Hey! It looks like you're new here. You might want to check out the introduction.
Show rules for this event
The Dressmaker's Lament
On any other night, I believe I would wish to be admiring the stars. Luna has simply outdone herself of late, if I do say so myself! Why, just the other night a lovely new constellation blossomed in the south to commemorate the Pillars and celebrate their return. Certainly a vast improvement from that ghastly crustacean she thought would make a lovely ‘gift’ for our newest undersea allies. Of all things, she had to choose a - no! But no matter, I shall not think of it.
Would that tonight were a night for stargazing. Would that I be free to lose myself in the beautiful creations of true artisans showcasing their craft. But no! No, no, no. No, instead I stare, and stare, and stare at the mannequin before me. It has a simple purpose, yet a noble one, for who or what else can claim, again and again, to be the first to wear an original Rarity? Certainly my clients may be the first ponies to enjoy such finery, but the true honor belongs to that which sits before me, the first recipient of my craft, and perhaps my only true companion in this otherwise lonely work.
I do wonder what it would tell me, if it could speak. Could think. Does it appreciate its part in ushering finery into the world? Each of us a mother, in our own way, and our child a vision of beauty whose purpose is to let somepony shine just a little brighter for a night, a week, a lifetime if cared for.
So many of my children born inside this room and let loose upon the world. Most, I know, make a splash. Many I find are begging to be born, seizing me in a strange fever of linens and needle and thread, a frenzy of sewing and shaping and slowly slipping from dream to reality.
Most.
But not all.
There are those children for whom I struggle, for whom I rant and rave before my humble companion who bears silent witness to my internal frenzy as I strive to create, to know just what my audience of one will adore, to anticipate not just their needs but the reaction of the crowd as well, for ill judgement by mob can render even the most satisfied customer livid.
Tonight, I think, is such a night. Over the last days, sketch after sketch has littered the floor, endless flurries that have left my drafting desk nearly a fortress of discarded paper. Days I can no longer spare, for tonight, in these final hours, I know that morning brings with it the most relentless, the most implacable of foes.
The delivery date. Promised, agreed upon, and though I may hem and haw and delay, it would only do both reputation and pride injury.
Oh, if only that foul celestial crustacean could storm Ponyville itself, I might have some excuse. ‘I was doing battle, my lady. I most regret it, but the evil shelled beastie rent your dress in twain and I need time to recreate it! Yes, of course I shall work with full speed, but there is the issue of re-acquiring materials and of course there is the celebratory Vanquishing Feast, and -’
Foolish dreams of a foolish mare, are they not? Tell me, my dearest silent companion, what would you do when bereft of even the barest hint of inspiration? Were our positions reversed, and you faced with the unenviable pursuit to which I now am bent, what would you do?
I run down the list as I have so many times before. I cannot delay, for I fear extra time would still inevitably lead to this same result. I must banish the very thought! I could do less than my best work, but even if that slipped past the eyes of everypony else, I? I would know. I would bear the subtle shame of knowing that a client who trusted me, who trusted Rarity, would have had her trust cast upon the floor like my abandoned plans.
I could flee, of course. Abandon Ponyville, abandon my business, take up a new life in some distant village. Perhaps a simple seamstress, mending garments and oh no, no, no, that would never do for so very, very many reasons. Twilight would find me, for one. And were she to be delayed in doing so, who knows if the very fate of all Equestria wouldn’t be at stake in the interim, and perhaps my failure to be present would…
Rarity, darling, you are dithering. The work must be completed tonight! It must. It must…
But I have nothing! Nothing save piles of paper and an empty dummy and the moon drifting past the stars, unstoppable clockwork night promising the certainty of inevitable failure if I cannot get started!
What, what, what do I do?! Why tonight, why again, why must I be at war with myself and searching for even some small spark of inspiration, some new way to combine warp and weft, to sew, to bedazzle, to once more let the mannequin sparkle with new beauty?!
It was not like this, once. In simpler times, I believe, there was a joy I miss. There were no standards, no worries, just me and a dream and I did not let my fears nor worries consume me. I would dabble with whatever struck my fancy and, and, and...and it would have been enough.
Tonight though, tonight, tonight, tonight - there is no way I can dissatisfy this client! No way I can possibly let her down, for she of all ponies will know I have done less than my best, and she shall be unable to hide her disapproval and so everypony will know of my shame, including…
Including far too many ponies for me to simply let myself wallow in self-pity! I am stronger than this! I am Rarity! I find beauty in the most drab accoutrements and find a way to bring them forth into a new light!
A crunch from beneath my hoof startles me and I realize I am pacing wildly around the room till I have stepped upon discarded papers, a half-torn malformed veil peeking out amongst the other crumpled parchments and like all its companions it simply will. Not. Do!
I wish this were another simple job! Some gala or ball or simple affair with which I would be satisfied with my usual efforts. Or any efforts! Would that my client had an idea of what she wanted, some parameters that would constrain me, but no, no, no!
No, I have parameters but they are too vague! Or perhaps too specific. So many colors I cannot use. So many gemstones that simply are inappropriate, no emeralds or rubies or many of my other favorites, kaleidoscopic colors that today of all days are banned, banned, banned!
