Hey! It looks like you're new here. You might want to check out the introduction.
Show rules for this event
A Tale of Bullish Determination
I am Gneebert Halstein, a Minotaur of sturdy stock. Orphaned in youth, I was raised by my kindly Grandmother Bessibelle, a haberdasher. She tried to train me in her trade, but while I understood the responsibilities well enough, my hands were too large and rough to sew the fine fabrics of gloves and neckerchiefs. As Grandmother grew older and her sight worsened, I found work as a farm laborer, and I flatter myself that my skills with a scythe are second to none. Still, despite my added income, we had to scrape to make ends meet.
One day, as I strolled down the streets of Hornton, I saw a rare sight–a Pony from the nation of Equestria. Her green coat was scruffy and her light-purple mane was tangled, and she walked as if dazed and lost. I took pity on her instantly, and introduced myself. She said her name was Rosemary, and she had emigrated to our land a year ago, but fortune had not been kind. In short, we became fast friends, and I somewhat rashly invited her home.
My Grandmother was too kind a person to strongly object, but a strange, scraggly pony was out of place in a traditional Minotaur household, and we could not afford another impoverished mouth to feed. Rosemary tried to appease Grandmother by grazing in the Commons, but no amount of currycombing could tame the wildness of Rosemary’s coat. As Rosemary and I were growing closer in our affections, Grandmother’s disapproval was hard news to bear.
And worse news lay ahead. A large rush order for white gloves had been placed by a wealthy patron, which was welcome business indeed. But Grandmother could no longer sew fast enough to finish such a job herself, and Rosemary’s seamstress skills were too rudimentary to help. Grandmother’s gentle but reproving looks shamed me, and I feared for her health as she worked into the night, ripping her imperfect efforts apart again and again. I knew she would never finish in time.
One evening, Rosemary and I discussed the matter, and I inquired about her magic talent, which I had heard all Equestrian Ponies possess. Did she have any Earthly power to help?
“Mine is a useless talent, Gnee, or I would have mentioned it sooner,” she sighed. “Where I sneeze on the ground, socks spring forth.”
“Socks, you say?”
“I say socks, sir!”
“Hmmm… We do not lack socks. But do you suppose that your talent might be taught to produce, say, fingers at the end of those socks?”
“We shall certainly try!” she declared, stamping her little hoof with a determined look that I found adorable.
Through that week we strove together, working in a fallow field. I gave up my lunches to provide extra food to her, to strengthen her powers. One day she produced a thumb on one of her sneezesocks, making a mitten, and we rejoiced. The next day, she progressed to toe-socks, and by week’s end, she could make a passable silken glove.
But it was not until the day before the deadline that we were entirely satisfied by the quality, and thence we worked through the night. Rosemary sniffed pepper as she ran along the furrows, anointing them with her power, and I cried “Bless you” to encourage her as the gloves sprang from the earth.
We worked into the morning, and as she fertilized the last row I saw a grand carriage in the distance, on its way to the shop! “We must harvest them now!” I cried, taking up my scythe. With great swings I cut free the gloves, while Rosemary folded and wrapped them neatly.
Tired but triumphant, we rushed into the haberdashery, where Grandmother was on the verge of begging our patron for more time. But we proudly strode to the counter and placed the finished gloves before him! He was most pleased with their quality, and awarded Grandmother a bonus for a job well done.
Once he had left, Grandmother turned to us, weeping with joy and relief. “You both certainly have my thanks, and my blessings. How did you accomplish this miracle?”
Rosemary and I looked at each other with love, then turned back to Grandmother, a song rising in our hearts.
“Though she’s got no money, her fur looks kind of funny, and her mane is kind of wild and free…” I sang. “Oh, but gloves rose where my Rosemary snoze!”
“And nobody mows like Gnee!” she finished, hugging me close.
One day, as I strolled down the streets of Hornton, I saw a rare sight–a Pony from the nation of Equestria. Her green coat was scruffy and her light-purple mane was tangled, and she walked as if dazed and lost. I took pity on her instantly, and introduced myself. She said her name was Rosemary, and she had emigrated to our land a year ago, but fortune had not been kind. In short, we became fast friends, and I somewhat rashly invited her home.
