Three Conversations at BronyCon, pt.1: Part Bird, Part Stone, All Alicorn · 11:37am Sep 17th, 2019
Before I dig in here, I want to apologize for being late with my BronyCon recap. BronyCon was a juggernaut that slammed into some Real Life™ stuff that responded poorly to disruption. I do not regret going, but it caused some fires that needed fighting. Fortunately those are a bit better contained now, allowing me to reflect on it with a clearer mind.
One other warning: there be pics here. Not a ton, but don't taser me if your data plan notices.
“Never meet your heroes” — or so goes the advice.
If BronyCon 2019 was anything for me, it was an exercise in going against that advice with a vengeance.
Over the course of two and a half days in Baltimore this August, I put tons of faces to names, shook innumerable hands, and sought a lot of autographs—mostly from the FiM fanfiction community. And in the course of doing so, I had a lot of little conversations. “Little,” for you see, BC19 also felt like an exercise in the entire MLP community cramming as much activity as possible into the weekend, sometimes to the detriment of going deep with any particular thing.
But amid the chaos were three conversations that continue to stand out to me. And yes, if you hadn’t guessed, in large part they included meeting some of my fanfic community heroes. People who ultimately put their pants on one leg at a time just like we all do, but who—once their pants are on—write inspiring and amazing stories.
I hope to put my pants on like that someday.
I’ll begin this series by recapping the conversation I had with Pascoite and Miller Minus on Friday evening. For one thing, you get a twofer. For another, it reflects how unexpected but amazing the BronyCon experience could be.
But before we get there, I need to spend a while giving you the setup. Six hours of it, in fact. For you see, the most important bit of background is that Moosetasm and I spent six hours in a single line during the course of Friday.
Pictured, left to right: Moose, a hilarious Starlight shirt, and my bad self
Oh yes. Many of you have heard about the LineCon experience at BC19; some of you experienced it; but Moose and I took it right in the face. This was because we both wanted to get Lauren Faust’s autograph, and we thought we’d be clever by lining up for her signing a bit before 11am, roughly two hours before her autograph session was supposed to begin.
Some three hours later, we discovered that we weren’t far enough forward in line to make it to her during that autograph session. 2pm came, the Fausticorn bowed out for a panel, and the con staff told the line that we had to disperse. But of course, nobody who’d waited that long was having any of being told to shove off. We had come to see Lauren, and Lauren we would see, even if we had to wait through her panel for her 4pm signing session. Whether out of pity or respect for our determination, the con staff agreed to let us wait.
Waiting is, indeed, the hardest part, but we were determined not to let the experience break us. Obviously no one wanted to spend most of a day at the last BronyCon waiting in a dang line on a concrete floor. However, there was a camaraderie among those of us who suffered together. We marveled at various things that people had brought for Lauren to sign. I shook my head at a couple who seemed like they’d just met but who clearly needed to just kiss already! Pain medications were exchanged, as concrete laid slow siege to muscle and bone. Meanwhile, Moose and I debated the sunk cost fallacy of how long we’d been in line, interspersed with planning the next arc of his massive, ongoing Darkest Dungeon crossover fic.
Pictured: an amazing framed shadowbox that cannot be done justice in 2D, reflecting lights above
At last, the Fausticorn returned. The line crawled forward… stuttered… stopped. It crawled a little more. Then it stopped again. And for the longest time, it just stood there.
“We aren’t going to make it,” I said, grimacing at my cell phone. It was getting perilously close to 5:30, and I felt that something inside might break if we ended up flushing our whole day down the drain for naught.
“Yeah we will.” Moose pointed at a spot six feet ahead of us. “If we can get past that bend before they put out the ‘end of line’ sign, they’ll take us.”
The line started up a bit… kept stuttering… but inched a little forward…
We made it!
Moose and I barked half-crazed laughter ala Lesson Zero Twilight as we reveled in the flimsy glory of reaching the bend. I don’t think either of us had been so happy to reach a strip of tape on a concrete floor in our lives.
