Something new. And I'm an idiot, which isn't new.

So, to start off, I’m going to tell you guys I entered a contest.

“But, NightWolf289, have you ever done a contest before?” asks Generic User 38.

I’m so glad you asked, Generic User 38, and the answer is no. I have never tried writing for a contest before. But there’s always a first, right? I figured I’d try my hand at this whole “competition writing” thing. Get my “paws” wet, so to speak.

“True. Which contest is it?”

As you may or may not know, Obselescence is running a contest: The Most Dangerous Game. In the contest, he challenged writers to take concepts that are known across the land as vile storytelling flaws—an OC alicorn, a human in Equestria, a seventh Element of Harmony, a second person perspective, and/or an OC and a major canon character (such as one of the Mane Six) fall in love with each other—and make a good story.

“Seems interesting.”

That it does, 38, that it does, which is why I couldn’t resist creating a story for the contest.

“What’s your story about?”

Well, I don’t want to spoil it too much, but since I’ll be posting it later today, I guess I can tell you a bit about it. I used the prompts alicorn OC, human in Equestria, and (debatably) human falling into a relationship with one of the Mane Six.

“But did—”

And on top of trying something new contest-wise, I decided to experiment a bit with the story. . . . Yes, I probably shouldn’t have experimented with a contest entry, but oh well—that’s how it ended up.

So basically, using a plethora of terrible ideas, I wrote a story for a deadline and finished off by experimenting further.

Oh, yes. Wonderful.

“Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Now that I have performed my obligatory duty of self-promoting—or perhaps, attempting to excuse—my competition piece, you’re probably wondering why I said that I’m an idiot.

I was going to write a special blog to celebrate one year of me being on the site. But I have a problem.

I frikken’ missed it. There I was, going to commemorate the day, but then I failed. For some reason, I had it stuck in my head that 54 weeks was a year.

I’ll give you a hint: it’s not.

Wooooo . . . happy late anniversary and not being dead for another year, me.

Thanks for putting up with me, guys.