to live my life in the solace that I had finally and hopefully found.

It was about an hour out of Manehatten and it would take another thirty minutes to get to Ponyville so I thought I would brush up on my own reading. I took out from my saddlebags a notebook that bore the first draft of my first play after replacing it with the first notebook that I had taken out. Those who had read it, it is known to them as The Witch's Night but only to me and a few others, it is called Walpurgisnacht. I dunno why I call it that but I like the title and the sound of such a word's translation. I could've called it "Spring Festival" but what happened in that play, oh it was not much of a festival to begin with.

I looked over the first act of my play, where it introduced my band of characters, both old and young and the main conflict would divulge.

Walpurgisnacht, to me, is my greatest achievement thus far. A lengthy three act play with drama, comedy and death mixed into its bowl along with a cast of loveable and hate-able characters, each with their own power to give to the story. There are also many characters and references in the background that the play-goers will recognize if they brushed up on their contemporary popular novels.

As I looked through the pages of my drafted play, I remember the countless nights that I was up with Thimble and a glass of cider, discussing such ideas that would captivate an audience, or much rather in the case at the time, the panel of judges. I remember receiving a letter from one of the judges, a veteran author by the name of Twilight Velvet and it basically praised me on how well the characters and the story was written and how the idea was implemented. She also did give me some pointers on the stage direction (which I admit was my weak point in the writing of it, though I understood it due to the high school drama classes I took) but most of the letter was spent praising my blossoming ability.

Wanting to know a bit more on my praiser, I went about to the local library in the downtown of the bustling Manehatten to go about my small research project. Apparently, not only is she a best-selling author (though never could get in the top five of the Manehatten Times but always secured a spot in the top ten), but she is the mother to Twilight Sparkle, bearer of the Element of Magic, and Captain Shining Armor, Captain of the Royal Guard and current presiding ruler of the Crystal Empire next to his wife, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.

Though I had already set forth onto moving into the peaceful Ponyville, knowing this information now makes the move an interesting move set for me. I had known the Elements resided in Ponyville but before that letter, I knew I stood no chance in ever meeting such celebrities. But now, maybe I could delight myself on the thoughts of Twilight Sparkle.

But to talk to one Element means that I must talk to all. I think Rarity would be an interesting mare to talk to while Applejack would be a good mare to share a drink or two alongside with Rainbow Dash. Fluttershy might be hard to approach due to her shy nature and I, myself, couldn’t approach Pinkie Pie due to her energetic nature.

Yes, I think I will like living in Ponyville; so much inspiration in such a small town. I wonder if they have a thater so I could watch a play or two or maybe see some improvised comedy once in a while.

But now that I think about it, I had forgotten that I had a pen pal in Ponyville, a young mare by the name of Heart Note. Perhaps I should take the time to visit her when I get the chance to settle in. I also hear that there is a lyraist by the name of Lyra so maybe I could play a bit of piano with her.

“Sir, we are five minutes out. Please get ready to depart,” the main stallion stated, interrupting my thoughts.

“Very well, thank you for the warning,” I replied as I took out a bag of bits and placed it in the corner. “Your tip is in the corner.”

“Very well sir,” he replied as I placed my notebook back into my saddlebags. I gazed out of my window to see the two story homes, a library made from a tree, the town hall and several small cafes.

I smiled to myself as I could not keep my giddiness as I looked out at the town. I had found my solace, my sole paradise.