You pace back and forth across your living room, the cloud of smoke from your lit cigarette hanging in your mouth growing thicker overhead.
Let’s see... Let's go over the facts... Caramella is stuck in a rut in her little home town and wants to do more, be more... Her parents encourage her to take up the family business of running the little general store, but she wants to go to the city... But... She can’t find a way out.
Taking another long drag on your cigarette, you make your way over to the typewriter and let out the smoke as you concentrate on the magic within yourself to your horn and start to press down on the keys as the words start to flow from your imagination to the paper.
“But momma! I just wanna live my life, why can’t you let me jus-
You stop and groan aloud as you hear the phone ring and get up angrily as you march your way over to the distraction.
“Hello?” you ask angrily.
From the other end, a gruff voice laughed a bit before doing what sounded like clapping his hooves together. “Hey, hey! How’s my favorite bestseller?”
You let out a heavy sigh and put your cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. “I’d be better if you didn’t check in on me everyday, Trump Card.”
“What’s wrong with just saying hi?” your agent asks with a bit of a chuckle. “I just wanted to-”
“You wanted to see how I’m doing,” you say bitterly as you make your way to the window. “Listen, writing this new novel is already a pain in the ass and you’re not making it any easier if you keep poking me while I'm writing, asking how far I've gotten.”
You can feel Trump Card’s temper flare a bit as you look out at New Colt City, his voice just a hair away from yelling.
“Hey come on, I just wanted to see how you were doing with the latest book, I-
“A book I didn’t even want to write!” you say rather angrily. “When I said I had a new book planned at that interview last week, I meant that horror story I’ve been working on, not another romance novel! Why did you tell all those advertisers I was?”
“Oh don’t be like that. Your fans want this, they eat up your work! A new romance novel would-”
“Fuck you! What about what I want?!?" you yell out angrily. "What about Geist? I’ve been wanting to write that story for years now! I told you that I was going to take a break from romance for a while and start branching out into new genres and here you are, tying me into promises for new stories I don't want to write!”
Trump Card goes dead silent as you start to dig into him.
"Now listen, I like writing romance and it gives me the warm fuzzies when my fans tell me how much they loved the story or how much they cried when this happened or how good of a author I am, but I'm the writer here, not you! If I want write horror, fantasy, or science fiction, I'm damn well going to write it and I don't need you telling my fans or me what I'm writing!"
“But I was just trying to-”
“You were just trying to make a quick buck, Trump,” you accuse sharply. “Don’t try to deny it. I know you. Now you listen here and you listen good. I’m going to write this novel and then I’m going to work on Geist, The Curtain, and The Wanderer. Not the sequel you’ve already promised.”
From the other end, you hear Trump Card audibly gulp. “Y...You know about that?”
“Yeah, and you’re lucky I don’t cut you as my agent for that."
"You wouldn't dare!" Trump yells angrily.
"Try me, I'll be my own agent. You know how spiteful I can be, so just fucking try me. Now, I want to be left alone to my work,” you say as you open up your window. “And I want to get away from it all.”
“What do you mean?” Trump Card asks as you lean out the window, taking in New Colt City in its entirety.
“You hear that?”
"Hear what?"
Grabbing a hold of the phone, you hold it out to the city and let Trump Card hear what you heard. "What about now?" you ask over the dull roar of the city. “It’s pretty hard to write about a small town mare when all I got to draw off on for inspiration is this city that never sleeps. I want to move to another town. Somewhere quiet and out of the way.”
"I don't think-"
"Trump, I'm tired, cranky, and on my third carton of cigarettes. I'm not going to argue. Either you let me go find myself and do write this fucking story or I'm leaving you and taking my business elsewhere."
Trump Card lets out a heavy sigh. “Alright, alright. You got me. I'll start making arrangements so you can move to... Where did you want to go, again?"
Looking out on the horizon, you feel a small smile start to grow on your face as you grab yourself a new cigarette “I hear Ponyville is good this time of year.”
“Okay, I’ll check around and see what I can do about getting you a place to stay.”
“...Thanks. I’ll get my stuff packed,” you say before hanging up the phone.
Chewing on the cigarette in your mouth a bit, you look around your living room and sigh aloud. Books, papers, a few dozen ashtrays, and enough empty bottles of energy drink littered the place and this place in the house was the cleanest.
Grabbing a hold of a nearby lighter, you touch it to your cigarette.
“This may take a while...”