The client demands white, ivory, pale snow, pearls perhaps, maybe if I am lucky I will find a way to slip in a few sapphires. A little sparkling tiara? No, that would clash with the veil and there must be a veil and sanity slips in moments like this as I spin and stare once more at the mannequin.
The heat of my stare leaves me certain it will burst into flames at any moment and for a phantom breath I smell smoke and realize my horn is alight and catch myself and briefly I am grateful I am not Twilight Sparkle or Starlight Glimmer for if I were either of them not just the dummy but my whole boutique might be aflame!
Nary a spark nor speck of soot soils the mannequin, however, and a tension ebbs from me as head falls and I stare miserable at my hooves, unbidden salt gathering wet at edges of eyes then falling to stain the wood below.
I fear I am to fail. I fear that the client will be unhappy, that she shall go forth tomorrow eve, sweep down the aisle even as the crowd oohs and ahhs at whatever ghastly abomination I finally spin together, she...she shall know, and in knowing so spoil the moment not just for her but for, for…
But what do I do? The one waiting, the one who truly matters, not even the client or perhaps the true client for whom the actual client is insistent on being radiant for, she will not care about finery. She will not care about splendor, but sorrow, that shall spoil the sweetness of the moment and I cannot do that to her!
If only I hadn’t accepted this commission! If only I had bidden her go to another dressmaker. Coco, perhaps, who I am certain would have created something radiant, but I, I in my vanity was certain I could make the perfect dress for the occasion! A wedding gown to outshine all wedding gowns, the bride to be resplendent and radiant and every other wonderful word in the book and bare, bare, bare nudity is all I have, a blank mannequin and paper and reams of fabric waiting for me and I, I alone am failing them all.
I am failing me. I am failing her, and I cannot…
Foul moon! Would that you would stay still so that I could work in peace as long as it would take, so that I could finish and then sleep and awaken refreshed and racing to face the day, eager and excited and twitterpated because it will be a day to remember, a day that will be just perfect, for I am certain no Changeling is waiting to play havoc this time!
This wedding, at least, and now that I say the world to myself, now that I force myself to acknowledge at least part of why I must give it my all, why I must make the client - here I still refer to her as client - why I must make her shine above all else.
Not for her. She, I know, she would find a way to endure even the most ghastly of seaweed-hued mane were that her lot in life and in the end flaunt it. A time to wallow in self-pity, yes, but in the end triumphant!
Tonight. Tonight I am blank. Tonight I have nothing for her, nor for her bride to be. How droll! I almost said bridge to be, so caught up was I in ranting to myself and wouldn’t that be a sight? My dearest bridge, I vow to cross you always, to maintain you far above this watery canyon, to bring forth polish and spare parts and -
I should tell her that, later. I am sure she would smile. Such a quirky sense of humor, but what else could it possibly be? Strangeness is itself one of the few novelties to remain when one has seen nearly everything else, and what stranger things would there be than wedding twixt Seamstress and Suspension Bridge?
And I see her now, staring at me, arriving early! But there is still time and yet she stares at me, and I stare back, and every movement I make she mimics and I howl at her and before I know it I am lunging forward and my hooves beat at her and she pounds back, clack-clack-CRACK! And just like that, she is not one, but marred by a jagged line fracturing her face, and I stare back at reflection and now we are different, and there is only me.
Yes, dearest me, dearest most critical, most horrible client I have ever undertaken, most evil, vile Rarity! In my own vanity I swore to craft the perfect wedding dress to shine for my beloved, and in the few precious hours before I am due to altar I have nothing.
Nothing, nothing, nothing, and that’s it! That, oh, yes, oh yes, you crafty, evil, wonderful mare!
So be it. Perhaps I have nothing. Perhaps that is all that it shall come to. I see it now! I shall saunter down the aisle not in a dress, oh no! Everypony will be expecting finery, craning their necks for that moment the doors open and I trot forth and I can see the looks on their faces now as I walk in completely unclothed!
Oh, that will be perfect. My beloved cares not for frippery such as dresses, I know that. But laughter? I suspect she will be unable to keep a straight face while the pompous nobility get ever puffier when the bride breaks every tradition and dares wed so wonderful a mare as my darling while herself in the buff!
I wonder how long it will take her to laugh?
Or maybe her sister will beat her to it. It shall be chaos either way, and many shall not appreciate my newest dress, but I know the one that truly matters will love my little surprise.
Adieu, my dearest mannequin. As always, you get to be the first to wear my newest creation, and I hope you enjoy the not-Princess’s new clothes for a few hours more!
I bid a final fond farewell to the moon, for tomorrow, I go to dream with the sun.
Would that tonight were a night for stargazing. Would that I be free to lose myself in the beautiful creations of true artisans showcasing their craft. But no! No, no, no. No, instead I stare, and stare, and stare at the mannequin before me. It has a simple purpose, yet a noble one, for who or what else can claim, again and again, to be the first to wear an original Rarity? Certainly my clients may be the first ponies to enjoy such finery, but the true honor belongs to that which sits before me, the first recipient of my craft, and perhaps my only true companion in this otherwise lonely work.