“Oh crap,” I said after a moment. “I still don’t know what I’m going to say to her!”
And I wish I could tell you what I did say in the end, because by the time I got up to her table, my wits had fled me. I think I blathered something that reflected how tired I was, and she answered with something that suggested she was far more tired still. I got her autograph, we took a picture, she agreed to take another one with me and Moose all together… and then it was over. Six hours of nervous, jangling energy suddenly spilled out into a void of inactivity.
Pictured: VICTOLY!!!
On the one hand, we’d done it. We’d won! But if it was a victory, it felt Pyrrhic at best. We really had just sunk a big-arse chunk of our BronyCon into a line. It was exhausting and demoralizing, to say the least. We flipped through our con books, wracking our brains, trying to figure out what we should do since it was late in the day and we’d missed almost everything we’d thought looked interesting.
“Wait a minute,” I said. “We still haven’t checked out Quills and Sofas.”
Moose raised an eyebrow at me. “What’s that?”
“That’s the writers’ hangout. I bet there’ll be some cool people there…”
There were indeed. However, to do justice to this part of the story, chronology must take a back seat to storytelling, and events must be cut for the sake of maintaining the tone. Suffice it to say that some further adventures transpired between Moose and I setting off for Quills & Sofas and both of us stumbling bleary-eyed back into the convention center circa 10pm.
“We’re running so late,” I lamented. “Why on earth was that restaurant running so slow? We’ve almost missed the whole panel!”
Moose turned tired eyes on me. “Which panel was it again?”
“Jaxie’s character perspective panel. You know, the one that Pascoite is on?
“Oh yeah. That one sounded good.” Moose grunted. “Well, at least we can catch the tail end of it.”
I gritted my teeth and hefted my autograph book. “You bet we can. I am not leaving BronyCon without meeting Pascoite!”
Some of you might’ve heard my story about how Pascoite got me into fanfic, so I’ll keep the recap short. I only discovered the FiM community circa January 2015, and in the beginning I was extremely skeptical about the concept of My Little Pony fanfiction. But it was Pascoite’s stories (originally linked through Equestria Daily) that introduced me to the potential that MLP fic could offer. Two early head-turners were The Voice of Reason and He Kindly Stopped For Me. And as I began to consider creating a FimFiction account, I used his The Great and Showerful Trixie as a litmus test of whether I could handle the presence of sex fics on the site. Laugh if you want, and point at the fact that I wrote The One Where Discord Gets All The Mares later in 2015, but at the time this was a big point of uncertainty for me, and I trusted Pascoite to do right by it. (Which he did; if you’ve never read The Great And Showerful Trixie, I give it my highest recommendation.)
All that’s to say I was equal parts tired, nervous, and elated when we prowled into the back of the panel room like a pair of Thieves Guild apprentices who were about to be stopped and told to pay our fine and forfeit any stolen goods or we’d be thrown into the Jarl’s dungeon with naught but a single loincloth and lockpick to share between us. Our naturally elegant, catlike grace was exhausted by that point, and we made a ruckus just sitting down on some boxes behind the back row of chairs. The panel folks, including Pascoite—whom I recognized by voice—took all this in stride, though.
“Let’s move up,” I whispered, pointing at some open chairs a few rows from the back.
And we did, making only a little bit more noise on those lousy boxes as we vacated them. Chairs felt so good after the weird day we’d had. I also figured that the improved vantage point would help me retain more of the panel, but to be honest, it didn’t. I think we were just too brain-fried by that point, and it didn’t help that we were coming in super-late.
“Hey,” I then whispered a bit too loudly. “That’s Alara Rogers!”
Moose raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
I pointed at a nametag on a curly-haired woman sitting a few seats over. Alara’s bio has at times insinuated that “she’s old enough to be your mom,” and that “she may in fact be your mom.” In keeping with that, she projected a warmth and strength that nevertheless felt approachable. “She’s written tons of stuff,” I answered. “Multiple fandoms. Star Trek, X-Men… and Discord for MLP.”
“Oh, cool. Do you want to catch her after?”
