#teamjacobthot

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

Whew. Recently I’d been holding off writing anything for Between Who You Are for a lot of reasons: generally feeling rubbish, home life, work life, but there were times when I’d pull my shit together for five minutes and open up my drafts and just not be able to pump anything out (or even do any editing) because of the reactions I was getting. I always kind of assumed that if people didn’t like what they were reading then they would just mark it as DNF, but some were carrying on regardless and sending messages/leaving comments and reviews that went beyond constructive criticism. And I just didn’t want to subject myself to that, and it obviously stopped me from enjoying it. Then I did a few collabs with one of my best mates (Hyacinthed, who is an a m a z i n g author and editor, go check her out and give her all the love for being just about the only Leah/Quil shipper in the world) and she also offered to beta a few chapters of BWYA. She even said she'll ghost write a few chapters, which just blows my mind. That, and really kind comments from other readers has definitely helped get my mojo back.

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

Probably fics from when I was deeeeeeep in my Merlin phase about 10 years ago. I ignore them on FFn and I’ve moved them to another pseud on AO3 :’)

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Usually ‘front to back’ but I often have a side-doc running for jotting down scenes that hit me out the blue. The ‘scenes/outtakes/archive’ doc I have for BWYA is leaning slightly on the diabolical side, currently standing at around 12k. Half of that will probably never see the light of day.

4) favorite character you’ve written

L E A H M F K N C L E A R W A T E R

5) character you were most surprised to end up writing

Sam, probably. I dislike him/her in both universes but their POV makes for great angst, and the reviews/comments that result from their chapters is always entertaining when people get out the pitchforks.

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

In terms of writing style, nothing much because it’s all been a massive learning curve. But if we’re talking about within a story, probably the way I began BWYA because it gives me such a headache sometimes. I’d probably stop myself from committing to the canon timeline and would have long since finished it by now!

7) when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

Not so much embarrassed, and far from enthusiastic, but only a handful of people know. My mum knows but has no idea what any of it is about (she just calls it “your stories”, but is still super supportive) and the majority of other people who know are friends I don’t get to see too often and/or who write too.

8) favorite genre to write

Angst angst angst angst angst

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

Reading!

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?

Mostly background noise, like the telly or music. Sometimes people are around, but usually alone.

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

Actually following a plotline/structuring things and taking notes. Years back (in the Merlin phase) I used to be all over the place and would stick random scenes in that I thought were cute and fluffy, but really they were there for my own entertainment and added nothing to the story at all. Probably lost me more than a few readers along the way.

12) your weaknesses as an author

Repetition and wordiness. Often while editing I'll have to axe a few hundred words and will spend the whole process with my head in a thesaurus.

13) your strengths as an author

Oof, I’m not sure. People leave positive comments about character development, so maybe that. Also angst and pacing.

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?

Friend, I have playlists for my playlists.

15) why did you start writing?

When I was 12 or so, I had made a friend in secondary school who’d started writing and wanted to practice. We used to write together on this website called GaiaOnline, which is actually where I met one of my best mates who lives in Canada (we started a Twilight roleplay together - I was Jacob!). That was about eight years ago. We fly back and forth to see each other :’)

16) are there any characters who haunt you?

L E A H M F K N C L E A R W A T E R. In the best way. (Unless I’ve left her abandoned for too long and there’s a story niggling away at me until I can’t sleep and have to get something on paper.)

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

Stop trying to impress other people - it’ll save yourself a headache and you’ll get more done!

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

I spent months and months binge reading and re-reading everything written by Sarah J Maas which undoubtedly left its mark - and not necessarily a good one. Her repetition and one-line paragraphs drive me up the bleeding wall, but still I find myself doing it sometimes. An unconscious habit I have yet to break.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

Gdocs is my best pal. I create timelines for each fic (BWYA’s timeline is absurd) and note when in that timeline each chapter occurred, often with a few words to summarise major plot points. I don’t have too much trouble keeping track with characters because the majority of what I write at the moment is Twilight and the characters (the Pack!) have become second nature. I don’t have to reference anything too much for them.

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

Recently it’s been little spurts, but when preparing to edit/post I usually have to set aside an evening to work on it for a few hours, if not more.

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?

Delete delete delete. I know a few authors who have completely purged their old works in the name of growth/improvement but I’m not quite there yet. Most I’ve done is move stuff on AO3 to another pseud so it’s not glaringly obvious that this Arthur/Merlin shipper was beyond obsessed.

22) are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

Smut probably. Although not so much uncomfortable, but more because it’s such a slow process for me and I get super frustrated that I can never seem to make it work the way I imagine it… which is probably a waste of time because I never post it anyway. There’s not a lot of topics that make me uncomfortable (nothing that I’ve tried yet, anyway), but if there was something then I’d probably change things up to avoid dealing with it.

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

It probably can’t be called obscure, but maybe being a bit of a target for bullies when I was in school helped because it meant I was mostly always on the computer during free time, writing and writing and writing. Sob story alert. But it definitely helped and gave me a hell of a lot of time to improve.

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

I’ve pretty much devoured anything and everything I can get my hands on about indigenous peoples, especially the Quileutes. Wouldn’t call myself an expert but I’ve definitely learned a lot from what information is available about them. Also America in general -- maps, lingo, you name it. I’m not sure what people would do if I made the Pack a bit British and had them saying ‘blimey’ and ‘bloody’ all the time (because I do).

