To My Uncle

by PaulAsaran

Twenty-Eight

The podium was a sturdy basalt. Keen marveled at the smooth feel of it beneath her hooves. She took care to set the book down first, then the papers. She wanted to adjust her dress, but cast the thought aside as the jitters getting the better of her. When she looked up, she found every pony in the Rock Bottom Inn staring back at her.

Right. No pressure.

Uncle Fine sat at the table directly opposite her. He was all smiles, but for the first time that night it was intended purely for her benefit. She returned one now, just so he’d know it was appreciated.

She took a slow, heavy breath to ease her mind, cast her eyes over the first few words, and began her speech.

“Twenty-five years ago was a traumatic time in my life, a period of uncertainty and fear. One would think that stallions sneaking into a filly’s room on seemingly random nights would be part of the problem. But that's what Uncle Fine would do, against Mom’s better judgment.”

That with a grin at Lightning Dust, who did her part and shot a fake scowl Fine’s way. He took it with an amiable shrug.

“He told me stories. Some were from his children’s books. Some he got from other authors. Most were made up on the spot, flights of fancy designed for little more than to teleport a frightened, timid little filly away from all her troubles and worries for a little while.”

A pause. She hadn’t meant to pause. Her throat just didn’t want to cooperate at the moment. Another breath to clear her head.

“I treasured those stories. I couldn’t help but think of all the joy and fun they offered. If something like that can make a filly with terrible experiences like myself just be a filly for a while, they must be powerful things indeed. So when the thought came that I might tell the story, I was stunned by the very idea. I could tell a story too? Maybe, if I did, I could bring that kind of joy to another little pony. There was just one problem.

“I stink at telling stories.”

A round of chuckles passed through the room. Uncle Fine looked as though he wanted to object, but a pink hoof to his shoulder stilled his tongue. For that, Keen was glad. She couldn’t afford an interruption right now.

“But as much as writing isn’t my special talent, I still had a story to tell. I came back to it time and time again for my entire life. I regularly went to Uncle Fine for help, and in that way I learned so much about his art.

“I learned how different ponies find inspiration in different ways. I learned that having a different style isn’t a bad thing, just as much as I learned that it’s important to study what others have already done. I discovered the agony that comes with having somepony see your work for the first time and rip it to shreds, how such moments can be emotional, traumatic, and infuriating. But when you look back on them in a few years’ time, you realize that they hurt you because they cared, and wanted you to be the best writer you could possibly be.”

Oh, no. Her eyes were burning. She couldn’t cry, not now. If she started she’d never stop! Keen rubbed at her eyes, forced down a sniff, and made herself keep going. She didn’t dare look her uncle in the eyes.

“It’s an exquisite agony, creativity. More so for those of us who are self-critical and worry over every word. I watched my uncle write, witnessed how he can pour out words from his quill like water flowing from a tap. At times like that I’d feel so inadequate. I thought it meant I was bad at this. And I am, to be sure. So, so bad at it.”

No chuckles this time. The room was quiet. It might have been intimidating at any other time.

But Uncle Fine was there.

“But Uncle Fine was there. Always. When I doubted myself, he encouraged me. When I felt like quitting, he reminded me of why I kept struggling. On nights when I got tired of the blank page staring back at me, he’d cheer me up. I learned the craft and dragged every stubborn, deeply rooted word from my brain because I had a desperate need to prove something.”

Grabbing the book in her hooves, Keen lifted it up for all to see. Eyes shifted to the tome, ears perked. Uncle Fine sat up straight, his smile growing so wide as to rival his companion’s most pearly displays. It was a simple book of faux leather, colored green with the words To My Uncle emblazoned in front.

And there, in small type on the bottom of the cover, was the name of the author: Keen Arrow.

“I can do it. It took me twenty-three years, but I told my story. It might not be the best. It won’t sell out. It won’t make ponies weep, or laugh, or feel unparalleled joy. But it’s mine, as only I can tell it, because nopony else will. It was worth every. Single. Second. Because now I know. I can do this. And if I can do this, I can do anything.”

Rubbing her eyes to rid them of her tears, she turned her wavering smile to her beaming uncle. “You once asked me why I put myself through all of this.” Taking the book in her magic, she levitated it over to his waiting hooves. “You’ll just have to read it and find out. But for the sake of this speech… Thank you. For everything.”