I do wonder what it would tell me, if it could speak. Could think. Does it appreciate its part in ushering finery into the world? Each of us a mother, in our own way, and our child a vision of beauty whose purpose is to let somepony shine just a little brighter for a night, a week, a lifetime if cared for.
So many of my children born inside this room and let loose upon the world. Most, I know, make a splash. Many I find are begging to be born, seizing me in a strange fever of linens and needle and thread, a frenzy of sewing and shaping and slowly slipping from dream to reality.
Most.
But not all.
There are those children for whom I struggle, for whom I rant and rave before my humble companion who bears silent witness to my internal frenzy as I strive to create, to know just what my audience of one will adore, to anticipate not just their needs but the reaction of the crowd as well, for ill judgement by mob can render even the most satisfied customer livid.
Tonight, I think, is such a night. Over the last days, sketch after sketch has littered the floor, endless flurries that have left my drafting desk nearly a fortress of discarded paper. Days I can no longer spare, for tonight, in these final hours, I know that morning brings with it the most relentless, the most implacable of foes.
The delivery date. Promised, agreed upon, and though I may hem and haw and delay, it would only do both reputation and pride injury.
Oh, if only that foul celestial crustacean could storm Ponyville itself, I might have some excuse. ‘I was doing battle, my lady. I most regret it, but the evil shelled beastie rent your dress in twain and I need time to recreate it! Yes, of course I shall work with full speed, but there is the issue of re-acquiring materials and of course there is the celebratory Vanquishing Feast, and -’
Foolish dreams of a foolish mare, are they not? Tell me, my dearest silent companion, what would you do when bereft of even the barest hint of inspiration? Were our positions reversed, and you faced with the unenviable pursuit to which I now am bent, what would you do?
I run down the list as I have so many times before. I cannot delay, for I fear extra time would still inevitably lead to this same result. I must banish the very thought! I could do less than my best work, but even if that slipped past the eyes of everypony else, I? I would know. I would bear the subtle shame of knowing that a client who trusted me, who trusted Rarity, would have had her trust cast upon the floor like my abandoned plans.
I could flee, of course. Abandon Ponyville, abandon my business, take up a new life in some distant village. Perhaps a simple seamstress, mending garments and oh no, no, no, that would never do for so very, very many reasons. Twilight would find me, for one. And were she to be delayed in doing so, who knows if the very fate of all Equestria wouldn’t be at stake in the interim, and perhaps my failure to be present would…
Rarity, darling, you are dithering. The work must be completed tonight! It must. It must…
But I have nothing! Nothing save piles of paper and an empty dummy and the moon drifting past the stars, unstoppable clockwork night promising the certainty of inevitable failure if I cannot get started!
What, what, what do I do?! Why tonight, why again, why must I be at war with myself and searching for even some small spark of inspiration, some new way to combine warp and weft, to sew, to bedazzle, to once more let the mannequin sparkle with new beauty?!
It was not like this, once. In simpler times, I believe, there was a joy I miss. There were no standards, no worries, just me and a dream and I did not let my fears nor worries consume me. I would dabble with whatever struck my fancy and, and, and...and it would have been enough.
Tonight though, tonight, tonight, tonight - there is no way I can dissatisfy this client! No way I can possibly let her down, for she of all ponies will know I have done less than my best, and she shall be unable to hide her disapproval and so everypony will know of my shame, including…
Including far too many ponies for me to simply let myself wallow in self-pity! I am stronger than this! I am Rarity! I find beauty in the most drab accoutrements and find a way to bring them forth into a new light!
A crunch from beneath my hoof startles me and I realize I am pacing wildly around the room till I have stepped upon discarded papers, a half-torn malformed veil peeking out amongst the other crumpled parchments and like all its companions it simply will. Not. Do!
I wish this were another simple job! Some gala or ball or simple affair with which I would be satisfied with my usual efforts. Or any efforts! Would that my client had an idea of what she wanted, some parameters that would constrain me, but no, no, no!
No, I have parameters but they are too vague! Or perhaps too specific. So many colors I cannot use. So many gemstones that simply are inappropriate, no emeralds or rubies or many of my other favorites, kaleidoscopic colors that today of all days are banned, banned, banned!
The client demands white, ivory, pale snow, pearls perhaps, maybe if I am lucky I will find a way to slip in a few sapphires. A little sparkling tiara? No, that would clash with the veil and there must be a veil and sanity slips in moments like this as I spin and stare once more at the mannequin.
The heat of my stare leaves me certain it will burst into flames at any moment and for a phantom breath I smell smoke and realize my horn is alight and catch myself and briefly I am grateful I am not Twilight Sparkle or Starlight Glimmer for if I were either of them not just the dummy but my whole boutique might be aflame!
Nary a spark nor speck of soot soils the mannequin, however, and a tension ebbs from me as head falls and I stare miserable at my hooves, unbidden salt gathering wet at edges of eyes then falling to stain the wood below.
I fear I am to fail. I fear that the client will be unhappy, that she shall go forth tomorrow eve, sweep down the aisle even as the crowd oohs and ahhs at whatever ghastly abomination I finally spin together, she...she shall know, and in knowing so spoil the moment not just for her but for, for…
But what do I do? The one waiting, the one who truly matters, not even the client or perhaps the true client for whom the actual client is insistent on being radiant for, she will not care about finery. She will not care about splendor, but sorrow, that shall spoil the sweetness of the moment and I cannot do that to her!