I flicked my eyes back at the panelists, then nodded. “Yeah. You watch and make sure they don’t get away, but it’d be awesome to meet her.”
The panel ended, and I spoke to Alara. She seemed surprised that someone would recognize her and ask for her autograph, but she was very gracious. We spoke about being tired, and how overwhelming the con had been, and how we hoped to see various things… and in hindsight, it was a moment when I felt truly connected. I’d known that I wasn’t the only person who’d come to the MLP mothership hoping for a few amazing moments, but as I stood there talking to someone I’d respected from afar (while continuing to work up the courage to talk to someone who I’d had a lot of back-and-forth with), I realized we were all on more-or-less equal footing. The names we see over and over on the screen, the authors who conjure emotional and breathtaking tales, and even the folks with follower-counts that boggle the mind? All of them are people. They all put on pants, just like I do.
I mean… unless they don’t. Whatever.
“They’re moving,” Moose said, piercing my reverie.
Alara and I said our goodbyes, and I turned to see a crowd that had thinned-out considerably from just a few moments before. Sure enough, the panelists had stood and were gathering their things while fending-off a few lingering questioners.
It was now or never. Moose and I rushed forward, eyes fixed on the man who must be Pascoite. I’d heard from somewhere that he was slim, fit, had a mustache, and that his hairline was receding like my own. Well, whoever told me that did a crap job of descriptions, for Pascoite’s hairline was enviable. I’d trade for it, at least.
“Excuse me, Pascoite?” I couldn’t keep the wobble out of my voice as I addressed my OG FimFiction hero from behind.
He turned, eyed my badge… and his whole countenance brightened. Because even though my badge had flipped to the side without my name, I’d heard a tip from Georg (who I’ll write more about later) to handwrite my name on the opposite side. And as Pascoite’s strong hand shot forward to shake mine, he said the word that began our conversation:
“Coffee!”
Here’s the thing about storytelling. I learned it from Trick Question (who I also finally got to meet on Friday!). It’s that your job as a storyteller isn’t to fill-in every single detail of the mental image that you want to convey to the reader; instead, it’s your job to engage the reader in enough of a back-and-forth of details and suggestions to make them paint their own mental image.
Take, for example, our story thus far. I’ve painted you a portrait of tiredness, frustration, lines, delays, feeling like a fool in front of Lauren freaking Faust herself… and maybe finding just a little bit of groundedness at the tail end of that emotional whirlpool. Then a few moments later, I finally met him.
“You were one of the people I had to meet while I was here,” Pascoite said, echoing my own sentiments.
Even if I wanted to, I could not have played it cool about how that made me feel. So instead I thanked him. Pretty much everything I said above about how Pascoite got me into MLP fic came tumbling out of my mouth, even though I think I’ve said most of that to him online in the past. But I also took the chance to thank him for his feedback and assistance on other stories—especially To Serve In Hell. Now I’m not going to linger on Hell and its three-year journey to completion, because Lord knows I’ve beaten that dead horse into glue. But all of its emotion came roaring back to life as I tried to express my gratitude.
“No, you don’t understand,” he said after patiently waiting for a pause in my word salad. “It’s no problem; I genuinely like your work.”
Just as I’ve struggled to recall exactly what I said to Lauren Faust, so too does my memory break down as I try to replay the rest of my conversation with Pascoite. I hadn’t come fishing for affirmation; I just wanted to shake his hand and thank him. But words cannot express the severity of the mental segfault I experienced upon hearing him praise my work in person.
We relocated to Quills & Sofas and continued to discuss writing, Writeoffs, MLP, and various projects. And it was around that time that Pascoite and I ran into Miller Minus, who became the third leg of our proverbial writing stool. It was strange meeting Miller, but only in the sense that it’s rare for me to encounter someone who I click with to the extent that Miller and I (and Pascoite) seemed to. But if my conversation with Pascoite had been fluid and enjoyable before adding Miller, his presence just kicked it into overdrive.