My Grandmother was too kind a person to strongly object, but a strange, scraggly pony was out of place in a traditional Minotaur household, and we could not afford another impoverished mouth to feed. Rosemary tried to appease Grandmother by grazing in the Commons, but no amount of currycombing could tame the wildness of Rosemary’s coat. As Rosemary and I were growing closer in our affections, Grandmother’s disapproval was hard news to bear.
And worse news lay ahead. A large rush order for white gloves had been placed by a wealthy patron, which was welcome business indeed. But Grandmother could no longer sew fast enough to finish such a job herself, and Rosemary’s seamstress skills were too rudimentary to help. Grandmother’s gentle but reproving looks shamed me, and I feared for her health as she worked into the night, ripping her imperfect efforts apart again and again. I knew she would never finish in time.
One evening, Rosemary and I discussed the matter, and I inquired about her magic talent, which I had heard all Equestrian Ponies possess. Did she have any Earthly power to help?
“Mine is a useless talent, Gnee, or I would have mentioned it sooner,” she sighed. “Where I sneeze on the ground, socks spring forth.”
“Socks, you say?”
“I say socks, sir!”
“Hmmm… We do not lack socks. But do you suppose that your talent might be taught to produce, say, fingers at the end of those socks?”
“We shall certainly try!” she declared, stamping her little hoof with a determined look that I found adorable.
Through that week we strove together, working in a fallow field. I gave up my lunches to provide extra food to her, to strengthen her powers. One day she produced a thumb on one of her sneezesocks, making a mitten, and we rejoiced. The next day, she progressed to toe-socks, and by week’s end, she could make a passable silken glove.
But it was not until the day before the deadline that we were entirely satisfied by the quality, and thence we worked through the night. Rosemary sniffed pepper as she ran along the furrows, anointing them with her power, and I cried “Bless you” to encourage her as the gloves sprang from the earth.
We worked into the morning, and as she fertilized the last row I saw a grand carriage in the distance, on its way to the shop! “We must harvest them now!” I cried, taking up my scythe. With great swings I cut free the gloves, while Rosemary folded and wrapped them neatly.
Tired but triumphant, we rushed into the haberdashery, where Grandmother was on the verge of begging our patron for more time. But we proudly strode to the counter and placed the finished gloves before him! He was most pleased with their quality, and awarded Grandmother a bonus for a job well done.
Once he had left, Grandmother turned to us, weeping with joy and relief. “You both certainly have my thanks, and my blessings. How did you accomplish this miracle?”
Rosemary and I looked at each other with love, then turned back to Grandmother, a song rising in our hearts.
“Though she’s got no money, her fur looks kind of funny, and her mane is kind of wild and free…” I sang. “Oh, but gloves rose where my Rosemary snoze!”
“And nobody mows like Gnee!” she finished, hugging me close.
So, lemme get this out of the way right quick, which is that, at some level, having the song here at the end is disappointing. While it is certainly fair to pull in a musical inspiration like that, running it at the end kinda has a dampening effect on the fic, wherein some of the clever stuff is suddenly disappointing because you yourself didn't come up with it. This isn't to say there isn't artistry in taking and reshaping material (we're writing fanfiction here, afterall), it IS disappointing to be like "Oh, that paragraph is pretty cool" and it turns out to be mostly song reference.
Basically, manage expectations!
Anyhow, this is a nice, strange, folksy little tale. I kinda wish you managed to keep up the rhythm and sing-song nature a bit better all through. It is cute but I don't think it gels quite as well as it could. Still, a fun little romp.
Basically, manage expectations!
Anyhow, this is a nice, strange, folksy little tale. I kinda wish you managed to keep up the rhythm and sing-song nature a bit better all through. It is cute but I don't think it gels quite as well as it could. Still, a fun little romp.
Doing my tour of stories with low count reviews.
I understand both what you aimed for, author, and >>AndrewRogue's main concern. It's hard, when you reshape a song and its feeling into a story, to not have the audience knows about said song. You want them to feel the same thing it gave you. Either you left it vague, hoping that someone would link the reference to the others, or bluntly give the link at the end of your fic.
Since you went for the second option, I will agree with >>AndrewRogue when he says that it can ruin the story. However, after listening to the song and carefully reading the lyrics, I will disagree about revealing the source material ruining this story in particular.
The story the song tells is quite a generic one, there is nothing really new or original, so keeping the tone and the overall story isn't that much of a problem for me. Moreover, the changes you made made it fit pretty nicely into the MLP universe. They felt quite clever, and I enjoyed following Gnee and Rosemary's journey, trying to provide all the gloves for the client.