If only I hadn’t accepted this commission! If only I had bidden her go to another dressmaker. Coco, perhaps, who I am certain would have created something radiant, but I, I in my vanity was certain I could make the perfect dress for the occasion! A wedding gown to outshine all wedding gowns, the bride to be resplendent and radiant and every other wonderful word in the book and bare, bare, bare nudity is all I have, a blank mannequin and paper and reams of fabric waiting for me and I, I alone am failing them all.
I am failing me. I am failing her, and I cannot…
Foul moon! Would that you would stay still so that I could work in peace as long as it would take, so that I could finish and then sleep and awaken refreshed and racing to face the day, eager and excited and twitterpated because it will be a day to remember, a day that will be just perfect, for I am certain no Changeling is waiting to play havoc this time!
This wedding, at least, and now that I say the world to myself, now that I force myself to acknowledge at least part of why I must give it my all, why I must make the client - here I still refer to her as client - why I must make her shine above all else.
Not for her. She, I know, she would find a way to endure even the most ghastly of seaweed-hued mane were that her lot in life and in the end flaunt it. A time to wallow in self-pity, yes, but in the end triumphant!
Tonight. Tonight I am blank. Tonight I have nothing for her, nor for her bride to be. How droll! I almost said bridge to be, so caught up was I in ranting to myself and wouldn’t that be a sight? My dearest bridge, I vow to cross you always, to maintain you far above this watery canyon, to bring forth polish and spare parts and -
I should tell her that, later. I am sure she would smile. Such a quirky sense of humor, but what else could it possibly be? Strangeness is itself one of the few novelties to remain when one has seen nearly everything else, and what stranger things would there be than wedding twixt Seamstress and Suspension Bridge?
And I see her now, staring at me, arriving early! But there is still time and yet she stares at me, and I stare back, and every movement I make she mimics and I howl at her and before I know it I am lunging forward and my hooves beat at her and she pounds back, clack-clack-CRACK! And just like that, she is not one, but marred by a jagged line fracturing her face, and I stare back at reflection and now we are different, and there is only me.
Yes, dearest me, dearest most critical, most horrible client I have ever undertaken, most evil, vile Rarity! In my own vanity I swore to craft the perfect wedding dress to shine for my beloved, and in the few precious hours before I am due to altar I have nothing.
Nothing, nothing, nothing, and that’s it! That, oh, yes, oh yes, you crafty, evil, wonderful mare!
So be it. Perhaps I have nothing. Perhaps that is all that it shall come to. I see it now! I shall saunter down the aisle not in a dress, oh no! Everypony will be expecting finery, craning their necks for that moment the doors open and I trot forth and I can see the looks on their faces now as I walk in completely unclothed!
Oh, that will be perfect. My beloved cares not for frippery such as dresses, I know that. But laughter? I suspect she will be unable to keep a straight face while the pompous nobility get ever puffier when the bride breaks every tradition and dares wed so wonderful a mare as my darling while herself in the buff!
I wonder how long it will take her to laugh?
Or maybe her sister will beat her to it. It shall be chaos either way, and many shall not appreciate my newest dress, but I know the one that truly matters will love my little surprise.
Adieu, my dearest mannequin. As always, you get to be the first to wear my newest creation, and I hope you enjoy the not-Princess’s new clothes for a few hours more!
I bid a final fond farewell to the moon, for tomorrow, I go to dream with the sun.
This was certainly an impressive fic to read! Your vocabulary usage and tone perfectly fits the internal monologue of Rarity, and I can absolutely relate to her frustrations over artists block. Far too often, we are our own worst critics. Hell, I think I even felt much the same as Rarity when writing my own fic for this competition!
There is not much to criticize in terms of the plot or character structure itself, but more so in the usage of repetition. It does work sometimes to hammer in how frustrated Rarity feels, but it also comes across as padding. For example:
"A wedding gown to outshine all wedding gowns, the bride to be resplendent and radiant and every other wonderful word in the book and bare, bare, bare nudity is all I have, a blank mannequin and paper and reams of fabric waiting for me and I, I alone am failing them all."
There wasn't really a need to repeat the word "Bare" three times, as simply italics on one word could have done the same job. Plus there are several occasions like this where Rarity's dialogue is reaffirming what we already know. Overall, this has been a fantastic fic, and something I think many other artists, writers etc, can see within themselves. A+.
There is not much to criticize in terms of the plot or character structure itself, but more so in the usage of repetition. It does work sometimes to hammer in how frustrated Rarity feels, but it also comes across as padding. For example:
"A wedding gown to outshine all wedding gowns, the bride to be resplendent and radiant and every other wonderful word in the book and bare, bare, bare nudity is all I have, a blank mannequin and paper and reams of fabric waiting for me and I, I alone am failing them all."
There wasn't really a need to repeat the word "Bare" three times, as simply italics on one word could have done the same job. Plus there are several occasions like this where Rarity's dialogue is reaffirming what we already know. Overall, this has been a fantastic fic, and something I think many other artists, writers etc, can see within themselves. A+.
