Mary Sue and her friends

The problem with inserting yourself into a story, or writing one around yourself, is creeping Mary Sue-ism, the appearance of “a fictional character with overly idealized and hackneyed mannerisms, lacking noteworthy flaws, and primarily functioning as a wish-fulfillment fantasy for the author or reader.” According to legend — clearly I haven’t read anywhere near all of them — the entire Human-In-Equestria genre is rife with Mary Sues, Larry Schmoos, and similar unsavory types.

It also works the other way, which is why I’m currently wrestling with some way to salvage a story idea, which can be summed up — high concept, this — as “What would happen if you tried to explain My Little Dashie to Twilight Sparkle?” Not wishing to drag myself into Equestria, I figured out a reasonable expedient for getting Twilight into my own universe, albeit temporarily, but there’s still something disquieting about the whole thing. Writing it in third person won’t necessarily help, and while I have no trouble characterizing myself with noteworthy, even annoying, flaws, Mary Sue in reverse is still Mary Sue. And let’s face it, an encounter, however brief, with Twilight Sparkle qualifies as “wish fulfillment.”

So I’m not sure which way I should go with this. Maybe I should just dump the concept entirely.

Update: Obviously I stuck with the concept.

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