Among Miller’s stories are two standouts that I took the chance to applaud him for in person: Spin The Wheel, Win A Prize—a dark and ridiculous comedy par excellence—and What She Needs To Hear—a painfully heartfelt moment of fatherhood at its testing point. I heartily recommend reading both. And for his part, Miller mentioned a few tales of mine that he’d enjoyed: Bra Quest! and Petunia and the Coelacanth.
It was utterly weird hearing someone mention those by name and in-person. But it was also electrifying to see that the work I’d put into those stories had made a real connection with someone with whom I hadn’t interacted much before the con. Certainly I’ve seen Miller around in past Writeoffs, and I follow him for a reason, but that was the first moment we really talked.
I wish it could’ve lasted longer than it did. Though unlike so many other conversations that happened at BronyCon, this one didn’t feel rushed, or interrupted, or hard to fit in around other things.
It was unexpected, and amazing—much like MLP:FiM itself.
Pictured: Neeeeeeeeeerrrrrrds
And that’s it, folks: conversation #1 from BronyCon. I hope that the format and presentation meet with your approval! Of course I oughtn’t guarantee how or when numeros Dos and Tres will make it to you, but I’m looking forward to writing them!
Special thanks for all of this must go to Moosetasm, who remains—as always—the wind beneath my horse-wings. When I brainstormed this approach to recapping BronyCon, I realized that it might have the structural weakness of shortchanging my time with Moose, even though we were together almost constantly, both day and night. 
Hopefully I can avoid that problem in the next installment!
Yes but we are proud nerds!
Pssh, who wears pants while they're writing? :V
...I-I mean, I do, it's just funnier if I imply that I don't, I'm not a weirdo c.c;;
I generally put on both legs of my pants at once, actually.
In any case, congrats on the Faustograph. I tried a few times, but my dedication was nothing compared to yours. And it's always wonderful to hear about happy meet-ups. (Heck, I don't think I ever saw Alara...)
I find it funny how, at least in the first part of this story, I play a key role role in the hypophoric exposition.
“That’s so and so!”
“Whozat?”
“You know, the person who does the stuff!”
“Let’s get to the panel!”
“What panel is this?”
“This panel, remember?”
I blame being so tired that I had literally gone to autopilot.
Also, I have no problem saying that I have no pants on as I write this.
Ha, it was great to get to meet you! And my hairline is receding. It's not in full retreat yet, but it's been moseying in the wrong direction for years now. Definitely one of the best things about BronyCon is how approachable everyone is. Everybody there has someone they'd love to meet, and they'll often get the chance. It's a shame when someone's too timid, but it happens. But you, my friend, were bold, and you have a mineral to show for your efforts.
5122381
Proud indeed! These days I'm a bit more selective, yet sometimes much more brazen, about letting my MLP freak flag fly. One day recently I wore my Rarity Anarchy shirt (pictured somewhat above) out to a large public event, and the reactions were priceless.
5122387
It's ok bby, we know the hoop-skirt is what gets ya writing, and we loves ya anyway.
5122393
See I just KNEW there was gonna be some galaxy-brain who had to buck convention and leapfrog over this whole pants problem!
In all seriousness though, the Trials of the Faustograph were something Moose and I agreed we'd never want to do again under any circumstances whatsoever. Yet there was something about it being her at the last BronyCon that overrode our better judgement.
5122523
One bad thing about telling the story this way is that it casts you in this weird role that doesn't accurately reflect the con overall. The truth is more that we were both pretty tired throughout, and that at any given moment it was a tossup which of us was functioning anywhere near 100%. I guess the one thing I can say for myself is that this seemed like a functional way to spin the whole big overwhelming experience as a story, which I felt was better than a detailed blow-by-blow.
I hear you, man.
5122700
media1.tenor.com/images/7f6046c2151e085d1039276dc8fc0850/tenor.gif?itemid=8313954
Hey coffee it was great to meet you and steal all the fingers from your left hand thanks for being such a good sport about it. xoxo
5133942
It’s all right, I wasn’t using those fingers anyway!