The Secret Life of an Aspiring Neopian Times Writer

I’m not going to lie. I was ready for the big leagues. I wanted to be a hot shot, a big enchilada! (Magma Skeith?) Anyways, I decided I wanted to do something extraordinary. What could I do? I. Have. No. Idea.

So I shimmied down to Pet Central, moseyed down to the competition page, closed my eyes and clicked. And there it was. In all its golden, Weewoo-filled glory. The Neopian Times. A hub for talented people to share their masterpieces of nouns and verbs, an entertaining theater for letters to flow across to the beat of an Autumn Guitar.

I immediately fixed my eyes on two words: submission form. One left-mouse push and I was in. A question at the top of the page caught my eye.

“If you have always fancied yourself as a writer, why not enter an article, story or comic in The Neopian Times?”

What a stupid question! Of course I fancy myself! I’m fabulous! And yeah, why not enter? I saw no answer to that either. So without further hesitation, I began to write my first article.

---

Two hours later, my brilliant piece of art was complete. It was a wonderful article, all about being lucky on Neopets.com. How adorable is my brain?! I know, right?! Oh gosh, I’m amazing...

So with my story done, I copied and pasted it in to the handy-dandy box on the form. Then, with great excitement, I pressed ‘Submit article.’ Finally! I was well on my way to the infamous big leagues. At last.

---

The next day, a neomail from theneopetsteam was waiting for me. Yes! It’s here! “Congratulations... ” I knew it would read. So I clicked. And fainted.

Okay, not literally. But I was very surprised to read, “Your Neopian Times submission was rejected because we had too many good entries in this category this week and there was not enough room for them all.”

WHAT?! Duh you had a lot of ‘good’ entries! But mine was great! How could this be happening? How could TNT not understand the genius that was... me?

After a couple more hours of shrieking, I finally calmed down, mostly because my pets were giving me the cold shoulder for waking them up so early.

I decided to re-read over my article and re-submit. Maybe the judge’s brain was all foggy from the Swamp Gas Moehog on the New Features page. Either way, after reading it over again, I decided once again, it was brilliant. So I submitted it, knowing that this time, TNT would see how truly astounding it was.

---

Days later, I checked my inbox to find another neomail from the geniuses behind Neopets. But... what’s this? The same response? Are you kidding?!

Head pounding in confusion, I skimmed over the article, deleted one sentence, and furiously sent it back in. And time passed, and the same neomail reappeared. Repeat the process (deleted two sentences this time) and the same neomail enters. Repeat. Neomail. Repeat. Neomail. Repeat. Neoma-

WHAT ON NEOPIA IS GOING ON?!

---

Eventually, I stopped re-editing and re-sending the article. I could no longer bear to see that dreadfully repetitive email from TNT pop up in my inbox. It just hurt. So. Much.

For many years (okay, minutes), I wallowed in despair. My dream of the ‘NT Star’ avatar was gone. I would never be deserving of the ‘star’ title. A black hole maybe. But no, never a star.

Those years passed, though, and slowly, steadily, a new motivation to be a Neopian Times writer engulfed me. I gasped at the calendar (okay, clock). How could I have let all this time go by like this? I must be mad! So I darted up the stairs to my writer-cave and vowed to remain there until I had a front page story in the NT.

---

I put that line up there in between paragraphs to suggest ample time-passing. But really, after only thirty minutes in my writer-cave, all I could think about was how creepy my writer-cave was. There are no windows at all, and the Nightsteed portrait gives me nightmares.

Alas, I remained behind the door. I stared intensely at the page in front of me, waiting for the show-stopping idea that would surely come. Oh, BAM! ... Nope, I lost it. Sigh.

---

Knock! Knock! Knock! Suddenly, there was a banging on the door. I lifted my head from my slumber, I mean, writing, and went to answer it.

I waddled tiredly over to the shaking door and flung it open. An angry-looking purple Poogle stood there, looking at me expectantly. Oh hold on... This Poogle looks familiar... Oh yeah. It’s my pet. I forgot I had one of those.

“What have you been doing in there? We got home from the Neolodge yesterday and we’re starving!” she said.

We? Oh right, I have four pets. Whoops.

While I tried to remember her name, she pushed past me into my writer-cave. Her head swiveled around quickly, taking in the décor.

“Fantasy!” I shouted. She looked at me. “What?”

Yep. That’s her name.

“What in Jelly World have you been doing in here?” she demanded.

Haha, silly Poogle. Jelly World isn’t real.

“I have been writing, thank you very much. I’m going to be featured in the Neopian Times!” I told her.

“Yes,” she said bluntly. “Because that worked so well last time.”

I gasped! How hurtful! This negative energy was surely damaging the enchanting aura of my writer-cave.

So without another word, I stomped downstairs to the kitchen, ignoring stares from the Aisha, Wocky, and Gelert that sat in the hall. Who were they again? Right. My pets.

I marched directly to the fridge, swung it open, and began tossing food out. Omelettes, pizza, achyfi, and jelly flew passed me toward those four orphan Neopets. Wait. My pets.

“Satisfied?!” I spat at them. Their blank, frightened faces stared back.

With that, I stormed upstairs to my writer-cave and slammed the door, but instead of closing, it simply bounced open.

“What was that?” I heard the Gelert ask.

“Temperamental artist,” Fantasy said. “She’s a writer again.”

I rolled my eyes, and went back to the door to close it.

“If she’s trying to write a story, why is she staying in there?” my baby Wocky asked.

I froze. She was SO right. Why would I choose to write in a dim, lifeless cavern, instead of outside, in a world full on inspiration?

Darting to my desk, I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and dashed downstairs, 200m Peanut-style. I apologetically hugged all of my pets and then ran into the Neohome’s front yard. The warm summer sun coated my face and the rays energized my whole body.

Yes. This is where writing is meant to take place.

And with that, I created this masterpiece. And, since you’re looking at it, my dream came true. I am officially a Neopian Times writer.