A Brief Mid-April Update: Beyond The Weight of the Sun

Cheesus Price, the time is getting away from me. When I first started this story back in September, I expected to be done by now, and started on the sequel.

Wanna know a secret? I plan to make a trilogy. That is all.

It looks like my busy life might be taking a break in the next week or so as things wind down and I have lulls in my non-pony projects. More details on that stuff in the future. School's almost out, and as a senior, I'll be getting quite a few half-days in the next month or so as I get to skip standards testing that no longer applies to me. Definitely looking forward to that.

Can't promise anything—just wanted to let you guys know that I haven't forgotten about you, or The Weight of the Sun. Just getting myself too deep into too many things, and maybe finally getting some time to get caught up.

I have a couple more story concepts on the table outside the Weight of the Sun universe. Another somewhat unique HiE epic, and a sad sci-fi crossover short story that's been at the forefront of my brain the past few days. Might do some preliminary work on that sometime soon. The concept is pretty much fleshed out. I won't give away the original yet, but it's a really good, somewhat realistic, near-future sci-fi story that I think anypony could enjoy. It's short, bittersweet, and to the point. Maybe it'll give me some momentum to help me on my bigger undertakings.

I just had a thought: I've had some rather... unique experiences in the past few months, owed entirely to the brony community. I've definitely made an ass of myself plenty of times, and I learned a lot of things about how to get along with my fellow humans; things which my sheltered childhood utterly failed to teach me. It's definitely been an opportunity for growth, and has been an experience that I will have with me for the rest of my life, even after FiM.

We all know—even if some of us are afraid to admit it—that our beloved Mane Six won't be with us forever. Chances are that Hasbro will milk this generation for all it can get (if not more) and then go back to their old ways of making twenty-two-minute supercommercials. I'm saving all the episodes so that one day I can share them with my kids. When their Saturday-morning cartoons are nothing but attempts to make them beg me to take them to the toy store, I'll have something that I can show them, so that they can know what true children's entertainment was all about—and the wonderfully unique and diverse community it nurtured.

I'll leave you all with an excerpt from the new prologue.

My story only truly begins with my last day on Earth, in Al mahmudiyah, a small town in Iraq just south of Baghdad.

Back in the second invasion of Iraq in 2003, Al Mahmudiyah was almost completely destroyed because it was so close to the epicenter of the conflict. I still remember seeing pictures of it on the news: it was a wasteland. Homes were bombed out and spattered with bullet holes; over half the city was nothing but sand, blood, and ashes. Thick smoke poured into the sky and gunfire pierced the air. If Baghdad was Hell, Al Mahmudiyah was the gate.

But that was eight years prior. Saddam was out; democracy was in, and the difference was clear. Men and women conversed freely on the sidewalks while children played in the street. The many open-air markets and stores throughout the town were bustling day-in and day-out with customers and suppliers, haggling, purchasing, selling, and resupplying. New construction projects sprung up almost daily throughout the town as the damage from the war was patched over. New homes and shops were being built in entire blocks at a time. Al Mahmudiyah was a healing wound; it may have been covered by a huge, unsightly scab, but underneath that, society and economy grew back like new skin.

Comments?

Comments

[Fernin]

"If Baghdad was Hell, Al Mahmudiyah was the gate." Nice turn of phrase.

Make sure to capitalize the first M in "Al Mahmudiyah;" you missed it in the first mention.

The last sentence calls up images of life and a body repairing itself; I'd recommend extending that theme back through at least the sentence preceding it if not the entire paragraph-- scabbing over instead of patching over, refer to the markets and streets as the heart and veins / arteries, commercial activity as breathing or heartbeat, etc etc. That way it's one big unified metaphor of City As Body rather than "hey this is happening... also, body!"