Who amongst us hasn't wished for something horrible to happen so that it would prevent us from complying with social obligations? "I can't go to work today, boss, the streets are flooded. Good luck with the meeting today." "I'm sorry, honey. I can't go meet your parents tonight, a tornado took away my car." "Hey, I know my entry lacked polish, but cut me some slack, I was fighting my way out of a zombie-infested building."
Ramblings aside, this was an enjoyable ride through Rarity's pre-wedding jitters. You did a good job at conveying her insecurities and worries, but I'll echo >>The Power Wolf's comment about needless repetition. Well used italics and proper word usage--which you have in spades--can convey the same intensity in a way that feels more engaging than just repeating words.
Still, I found myself smiling as I read. Nicely done.
Ramblings aside, this was an enjoyable ride through Rarity's pre-wedding jitters. You did a good job at conveying her insecurities and worries, but I'll echo >>The Power Wolf's comment about needless repetition. Well used italics and proper word usage--which you have in spades--can convey the same intensity in a way that feels more engaging than just repeating words.
Still, I found myself smiling as I read. Nicely done.
My impression for most of it was, "oh it's the 'I can't think of what to write' cliche, but with a twist. How neat," and then it turns out there's an actual ending and a plot and some self reflection! Pleasantly surprised.
Good use of the first person to keep things engaging and the emotional pacing up. The slow, yet frantic, reveal of information worked extraordinarily well, I think.
Good use of the first person to keep things engaging and the emotional pacing up. The slow, yet frantic, reveal of information worked extraordinarily well, I think.
I love the idea. There are a few problems with the execution, and this is mostly because you chose a method of storytelling with a high degree of difficulty: first-pony extremely dramatic stream of consciousness. That's not easy to pull off without seeming incredibly telly or cartoonish in the process.
The first problem is that Rarity's stream of consciousness rambles in too many directions too abruptly, and lingers on certain topics well past the point of novelty. This is a rare case where fewer horse words would help. I think you should trim down, try to make points more briefly, and organize the stream of consciousness into a more orderly progression of topics, if possible. I'd also tone down the dramatics just a little bit. Even for Rarity on her wedding day this is a little over the top.
I saw the twist coming but I was grateful for it, because I'd hoped that's where you were headed. However, the reveal is done so casually you could almost miss it while reading over it, and I think you should reveal it's a wedding dress long before you hit the twist. I think you should also mention the beloved before you hit the twist, not casually drop it afterwards. You want to build up to the climax, and currently your climax is flat and you add things afterwards that would have helped bring it to a fever pitch.
This could be a great work with a little more organization. I hope you see it through!
The first problem is that Rarity's stream of consciousness rambles in too many directions too abruptly, and lingers on certain topics well past the point of novelty. This is a rare case where fewer horse words would help. I think you should trim down, try to make points more briefly, and organize the stream of consciousness into a more orderly progression of topics, if possible. I'd also tone down the dramatics just a little bit. Even for Rarity on her wedding day this is a little over the top.
I saw the twist coming but I was grateful for it, because I'd hoped that's where you were headed. However, the reveal is done so casually you could almost miss it while reading over it, and I think you should reveal it's a wedding dress long before you hit the twist. I think you should also mention the beloved before you hit the twist, not casually drop it afterwards. You want to build up to the climax, and currently your climax is flat and you add things afterwards that would have helped bring it to a fever pitch.
This could be a great work with a little more organization. I hope you see it through!
I really like how the reveal was done, with the little pronoun slips and the blink-and-you-miss-it explanation at the end. Everything about it and the voicing is so perfectly Rarity, so really big kudos for that.
The thing is, outside of the central twist, I have to be honest and say that I found it pretty hard to stay consistently engaged throughout. It's just that there isn't all that much going on, here. From a purely plot-based perspective, we begin with a central conflict/problem, and then most of the story is the main character thinking about this problem until she decides in the end that it doesn't matter. If it weren't for the twist, I'd call this story anticlimactic. And if it weren't for the strength in Rarity's voicing, I might even call it meandering.
I think this piece could really use some kind of concrete plot thread running through it to hold the reader's attention a little better. In my opinion, it's a bit too easy to start to tune out big chunks of this story because it comes across as rambly monologue. Which is a shame, because I only really started noticing a lot of the little characterization touches on my second and third read-throughs. Give us something to latch on to, and the piece will feel more focused.
The thing is, outside of the central twist, I have to be honest and say that I found it pretty hard to stay consistently engaged throughout. It's just that there isn't all that much going on, here. From a purely plot-based perspective, we begin with a central conflict/problem, and then most of the story is the main character thinking about this problem until she decides in the end that it doesn't matter. If it weren't for the twist, I'd call this story anticlimactic. And if it weren't for the strength in Rarity's voicing, I might even call it meandering.
I think this piece could really use some kind of concrete plot thread running through it to hold the reader's attention a little better. In my opinion, it's a bit too easy to start to tune out big chunks of this story because it comes across as rambly monologue. Which is a shame, because I only really started noticing a lot of the little characterization touches on my second and third read-throughs. Give us something to latch on to, and the piece will feel more focused.
