A Gnawing Curiosity

The other day my little brother (also a Lenny and not a credit to the smartness of our species) accused me of stealing his favorite Usuki doll (which I did not). I laughed at him for even playing with Usuki dolls and the argument got heated. We both said mean things that we quickly took back later, but at one point during the argument he grabbed the Times out of my pocket and yelled, “Why do you even read this stupid thing?!” I think it’s needless to say that it was much more insulting to me that he called the Times stupid than it was to be screamed at. Wounded, I snatched the issue back and ran to my room.

But his comment got me thinking. Not about whether or not the Times is stupid--I think anyone reading this knows the answer to that. But about why we read it. Why do Neopians care about it? And all those people who submit their stories for the rest for us to read, why do they care about a Baby Zafara named Penelope who’s scared to death of Grarrls (Plushie Eaters by Literalluau)? Or a Green Kau called Trika who’s Illusen’s biggest fan (Cream Cookies by Nut862)? I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out. I just hoped they all cared about a Red Lenny called Leona who had a gnawing curiosity.

I took off immediately down the streets of Neopia Central into the Deep Catacombs. I figured all those artsy types would hang out in the coffee shop, close to the art gallery and the Neopian Times headquarters. I hit the nail right on the head. Maybe Lennies are more naturally smart than I give us credit for. Walking into the coffee shop, I saw that almost every head was bent over a copy of the Neopian Times, a book, or a piece of paper. There was only a small group in the corner who did not seem hard at work as they were talking quietly with crazy smiles on their faces. All the other chairs were full, so I somewhat hesitantly took a seat at their table.

At first I didn’t think they noticed. They all kept talking about cheesecake and Meepits and water and fires and things that didn’t really make sense to me. I turned my attention to the saner people in the room. Every few minutes, the bell over the door would jingle to announce the arrival of a new customer who would take a seat on the floor with a notebook and his or her coffee. The odd thing was, every time the bell jingled, the girl to my right literally began drooling at the mouth. Each time, I tried to imperceptibly scoot my chair further away. Soon I realized that a majority of the people entering the shop were coming from the Neopian Times headquarters. I imagined many of them had just dropped off a story or an article or a comic that I would be reading next week and my heartbeat quickened. I couldn’t talk to these--

“Name?” The person sitting across the table from me demanded loudly. I turned the right way in my chair to see them all staring at me. “Name?” she repeated, but not meanly.

“Leona,” I answered hesitantly. This seemed to satisfy her. “Your names?”

“Not important,” she answered and the rest shook their heads in agreement. “Unless you plan to join us?” I counted heads now. There were five of them, and I made six at the table.

“Sure… but I have to tell you, I don’t understand anything you’re saying. I really came here to talk to some Neopian Times readers and writers, not to talk about, errr, cheese graters or pie.”

“Well, you’re in the right spot!” one of them exclaimed, clapping her hand on my back. “I’d have to say that criteria covers everyone in here. Even the shopkeeper. So go talk to them!”

“Oh, no, I--I couldn’t talk to these people.” I just knew that some of them had written my favorite stories, tales that had made me laugh, cry, and even throw my Nova Lamp across the room once.

“Sure you can,” said another of the group. “But they’re not as sane as they look.” She winked. “Most of them are just as insane as we are.”

“As we,” said the girl on my left, irritated.

“What?”

“You said ‘as we are,’” she told the girl. “It’s just ‘as we.’” Suddenly the corner felt very tense.

“That sounds like some new petpet. Aswee.” They all laughed, much to my relief.

“We’ll introduce you. How’s that?” suggested the girl who kept drooling at the mouth when the bell jingled. She poked me in the wing.

“Okay,” I agreed uneasily.

“By the way,” said the girl to my left, smiling, “we know you can talk to people who’ve had their work published in the Times. You just talked to four of them.”

We walked to the nearest person. He was sitting against the wall, hunkered over a notebook in his lap. His quill was moving furiously. “Busy?” one of my new friends asked.

He jumped about a mile, looking extremely upset until his eyes rested on our group. When he saw us, he smiled a little. “I’m right in the middle of something I think will be pretty good. Of course you all would pick right now for a chat.”