Her dear uncle had tears in his eyes, the old sap. He held the book close, shivering and grinning. He tried to say something, but could only resort to a nod.

“And Pinkie Pie?”

The happy mare, in her white dress and beaming, teary smile, gave Keen her full attention.

“You’re a very lucky mare. You better take care of him.”

Touching her golden necklace, the newly minted bride declared, “That’s a Pinkie Promise!”

And so the speech ended and the wedding reception continued, Rainbow Dash taking the podium for her own speech. Keen went to sit next to her mother, who was adamantly denying that the tears on her cheeks were anything but ‘liquid pride’.

Keen didn’t know if she’d ever write another book. She didn’t know if the one she had was any good, although she maintained a certain optimism over that. What really mattered now was the experience, the awareness of what she had accomplished. She was a writer now. Officially, published work and all. She could only hope that she was also now a storyteller.

Yes, a storyteller. For as her uncle once told her, storytellers and writers were different things. Anyone could put words to a page. Anyone could tell you about a series of events, as they happened, chronologically. Facts, concepts, characters, rising action, climax, all the clinical things that any textbook could talk about, those things didn’t make a storyteller.

A writer told you what happened.

A storyteller made you experience it.

Maybe Keen had reached that vaunted level. Perhaps not. Only time and her readership would tell. But really, there was only one pony’s judgment she needed. As she met his warm, tear-filled eyes across the room, she knew she’d be happy with her work.

Whatever the result.

Author's Note:

When Darkevony asked me to write a story about my thoughts and feelings regarding writing, I knew I didn't want to write a non-story of a self-insert pontificating (pony-tificating?) on the act of writing. I realized very quickly that I already had the perfect characters for the prompt, I just had to figure out how to do it.

Fine and Keen, at least for this story, each personify (ponify?) different aspects of my own writing experiences. I am in some ways like Fine Crime now, but there was a time when I was Keen. Their experiences aren't one-to-one with my own. For example, I have always had Fine's ability to just start putting down words. It's extremely rare that I sit down in front of a screen and stare in blank uncertainty of what to write. The words just come out. But like Fine, I've come to learn that the words coming out like that aren't necessarily the right words.

And that's a big part of this story: different writers approach it in different ways, and the act means something different for each of us.

At the same time, I wanted to portray some of the lessons I learned along the way. Keen's anger at suddenly facing real criticism is heavily influenced by my own first encounter with it. Fine's claim that writers need to be confident and perhaps even selfish does indeed reflect my own perspective. Keen's sudden desire to tell a story at a young age was my own, and her need to keep the contents a secret from Fine are also reflective of my instincts (I hate having someone read over my shoulder as I'm working).

Again, that's all this is: a mish-mash of my thoughts squished into the form of a story. Is it a good story? Eh, I feel I could have handled certain aspects better. But that's okay. It's a story, it's out, and I choose to be happy with that.

Comments

[Tsuguri]

I read this a few days ago, but held off on saying so because I thought you'd deserve a better very first comment than what I would provide. I am finding myself very confused as to why no one else has taken it up, or how you haven't gotten the necessary votes for the ratings to be displayed yet, so here I go against my regular nature.

It's been awhile since I read the No Heros series, so it was nice to visit Fine Crime again. And as you said I didn't need to remember most of the details, but it was nice to have them as context.

Overall it was a nice relaxing bit for what people/ponies go through as writers, and I'll need to reread this if I can ever get myself to pick up my own story again. Keen was fairly cute throughout, even as a young mare, and does a good job subbing in for the audience.

So have at least one confirmed thumbs up and shelved favorite from me.

[PaulAsaran]

I am finding myself very confused as to why no one else has taken it up, or how you haven't gotten the necessary votes for the ratings to be displayed yet, so here I go against my regular nature.

I think it's just that No Heroes is an old series and not a lot of people on the site nowadays are familiar with it. Those who aren't see a story at the end of a series with no less than ten predecessors and it may cause them to balk, regardless of my reassurances. Eh, no matter, what little reception I have gotten is positive and I choose to be happy with that. Glad to finally get a comment to that point though, so thanks!

