Have I Got a Story For You · 5:13pm Jun 3rd, 2019
As reluctant as I am to bury my generous offer, I’ve got two amazing bits of news to share:
First off, as Bookplayer announced yesterday, she, Epic Yarn, and myself are going to have a BronyCon panel focused on writing children and families. Bookplayer’s blog has more details, and the all important question: what would you, prospective Bronycon attendee, like to hear from us? Head on over to bookplayer’s blog and let us know!
Second, a new story is about to begin! I’ve been working on this one for just over a year, and I hope you enjoy what promises to be a long and dramatic ride. I’ll let Rarity take it from here:
Rarity doesn't bother looking up from her sewing machine. “What can I do for you, darling?”
The Carousel Boutique is much, much smaller in person. I'm sitting with my back to a three way mirror, hugging my legs since there's nowhere else to put them that wouldn't involve crushing a chaise lounge.
“Some more headroom would be nice.”
“I told you Applejack’s barn would be a better venue for your… appearances. It would certainly mask the, shall we say, ‘eau de human’ that invariably lingers.”
I shrug, which makes the floorboards creak. “I’ll stock up on alfalfa shampoo and oat scented soap.”
Rarity waves it off, still focused on the tan fabric moving in and out of her machine. “See that you do. So, what do I owe the pleasure of this intrusion?”
“Actually—” I pause, knowing how much she’ll love this “—I'm looking for a new jacket.”
The sewing machine stops, and the reams of fabric floating nearby drop the ground. I can hear her smile long before she turns around, and by the time she does she's adopted a dignified look complete with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Pardon?”
“I've heard you make clothing once in a while. Could you make me a jacket?”
A sketch pad and a quill fly into view as she taps her chin. “I suppose I could work around your kind’s perverse anatomy, should inspiration strike. What did you have in mind?”
With the utmost care, I lean back and fold my arms behind my head. “Let me tell you about my favorite jacket.”
“This isn’t going to be an epic poem, is it?”
“You know I work in prose.”
She dons her glasses, attempting to conceal a roll of her eyes. “To use the term loosely, perhaps. But please go on.”
“I’ve had my favorite jacket for decades. It’s a light brown, zipper-and-snaps affair that’s warm enough for winter, but not too hot in the spring. It’s not quite dressy enough for business casual, but doesn’t leave me feeling out of place at the grocery store or in the park on a windy day. Somehow it’s roomy without feeling oversized, so much so that I can fit a smaller jacket or a vest underneath if it's especially cold out. Best of all, there are nine pockets in total, three interior and six exterior, that don’t look bulky even if they’re nearly full.”
By this point her eyebrows are knit in concentration, and the rest of her face his hidden behind the sketch pad and rapidly moving quill. “Mmm hmm. Go on.”
“It’s been my go-to jacket for any weather that doesn’t include torrential rain, meteors, or lava. The problem is the fabric is wearing out. The stitches, zipper, and snaps are all fine, but holes are forming in the elbows and around the waist. It’s going to fall apart if I don’t replace it soon, even though I want to keep using it forever.”
The quill stops, and the sketch pad drifts down to reveal Rarity’s wide smile. “I think we could come to an arrangement, dear, I really do. However in this particular case I’m afraid we should discuss payment in advance, considering the unusually large fabric requirements and nuances of design.”
“I’ll pay any price that won’t put my family out on the street.”
Her smile broadens in a way that I’ve only seen Pinkie manage. “I suspected as much. I also suspect that you aren’t flush with bits, gems, or any other form of Equestrian currency.”
“That's ri—”
“One leading role, replete with drama, action, and fashion.” Her gaze is beyond piercing, and her smile is as strong and hard as a stone wall. “That’s my non-negotiable price.”
I smirk. “So you expect me to snap my fingers and write ‘And thus world was safe again, all thanks to Rarity who lived happily ever after’ ?”
She nods. “Yes, darling, after snapping your fingers a few thousand times prior and writing appropriate words to support and justify that lovely sentiment. You’ve given other ponies that treatment, and I expect the same.”
“You know what those other ponies went through for that, don't you?”
She nods again and returns to her sketch pad.“Yes yes, some measure of unpleasantness and so forth. Do we have an agreement?”
After a few seconds of silence, broken only by her furious quill scratching, I sigh a defeated sigh. “I'll see what I can do. You might want to make a warm jacket for yourself, too.”
“Hmm?” She doesn't spare me a glance. “Whatever for?”
“Oh, no reason.”
What an interesting way to introduce a story.
This is going to be fun.