So overall, it's a nice and cute story I enjoyed reading. The story structure, while not original, manages to deliver a premise, stakes, events and a resolution (Unfortunately, this one is not on my slate. I hope you'll make it to the finals)
Thank you for sharing.
I understand both what you aimed for, author, and >>AndrewRogue's main concern. It's hard, when you reshape a song and its feeling into a story, to not have the audience knows about said song. You want them to feel the same thing it gave you. Either you left it vague, hoping that someone would link the reference to the others, or bluntly give the link at the end of your fic.
Since you went for the second option, I will agree with >>AndrewRogue when he says that it can ruin the story. However, after listening to the song and carefully reading the lyrics, I will disagree about revealing the source material ruining this story in particular.
The story the song tells is quite a generic one, there is nothing really new or original, so keeping the tone and the overall story isn't that much of a problem for me. Moreover, the changes you made made it fit pretty nicely into the MLP universe. They felt quite clever, and I enjoyed following Gnee and Rosemary's journey, trying to provide all the gloves for the client.
So overall, it's a nice and cute story I enjoyed reading. The story structure, while not original, manages to deliver a premise, stakes, events and a resolution (Unfortunately, this one is not on my slate. I hope you'll make it to the finals)
Thank you for sharing.
Make one change to this and you have a strong contender.
Also either ham it up a bit more at the end (and include a bit more of the song) or a bit less at the start. Not much else to say, this is a laser focus piece doing exactly one thing. Not bad, but needs that one change. Thanks for writing!
Also either ham it up a bit more at the end (and include a bit more of the song) or a bit less at the start. Not much else to say, this is a laser focus piece doing exactly one thing. Not bad, but needs that one change. Thanks for writing!
This story starts as a good and compelling drama and ends up becoming an obtuse and forced feghoot. I liked it much more as a drama. You should write some drama like this, author.
Advice 1: Don't try to switch from dark drama to super-goofy comedy in 750 words.
The problem with putting so much maudlin drama at the start of your feghoot is there isn't enough time to pivot emotion to unexpected (and incredibly silly) comedy. This could have worked if it were a comedy to begin with.
Since Rosemary's talent is completely unlike anything from Friendship is Magic, it feels like you inserted her in order to make the story qualify as FiM-inspired. I don't see anything pony-like in this story at all. Her cutie mark isn't there, the setting is dark and has little to do with friendship (apart from the odd romance), the magic is nothing like anything we've seen before, and the society and setting don't resemble what we'd expect from the show.
This is a minor nitpick, but "Halstein, a Minotaur" feels too close in syntactical form to "Bessibelle, a haberdasher" in the sentence that follows. It makes haberdasher sound like a mythical creature. Also, haberdashers make hats, and we don't see any of that in the story.
You don't need to mention Rosemary's mane and coat colors, but if you do, it should be less up-front character desc-y. You might change "the wilderness of Rosemary's coat" in the following paragraph to "the wilderness of Rosemary's green coat", and strike the colors from her introduction entirely. (Note that you never describe the protagonist in detail, so why Rosemary?) Alternately, you might want to describe Rosemary in a way that reveals how beautiful the protagonist finds her even in that messy state, in which case including the colors would be a good idea. But that would be if you wanted this to be a drama, and it seems apparent you don't.
I've never seen a pony graze in the show, even when they're very hungry. They only eat prepared food. It would be like humans drinking out of a puddle. If she does graze, it would be useful to note how uncomfortable she is doing that (and would underscore her desperation). It's also bizarre to imagine minotaurs grazing, since they're not horizontal so there's no easy way for them to do it.
The organization of thoughts here is confusing and muddled, and I suspect this was due to trimming of the story. It might help to outline the ideas you want to convey to the reader and then group them into cohesive units. For example, I don't understand how grazing in the Commons is contrasted by her coat being hard to comb, or even how those two things are related. Did you mean that no amount of combing could tame Grandmother's coat, metaphorically, rather than Rosemary's? Before getting to the 'hoot, I was certain that was your intent and you just used the wrong name. How would grazing in the Commons increase Grandmother's approval, because she's eating free food or something? And then at the end of the same paragraph it introduces a romance out of nowhere. Earlier in this paragraph it appeared that Rosemary was doing what she did just to survive, not because she was attracted to her kind friend.