Blah, blah, audio, etc, Amarynceus has some cute art yeah?
https://drive.google.com/open?id=12bK4qqNOS4zhgNT22No0UfhngkHjZzq-
https://drive.google.com/open?id=12bK4qqNOS4zhgNT22No0UfhngkHjZzq-
This was a story that felt far too infatuated with itself.
You tried to make a meal entirely of spices. Seasoning's good, but there's a reason it's meant to be an accent rather than a portion. There's more words here than ideas to sustain them, and worse, not enough reason behind them being written.
A sentence needs more intent behind it than the elegance of the sentence's own sake, and there are long stretches where it seems the intention was just to show off the author's ability to write pretty prose, without conveying anything meaningful with that prose.
You tried to make a meal entirely of spices. Seasoning's good, but there's a reason it's meant to be an accent rather than a portion. There's more words here than ideas to sustain them, and worse, not enough reason behind them being written.
A sentence needs more intent behind it than the elegance of the sentence's own sake, and there are long stretches where it seems the intention was just to show off the author's ability to write pretty prose, without conveying anything meaningful with that prose.
>>MrNumbers
I'm going to +1 Mr. Number's comment, with some footnotes. I do think it should be emphasized that the spices on display here are of a most excellent quality. The prose is engaging, the narrator voice is colorful, and the ending is clever. But, as said, there simply isn't enough substance here to carry the day.
I'm going to +1 Mr. Number's comment, with some footnotes. I do think it should be emphasized that the spices on display here are of a most excellent quality. The prose is engaging, the narrator voice is colorful, and the ending is clever. But, as said, there simply isn't enough substance here to carry the day.
Disembodied voice for the first paragraph. I think it's Celestia, but... the voice is very off to me, especially the "if I do say so myself!" line. Sounds more like Applejack doing a bizarre mockery of Rarity (if she spoke like Blueblood.)
Oh, it is Rarity... hmm... okay, the voice is still. Okay, yeah, now I'm going back and rereading it all with Rarity's voice in my head and it works a bit better. Still sounds a bit off to me, because these are thoughts, not spoken words, but it's closer. This DEFINITELY needs to be shown as Rarity earlier, as it totally threw me into the wrong sound to start with.
Okay, a bit further through now, and... yikes is this some dense purple prose here. Yes, Rarity is rather fond of it in canon herself, but... again, that's spoken. This is so dense to feel like I'm drowning in overly-ornate turns of phrase.
Rarity vs. Giant Grab references seem to go completely against the rest of the tone.
I found myself starting to rush through the rest, as this story really was dragging for me in pacing. The stream of conciousness goes on far too long to show the cliche we've seen even in canon too many times... a frazzled Rarity rushing to complete a dress. We get it, and the story needs to get there faster.
Okay, the ending... despite coming far too late, is a cute twist. Rarity's idea is clever and amusing, so points for that.
Overall, I think there's a great little idea here. The key word is little though. All the fun bit is in the last half a page. The entire rest of the story sets up only that Rarity is making a (wedding) dress, and that she is (predictably) frazzled about getting it right. That needs to be way shorter.
Secondly, the stream-of-conciousness is a mixed bag for me. On the one hand, it probably is the right choice for the payoff at the end, but... as it reads now, the prose is far too dense and purple to be enjoyable, especially as it's revealing almost nothing new the entire time. There are a few bits here and there which sound exactly like Rarity, but then so much more that sounds like what someone trying to imitate her from only a few sound bites might do. Does that make sense? Let me try again: Rarity, in the show, has plenty of moments where she speaks with all the flourishes of fancy prose she can. But a good majority of her dialog is actually pretty normal sounding. This story forgets to switch it up, and so it comes across as over-the-top the entire time, and that just doesn't work at 2,000+ words.
Still though, I really do love both the idea and the reveal (the paragraph with the mirror is a fantastic way to do that) in this, so really hope the author can rework this and punch it up. I think it could fit just perfectly around the 1,000 word limit for FIMFic.
Oh, it is Rarity... hmm... okay, the voice is still. Okay, yeah, now I'm going back and rereading it all with Rarity's voice in my head and it works a bit better. Still sounds a bit off to me, because these are thoughts, not spoken words, but it's closer. This DEFINITELY needs to be shown as Rarity earlier, as it totally threw me into the wrong sound to start with.
Okay, a bit further through now, and... yikes is this some dense purple prose here. Yes, Rarity is rather fond of it in canon herself, but... again, that's spoken. This is so dense to feel like I'm drowning in overly-ornate turns of phrase.
Rarity vs. Giant Grab references seem to go completely against the rest of the tone.
I found myself starting to rush through the rest, as this story really was dragging for me in pacing. The stream of conciousness goes on far too long to show the cliche we've seen even in canon too many times... a frazzled Rarity rushing to complete a dress. We get it, and the story needs to get there faster.
Okay, the ending... despite coming far too late, is a cute twist. Rarity's idea is clever and amusing, so points for that.
Overall, I think there's a great little idea here. The key word is little though. All the fun bit is in the last half a page. The entire rest of the story sets up only that Rarity is making a (wedding) dress, and that she is (predictably) frazzled about getting it right. That needs to be way shorter.
