From The Heart and ponidox competition post-mortem · 9:42pm Nov 9th, 2020
I understand this is all the rage when you release words.
Right up front: I don't think this is my best work. That's not fishing for insincere compliments (though I never say no), but an acceptance that it's just not my best writing. It's rushed, the pacing is a little off, there are probably more spelling mistakes than there are liars in parliament... well, that's a bit of hyperbole. Gotta have the hyperbole. Point is, it's not perfect.
And unsurprisingly, I didn't place, or even get an honourable mention. I was the short fiction equivalent of Eric Moussambani Malonga, up against actually competent competitors. Or any competitors. I knew, going in, that winning was a longshot, even though I was putting my best effort into it, because I was up against masters of the craft. And that's fine.
I enjoyed writing it; ponidoxes are a lot of fun, and it was good to get my teeth into something short, simple, and with a close deadline.
As might be obvious, this is a part of a series of short stories I've written over the last... indeterminate amount of time, set in a speculative near-future that diverges from show canon around season 7ish, or possibly even earlier. No retiring Celestia and Luna, no school of friendship, because I just don't quite see the point of it. No movie. Most of my fics exist in a mushy continuity that excludes the last few seasons, because I can do that, so that's no different.
I didn't set out to write a series. The original one-shot with Celestia was a spur of the moment thing, an opportunity to explore the same character's view of life from two fundamentally opposed perspectives: Celestia the mortal, and Celestia the goddess.
To be honest, I think I fucked it up. I didn't quite catch Celestia's voice, the ending just sort of clunks into place, and the implication I'd intended there was either as subtle as a brick to the face, or so "clever" that it wasn't even visible. It was only FanOfMostEverything's urging that convinced me to complete the sequel, which again didn't quite hit the mark of what I'd intended, but again was cathartic to write.
And there's that word again. Catharsis. What am I catharting? Or is it expurgating?
I won't speculate. I do have an idea, and i think it should be fairly obvious what that idea is, if you consider the overall thrust of my output here and elsewhere, but I don't want to get all pretentious about it. Two fancy words is my limit.
So, yes. A third instalment of a series that was never intended to be anything other than a soul-cleansing one-shot. It was fun. I'd do it again if I had the chance.
Happy to help encourage your soul-cleansing regimen. I do look forward to more from you on the topic if you keep pursuing it.
Thanks to you, I just spent the last half hour or so delving a rabbit hole of terrible Olympic athletes. :|
Which admittedly is completely heartwarming except for Elizabeth Swaney.