I had a few issues with the feghoot. First of all, half of the feghoot is unchanged from the original lyrics, and if you want to 'hoot you should probably try to 'hoot the entire thing. Second, if you need to link to a YouTube video to familiarize your audience with the source material, you might want to choose a different source that your audience is already likely to be familiar with. Third, the feghoot part is (I don't know a nice way to say this) not particularly clever. 'Snoze' isn't a word in English, Rosemary was already in the song (and was also a name), Gnee is easy to insert as a proper noun...
Advice 2: If you want to do a feghoot, spend more time on coming up with the right feghoot.
Ideally, a feghoot should trick the audience into not knowing what's about to hit them until it hits. That's the key idea. In this story, at the point the story abruptly shifts and all the realism disappears, it's immediately obvious that you're trying to cram some truly bizarre events together in order to land a feghoot.
Keep writing! I think you have potential here with either approach, just not both together at once.
Advice 1: Don't try to switch from dark drama to super-goofy comedy in 750 words.
The problem with putting so much maudlin drama at the start of your feghoot is there isn't enough time to pivot emotion to unexpected (and incredibly silly) comedy. This could have worked if it were a comedy to begin with.
Since Rosemary's talent is completely unlike anything from Friendship is Magic, it feels like you inserted her in order to make the story qualify as FiM-inspired. I don't see anything pony-like in this story at all. Her cutie mark isn't there, the setting is dark and has little to do with friendship (apart from the odd romance), the magic is nothing like anything we've seen before, and the society and setting don't resemble what we'd expect from the show.
This is a minor nitpick, but "Halstein, a Minotaur" feels too close in syntactical form to "Bessibelle, a haberdasher" in the sentence that follows. It makes haberdasher sound like a mythical creature. Also, haberdashers make hats, and we don't see any of that in the story.
You don't need to mention Rosemary's mane and coat colors, but if you do, it should be less up-front character desc-y. You might change "the wilderness of Rosemary's coat" in the following paragraph to "the wilderness of Rosemary's green coat", and strike the colors from her introduction entirely. (Note that you never describe the protagonist in detail, so why Rosemary?) Alternately, you might want to describe Rosemary in a way that reveals how beautiful the protagonist finds her even in that messy state, in which case including the colors would be a good idea. But that would be if you wanted this to be a drama, and it seems apparent you don't.
I've never seen a pony graze in the show, even when they're very hungry. They only eat prepared food. It would be like humans drinking out of a puddle. If she does graze, it would be useful to note how uncomfortable she is doing that (and would underscore her desperation). It's also bizarre to imagine minotaurs grazing, since they're not horizontal so there's no easy way for them to do it.
The organization of thoughts here is confusing and muddled, and I suspect this was due to trimming of the story. It might help to outline the ideas you want to convey to the reader and then group them into cohesive units. For example, I don't understand how grazing in the Commons is contrasted by her coat being hard to comb, or even how those two things are related. Did you mean that no amount of combing could tame Grandmother's coat, metaphorically, rather than Rosemary's? Before getting to the 'hoot, I was certain that was your intent and you just used the wrong name. How would grazing in the Commons increase Grandmother's approval, because she's eating free food or something? And then at the end of the same paragraph it introduces a romance out of nowhere. Earlier in this paragraph it appeared that Rosemary was doing what she did just to survive, not because she was attracted to her kind friend.
I had a few issues with the feghoot. First of all, half of the feghoot is unchanged from the original lyrics, and if you want to 'hoot you should probably try to 'hoot the entire thing. Second, if you need to link to a YouTube video to familiarize your audience with the source material, you might want to choose a different source that your audience is already likely to be familiar with. Third, the feghoot part is (I don't know a nice way to say this) not particularly clever. 'Snoze' isn't a word in English, Rosemary was already in the song (and was also a name), Gnee is easy to insert as a proper noun...
Advice 2: If you want to do a feghoot, spend more time on coming up with the right feghoot.
Ideally, a feghoot should trick the audience into not knowing what's about to hit them until it hits. That's the key idea. In this story, at the point the story abruptly shifts and all the realism disappears, it's immediately obvious that you're trying to cram some truly bizarre events together in order to land a feghoot.
Keep writing! I think you have potential here with either approach, just not both together at once.