Secondly, the stream-of-conciousness is a mixed bag for me. On the one hand, it probably is the right choice for the payoff at the end, but... as it reads now, the prose is far too dense and purple to be enjoyable, especially as it's revealing almost nothing new the entire time. There are a few bits here and there which sound exactly like Rarity, but then so much more that sounds like what someone trying to imitate her from only a few sound bites might do. Does that make sense? Let me try again: Rarity, in the show, has plenty of moments where she speaks with all the flourishes of fancy prose she can. But a good majority of her dialog is actually pretty normal sounding. This story forgets to switch it up, and so it comes across as over-the-top the entire time, and that just doesn't work at 2,000+ words.
Still though, I really do love both the idea and the reveal (the paragraph with the mirror is a fantastic way to do that) in this, so really hope the author can rework this and punch it up. I think it could fit just perfectly around the 1,000 word limit for FIMFic.
Stressed Rarity is a bit of a cliche at this point - it's been a central plot element in several show episodes starting all the way back in season 1, so we're well familiar with this. Not saying it should be wholly avoided (for instance, it could certainly be part of a larger story that also does other things), but it's not a novelty or bringing anything new to the table by itself.
I felt some tonal conflict with the veiled 'Rarity battles giant crab' meme references. This story addresses a serious dilemma for Rarity in a mostly serious manner, then invokes that bit of absurdity without a lot of apparent rhyme or reason to its presence. It's fun, but just doesn't mix well enough with the rest of the material, for me.
The language is... well, I have two thoughts. One is that it's immediately identifiable as Rarity. But the other is that the prose is a little too purple for her. Yes, she's fancy, but she's not usually this ostentatious. The essential wit is there, but she strikes me as usually somewhat more direct and less flowery than this. Her use of linguistic flourish tends to be more for accentuation than an 'always on' thing. It also tends to go out the window sometimes when she's stressed, unless she's using it as an element of an expressive performance of just how stressed she is and trying to get across a sense of, 'Oh, woe is me, whatever shall I do?' which doesn't quite ring true here because this is internal dialogue, not a show being put on for somepony else.
That aside, I think this piece characterizes Rarity well, both in her dramatic neurosis about getting the job right and in her finally settling on a solution by employing some clever lateral thinking - whatever else she may also be, Rarity is quite a smart horse, which I feel she sometimes doesn't get enough credit for, so good work on that.
I felt some tonal conflict with the veiled 'Rarity battles giant crab' meme references. This story addresses a serious dilemma for Rarity in a mostly serious manner, then invokes that bit of absurdity without a lot of apparent rhyme or reason to its presence. It's fun, but just doesn't mix well enough with the rest of the material, for me.
The language is... well, I have two thoughts. One is that it's immediately identifiable as Rarity. But the other is that the prose is a little too purple for her. Yes, she's fancy, but she's not usually this ostentatious. The essential wit is there, but she strikes me as usually somewhat more direct and less flowery than this. Her use of linguistic flourish tends to be more for accentuation than an 'always on' thing. It also tends to go out the window sometimes when she's stressed, unless she's using it as an element of an expressive performance of just how stressed she is and trying to get across a sense of, 'Oh, woe is me, whatever shall I do?' which doesn't quite ring true here because this is internal dialogue, not a show being put on for somepony else.
That aside, I think this piece characterizes Rarity well, both in her dramatic neurosis about getting the job right and in her finally settling on a solution by employing some clever lateral thinking - whatever else she may also be, Rarity is quite a smart horse, which I feel she sometimes doesn't get enough credit for, so good work on that.
So, this did significantly better than what I was expecting. I mean, I had this idea I wanted to do, yes? Except it was Sunday night and I still hadn't figured out an angle, so I said fuckit, I'll sit down and write about having no ideas.
But doing it directly was feeling meh, and then suddenly, hey, let's do it was Rarity and of course dresses and basically just come up with every way I can complain via her about having no ideas until it's 2,000 words in!
Which is why it is florid and purple and goes nowhere through the bulk of it, because I was literally writing just to write and did not care that it was probably bad. The goal was always 'Do SOMETHING' because hey, no improvement without practice/effort.
And then near the end I hit on 'Wait, what if it's her own wedding?' because originally the client was some snooty Canterlot pony and the dress was just a dress, but a ton of my friends are Rarilestia trash of late and the concept Rarity was getting married suddenly leapt to mind. This was also because around 1400 or 1500 words I was completely dry on ways to kvetch until I hit the wedding angle and it gave me fresh life to go through the end.
And thus, well, this. It's totally florid and purple and likely either overlong or simply heavily unpolished because it was pure stream of consciousness of 'Write, write, write, what nah, IDEA, write, write, done, submit!'
Hence no foreshadowing early on, overly purple, and so forth. And yet apparently some people loved it which is great!
>>The Power Wolf
>>Zaid Val'Roa
>>Rao
Glad you liked it, and double props to Rao because that's exactly what it was.
>>Trick_Question
I didn't reveal long before the twist because until the near-end, because during most of it there was no planned twist! And that's also why it's somewhat overly florid, it's completely unedited and in need of a ruthless polishing which I probably will not do, knowing me and it will languish with my other unedited stories, ah well!
