"A famous author once wrote that life itself is art, and you should seek to incorporate reality into your art as much as possible," the unicorn spoke clearly.
Frost Sparks was a teal blue unicorn with relatively short stature but always high aspirations. Across from him sat his friend Seph Tantalum, a reformed changeling who'd known him all his life, and acted as his advisor throughout.
"Profound words," the changeling admitted. "But why don't I ever see such ideas show in your work?" He pressed, firmly holding eye contact.
Frost recoiled slightly in his seat, feeling a surge of guilt creep into his mind. "Well, from what work I've shown you, it's absolutely there! For instance, whenever I walk my dog, I compare some of the more peculiar thoughts I have to things that my characters might do. I assign them to different characters to better solidify their personality!"
He sat up straight, speaking with as much pride as he could in order to subdue his lurking fears.
Seph huffed. "That's a nice way to keep your work on your mind, but, I'm not sure how much that'll really impact the content of the story," he explained calmly.
"Well, the quote also refers to taking events and personal experiences from life and converting them into art for others to enjoy," Frost spouted, unable to keep eye contact for more than a second. "For example, there's an important scene where- no, wait, that's not until the first arc is complete… I mean, all my characters reflect real experiences in some way or another for authenticity, but none of them are necessarily one-to-one with real life."
Seph fought the urge to roll his eyes. "That's a nice detail, but again, no one can appreciate them until the work is actually published. You said there's already a scene planned for the next arc? When will that be?" He asked innocently.
Frost recoiled even harder, his eyes going wide from some biting internal fear he had no idea how to address. "Oh! Well, there's, uh… that's not until the second major arc. The first major arc has about seven, only one of which has been published."
Seph nodded compassionately. "I know you tend to work slowly, and that's perfectly fine. But, you've been telling me about your ideas for so long it's hard to keep track of them all. Why don't you sketch more? It can easily be relaxing."
Frost began to calm down, losing the slight stutter in his speech and holding eye contact out of respect. "I suppose, yeah. It's just that, I love writing, and I love making an impact on the lives of others, but I can't seem to focus on it. All the same, I think I get most of my creativity out through little projects with my friends. We'll often make some kind of craft, and sometimes I'll even make a short story to go along with it. I just can't seem to focus on this type of writing."
The unicorn huffed, his head lowered but his mind still racing with thoughts and data, trying to find a solution to his problem.
Seph looked at him for a moment, letting out a gentle sigh and smiling, before getting up from his seat and giving him a hug.
This wasn't a very common occurrence, although Frost absolutely wished it was. He embraced his friend, emotions and worries flowing through his mind like a circular waterfall, in a neverending state of chaotic motion.
As much as he cared for him, Seph couldn't stay for long. He lifted up from his friend, hooves still on his shoulders, and held eye contact with a grin. "Whatever the case, I know you can do it."
Frost yearned for the hug to continue, but only nodded. "Thank you."
With burdens lifted just a little, the changeling returned to his seat, standing beside it as though he was preparing to leave. "Next time you even think about those characters, you better be writing a plot, not random facts!" He proclaimed, still smiling supportively.
"I'll do my best!" Frost promised.
As his friend walked away from their seats, after some arbitrary point, he disappeared completely. His seat, the table, and the buildings around him all soon followed at once. He stood up in shock, seemingly causing his own seat to disappear, before the ground itself vanished. Falling into a sky blue void, his consciousness ended the sentence.
Frost sat up in his bed instantly, possibly making record time.
"Huh!? Why did- is everything still there!?" He thought frantically, knowing it should've been impossible, but panicking nonetheless.
He quickly shifted around in bed, prying open the blinds of the window behind him to peer outside. He could tell immediately that he'd slept for far too long. The shadows on the road indicated that it had to be close to 11:00 in the morning.
He groaned quietly, opting to escape the petrifying clutches of his bed before he ended up staying for another two hours due to a mix of stress and laziness.
He performed his morning stretches, gave a thoughtful look to the pile of seasonal clothes building up in the corner of his room, and opened the door to head out. His dog immediately fell into the room, as she'd been laying against the door before that point.
He groggily made his way down the hall, opting to skip the bathroom entirely in order to get to his workstation faster. Though it was faint now, he remembered the most important part of his dream.
When he arrived at his desk, he looked at everything that adorned it. Pencils, papers, notecards, folders, and a magical device to communicate with his friends. In his head, he knew what he had to do. Images of his characters faded in and out of his train of thought like the sun on a cloudy day.
He lifted open the case of notecards with his magic, but stopped before lifting one out. "Maybe I should shower first?" He thought, still fairly sluggish.
He stared at the cards, existing concepts of characters and scenes trying their hardest to populate his mind.
"Ugh. Maybe I just need food…" he thought, again mentally preparing himself to move.
Instead, like anyone in his time, he turned to the magic orb on his desk and sought the company of his friends. The only thing any of them had sent in the past ten hours was an image of a cat which also appeared to be looking into an orb, but it was funny because it was relatable.
He smiled. "Okay, okay, I'll go and, um-" his characters tried to infiltrate his thoughts again, their vague outlines appearing clearly as they had done hundreds of times, but never anything that inspired a story.
He silently groaned again, checking the orb to no avail. "I just need to pick something with no stress attached, then I can build up to more difficult things," He thought confidently.
He pondered for a moment, standing beside his chair with a hoof to his chin. "Ooh, hey, I've been meaning to write something about myself. I bet those ideas would flow with no resistance at all!"
Refusing to pass up the opportunity to write something fun, he took up a pencil and paper, sat in his seat, and stared. His eyes were wide, his smile great, and dropped his head onto the page.
"How do you write, again?"