[Bad Horse]

The list of previous stories, the strange and unexplained chapter names with so many numbers missing, and the author's note in the first chapter (titled "five") about necessary background from other stories, all made me think that the story was incomplete, or that I was reading it the wrong way, and was supposed to read other things first. I think that's turning readers away.

Hey! The ratings showed up when I clicked the green thumb! 10 up and 0 down. That was so satisfying.

[PaulAsaran]

11722266
I can understand the many previous stories being an issue, and the author's note in the first chapter, but I don't get why the chapter names would imply an incomplete story when it is specifically labelled as completed. Then again, I've been alive long enough to realize that what feels obvious to me won't be obvious to others. Usually after the fact, but it is what it is.

Hey! The ratings showed up when I clicked the green thumb! 10 up and 0 down. That was so satisfying.

Oh, I can has ratings? Sweet.

[Bad Horse]

11722280
It's common for chapter names to simply be the chapter numbers, so seeing the many missing numbers suggests there are missing chapters, particularly when the numbers are in sequence, and there's no explanation for what else the numbers could mean. It isn't obviously more likely that you intentionally wrote a story with weird and confusing chapter titles, than that you accidentally tagged it complete. And if you did intentionally use weird and confusing chapter titles, some people will guess you're trying to be artsy, and they don't want artsy.

Also, they might not be going away, but going to read the stories in sequence.

[Bad Horse]

The view count graph on Shadow Pony is crazy! It isn't going down in number of views over time! It got twice as many views on May 19, 2021, as on any other day. Why do new people keep discovering this story?

[PaulAsaran]

11722298
I suppose we can sum all of this up to "Paul thought he could be indirect when he couldn't. Again." I keep assuming readers will "get it" only to have it explained to me that, no, I should be a bit more direct. At least with chapter titles in this case.

Whelp, lesson reiterated (for the bajillionth time). I won't be fixing it either, because this will serve as a nice reminder for the future.

[PaulAsaran]

11738551
I didn't start doing it until recently, but yes, I now put a few drops of Tabasco sauce in my hot chocolate.

[Bad Horse]

Pretty good job of writing a didactic story without making it, well, didactic. (The word has two senses.)

I'm ambivalent about Keen's obsession with finishing the story. Many wannabe writers spend many years on the same long story. Usually they don't finish it. If they do, they don't usually write anything else. It burns them out when they get to the end and realize it isn't any good. I always warn people against spending years on a single story unless they've already written lots of stories.

I'm also ambivalent about whether she "should" have tried so hard at something she (if we take her word for it) is incurably bad at, and doesn't plan to keep doing. Is this admirable persistence, or obsession?

I don't take her word for it; for me this story ends on a note of suspense: Is she really incurably bad? It's hard for anyone to ever know, whether they're ignored and unknown, or a best-selling author. Maybe she'll write another story, and another.

In any case, this story has what I think is the most-important quality in stories: it's real. This really happens to many people, and who am I to say what's right for them? Who knows what they got from writing their one story? I don't, because that's a story none of them have ever told, AFAIK. There are lots of stories about becoming a writer; very few about not becoming a writer.

[PaulAsaran]

11722300
I totally missed this comment somehow when you first sent it. Now that I check though, you're right, it is strange. The only guess I have is that maybe it's because it's the first story in the series and relatively short so people migrate to it for a test run?

11738564
I have my own opinions on whether Keen goes on to write more, but I think I'll keep them to myself for now. Nothing is canon until I've written it after all, so even if I said something now I could potentially change my mind later. If anything, I find your ambivalence and lack of faith in Keen's word to be good things. Considering the manner of the perspective, I would say that she's not the most reliable narrator, and even Darkevony (whom this story was technically written for) found the decisions by both Keen and Fine questionable (though much more the latter than the former). That fits wonderfully with the overall manner of No Heroes, or so I think.

[Bad Horse]

11738604
I posted a short blog post about "To My Uncle".

If anything, I find your ambivalence and lack of faith in Keen's word to be good things

I agree. It's more realistic to end without certainty about what will happen after.

[Forcalor]

This is a good and personal story. Thank you for sharing these feelings