>>Bachiavellian
This one produces a question - what plot-thread? I mean the dilemma is 'I dont know what to do', and then it's just being along for the ride, really. I can think of a bit of extra whimsy or two, but mostly the core won't change.
>>AndrewRogue
Pff, this is the fault of Carapace/Mono getting Silfoe & Amar addicted to it. Mostly Silfoe though since she's a friend.
>>MrNumbers
>>GaPJaxie
There was no substance through most of the writing so yea, it was all spices. Totally guilty on that one! If I pursue it further I'll have the advantage of central conflict going through it all and have some ideas like it being 'The Last Dress' she's stuck on (Because of course she made the Bridesmaid's Dresses and Celestia has her own (Because bride can't see pre-wedding day and Rarity IS the bride), and is stuck on her own and then the eventual reveal that that's why she's having so much trouble or something.
But that's all contingent on going back. But yes, the criticism is pretty much totally on point and I knew that going in.
>>Xepher
>>Winston
It's a bit tonal breaking, but I am a sucker for that silly meme. And at the time (And Xepher picked up on this) the goal was length and the idea produced extra paragraphs I needed then!
So yea, thanks everyone! Feedback is apt, and I will totally cop to 'Story was a rush job of 'write just to write'' so this is the totally unvarnished first draft that is definitely flawed and having said flaws so poignantly pointed to be benficial. Arrr. Them crabs is fearsome foes.
But doing it directly was feeling meh, and then suddenly, hey, let's do it was Rarity and of course dresses and basically just come up with every way I can complain via her about having no ideas until it's 2,000 words in!
Which is why it is florid and purple and goes nowhere through the bulk of it, because I was literally writing just to write and did not care that it was probably bad. The goal was always 'Do SOMETHING' because hey, no improvement without practice/effort.
And then near the end I hit on 'Wait, what if it's her own wedding?' because originally the client was some snooty Canterlot pony and the dress was just a dress, but a ton of my friends are Rarilestia trash of late and the concept Rarity was getting married suddenly leapt to mind. This was also because around 1400 or 1500 words I was completely dry on ways to kvetch until I hit the wedding angle and it gave me fresh life to go through the end.
And thus, well, this. It's totally florid and purple and likely either overlong or simply heavily unpolished because it was pure stream of consciousness of 'Write, write, write, what nah, IDEA, write, write, done, submit!'
Hence no foreshadowing early on, overly purple, and so forth. And yet apparently some people loved it which is great!
>>The Power Wolf
>>Zaid Val'Roa
>>Rao
Glad you liked it, and double props to Rao because that's exactly what it was.
>>Trick_Question
I didn't reveal long before the twist because until the near-end, because during most of it there was no planned twist! And that's also why it's somewhat overly florid, it's completely unedited and in need of a ruthless polishing which I probably will not do, knowing me and it will languish with my other unedited stories, ah well!
>>Bachiavellian
This one produces a question - what plot-thread? I mean the dilemma is 'I dont know what to do', and then it's just being along for the ride, really. I can think of a bit of extra whimsy or two, but mostly the core won't change.
>>AndrewRogue
Pff, this is the fault of Carapace/Mono getting Silfoe & Amar addicted to it. Mostly Silfoe though since she's a friend.
>>MrNumbers
>>GaPJaxie
There was no substance through most of the writing so yea, it was all spices. Totally guilty on that one! If I pursue it further I'll have the advantage of central conflict going through it all and have some ideas like it being 'The Last Dress' she's stuck on (Because of course she made the Bridesmaid's Dresses and Celestia has her own (Because bride can't see pre-wedding day and Rarity IS the bride), and is stuck on her own and then the eventual reveal that that's why she's having so much trouble or something.
But that's all contingent on going back. But yes, the criticism is pretty much totally on point and I knew that going in.
>>Xepher
>>Winston
It's a bit tonal breaking, but I am a sucker for that silly meme. And at the time (And Xepher picked up on this) the goal was length and the idea produced extra paragraphs I needed then!
So yea, thanks everyone! Feedback is apt, and I will totally cop to 'Story was a rush job of 'write just to write'' so this is the totally unvarnished first draft that is definitely flawed and having said flaws so poignantly pointed to be benficial. Arrr. Them crabs is fearsome foes.
>>Morning Sun
Well, I'm just gonna spitball wildly, right now. If this were my story, I think I'd have another character in the room for Rarity to bounce her thoughts off of. Someone who might be annoyed and/or worried that Rarity is working herself so hard on the night before her wedding.
But of course, I totally get that you want to leave the focus on Rarity. Personally, I think this is playing on hard mode, but go for it! I'd be interested to see what a spruced-up version looks like!
Well, I'm just gonna spitball wildly, right now. If this were my story, I think I'd have another character in the room for Rarity to bounce her thoughts off of. Someone who might be annoyed and/or worried that Rarity is working herself so hard on the night before her wedding.
But of course, I totally get that you want to leave the focus on Rarity. Personally, I think this is playing on hard mode, but go for it! I'd be interested to see what a spruced-up version looks like!