“Leona here,” someone said as they all pushed me forward, “wants to talk to some Neopian Times readers and writers. We thought you fit that description pretty well, Dan.”

“Well.” He smiled at me, putting his notebook to the side. “What do you want to know?”

“I--I--”

“It’s okay,” someone whispered from behind me. “He doesn’t bite.”

“Often,” someone else added, causing them all to erupt into giggles. “Just kidding,” came the same voice. “Ask him what you want to know.”

“W--why do you read the Neopian Times?”

“That’s easy. I read the Times to see others’ writing styles and how they tell stories.”

I nodded. That made sense, that the Neopian Times would be a good way for writers to inspire and learn from each other. “How many times have you been published?”

“Thirty.”

My eyes widened. “Well then, um, why do you write for the Times?”

“I like to tell my own stories and show off my own characters. And for fun. And for the trophies.”

“Thank you.” I was in a daze. Thirty times? I had carried on a conversation with someone who had been in the Neopian Times thirty times. And more to come by the looks of his notebook that he had hastily pulled back into his lap.

“So you’re impressed with thirty, huh?” someone asked me, poking my wing. “Well, come on. I see Sia is in her usual spot.”

We came up to a young girl who was sitting by the window, apparently daydreaming out it.

“Ahem,” came the sound from various group members. She shook herself from her thoughts with a jerk of her head.

“Hi all.”

“Go ahead, ask her,” came the command from behind me.

“I’m Leona.” I thought it would be rude not to introduce myself first. “How many times have you been published in the Neopian Times?”

She glanced to the group behind me, a slight questioning look her eyes. “One hundred and thirty,” she answered, directing her attention back to me.

My eyes must have been huge. She blushed slightly. As I talked to her, I found that she also finds inspiration in the things others write in the Times. She said she writes for fun. “Mostly to escape reality, immerse myself in something else than the mundane daily life. It lifts stuff off my shoulders and I write things that sometimes can’t be said.”

After that, I departed from the group and spent hours in that coffee shop. I talked to people who had been published almost fifty times, those that had just been published ten times and were very excited, and those that hadn’t been published yet but were still trying. I talked to people like me who read the Neopian Times, but had never tried to write for it.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” asked the girl to my right when I got back to their table.

“I should hope so,” smirked another girl. “She’s been here for four hours. Can’t get enough of us.”

“I found more than what I was looking for,” I told them.

“That’s great,” the girl across from me grinned. “Well.” She checked her watch. “We’d better be getting back.”

“Wait!” All eyes were on me. “Your names?” I asked.

The girl across from me smiled and introduced the group, starting with the jingle-obsessed girl on my right and working counterclockwise around the table back toward me.

“Can I ask you some questions?” I had my pen poised.

Some interesting facts based on my discussions:

The average number of publications was 14

The popularity of categories (although all are very popular):

1st place--Short Stories

2nd place--Articles

3rd place--Series

4th place--Comics

Disclaimer: These “facts” are not representative of anything but the people I talked to. These people do not represent any population but the one that was at the Coffee Shop that night.

Most common reasons for reading the Neopian Times:

The love of reading

To be entertained

To escape to another world

To get information

To be inspired by what others have written

To keep up with friends’ stories

Most common reasons for writing for the Neopian Times:

For the love of writing

For fun

Incentive to write and improve writing

To put feelings down on paper

The trophies

The thrill of being published

Almost all the people I talked to had a combination of these reasons for reading and/or writing for the Neopian Times. I guess that just goes to show that there’s not one universal reason why we care. Reading or writing is a personal experience that we choose to share with other people. In that respect, every time we read or write a story we give a part of ourselves to someone else. Those people in the coffee shop in the Deep Catacombs realize that, that’s why they respect and support each other constantly.

You know, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before, but I just may try to write for the Times myself.

Author’s Note: Congratulations to the Neopian Times on hitting the 250 mark! Thank you to the hilarious and inspiring members of my guild and also to Nut (Nut862), Dan (Dan4884), Sia (Shadowcristal), and Hali (Haliete). Thank you to everyone who participated in answering my questions; you can be sure this article wouldn’t have been possible without you. And last, but not least, thank you to everyone who reads and/or writes--you fill the voids in any world.