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

It’s not short but… This is from a Jacob/Leah drabble series I started which I’ve always loved. Maybe one day I’ll be able to make this one into a series: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12860435/7/The-Jacob-and-Leah-Drabbles

The Cullen mansion is boarded up, the last of their belongings and cars shipped this morning.

His own worldly possessions fit into one red toolbox and one single duffle bag, both of which once belonged to Billy. Understandably, the duffle bag is in worse shape than the toolbox; it's fraying at the seams and looking extremely sorry for itself on the passenger seat beside him whilst he waits impatiently for the convoy to roll out.

Nessie had wanted to ride along with him, and he'd instantly hated himself when he'd told her no. Leaving La Push — leaving Washington — is a pretty big fucking deal, and driving away from it . . . This feels like something he needs to do on his own.

He hadn't been able to explain it in a way that Nessie would stop asking questions, and even now she is still upset with him. Fifteen minutes ago, he'd tried to reason with her that driving alone was kind of like how she'd needed to say goodbye to every single room in the freakin' house — fourteen fucking rooms he'd had to walk through, twice — but, in spite of his imprint's otherworldly intelligence, he knows that she's still having trouble fully understanding what he had said.

(Maybe he's the stupid one. He's joining a coven of bloodsuckers, after all.)

"But we did that together," Nessie said plaintively.

Because you asked me to, had been the response he couldn't voice. But it hurts to hurt her, so he couldn't — can't say these things. He will never be able to say these things.

The only person who seemed to understand was Bella, and thankfully she'd managed to coerce Nessie into their black Mercedes instead.

(If his former best friend didn't smell like acid then he might have hugged her properly — not the now-normal one-armed hugs and fleeting kisses on her head which still make his stomach roll. Whatever. He's working on it.)

Jacob drums his fingers on the steering wheel, and finally, finally, the last of them are piling into their vehicles and that marvellous Jeep of Emmett's is roaring and—

"Wait!"

As soon as he hears that voice Jacob is leaping out of the Rabbit, as shocked as the bloodsuckers its owner has bolted past without acknowledging. Then he sees the backpack bouncing on her back, the relief in her eyes that she's not too late, and hope sparks.

Leah throws herself at him. He opens his arms to catch her without a second thought.

"I know what you have to do," she says quietly against his ear, breathless and trembling as her nails dig into his shoulders, "and I understand, Jake, I do, but — please. You don't have to do this on your own."

They were ready. Side by side in the borrowed car, they broke nearly every traffic law as they hurtled toward their destination. Their mission was of the utmost importance, and it required that they stay focused, alert, and above all, fast. The car skidded to a stop, tires squealing on the pavement, and Embry turned to Quil, hands shaking on the wheel. 

“Are you ready?” he asked, swallowing hard. 

Quil nodded, looking a little pale. “As I’ll ever be.” 

They thrust the doors open, and Embry got caught on the seatbelt as he tried to exit the vehicle, nearly falling out onto the asphalt, which caused Quil to burst out into hysterics. He hastily undid the buckle and stormed out of the car, flipping Quil the bird as he marched toward the Safeway. 

“It’s not going to be nearly as funny when the guys tear us limb from limb for coming home empty-handed,” he said when Quil caught up to him. The other boy’s leftover giggles went silent. Time to focus on the mission: dinner. 

The pack got together, rain, shine, or other, every Sunday night for dinner. Emily and Sam used to host every week, until Jared and Kim moved in together and wanted to do it occasionally. And then Paul had gotten his own place, and then Embry and Quil got their tiny apartment, and then Collin and his boyfriend, and Seth and Jacob shared a house with Leah, and everyone had scattered all over the rez. So they rotated, and tonight’s meal was up to Embry and Quil. 

Usually they were much more prepared for this, what with Quil being the culinary genius he was, and Embry limping along beside him with his high school level hospitality class. But Quil had spent all week in Arizona on Tribal Council business, and hadn’t prepared anything; and Embry pretty much relied on him to know how many calories and food groups and whatever else they all needed. Embry was mostly good at appetizers. 

They wandered through the grocery store, with Embry occasionally pointing to random ingredients and Quil waving him off. 

“No, we don’t have enough time for me to make lasagna,” he said, sighing deeply. 

Embry shrugged. “The frozen one only takes forty minutes.” 

Quil looked like he’d been slapped across the face with a white glove. “The fact that you could suggest that to me at all is rank, dude.” 

Embry held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, if we needed more time, we should have come earlier.” 

“Yeah, well, you needed a swift kick in the ass and Mortal Kombat wasn’t going to play itself.” 

“But I won most rounds,” Embry pointed out.

“Irrelevant,” Quil said, still strolling through the aisles. 

They meandered around, growing more and more panicked as the time everyone was supposed to arrive loomed closer and closer, and the frozen lasagna started looking incredibly appealing. It came to a point where Embry was putting things in the cart and Quil was removing them. They got into a shouting match in the vegetable aisle, Embry insisting that no one wanted to eat a cauliflower pizza, and Quil gathering bunches of the stuff anyway. A store employee had to come and tell them to be quiet. 

“Dude, we have to find something. They’re coming in like, an hour.” 

“I know! You don’t think I know?”

“You’ve rejected any viable option and tried to feed a bunch of hungry wolves cauliflower as an entrée.” 

“I just haven’t seen the right thing. It’ll come to me.”

Embry seriously doubted that. 

Until they came upon the seafood counter. Quil walked up to it reverently. “Embry, Embry, Embry, come here. Do you see that?” 

He was pointing at a little sign on the glass. 

Crab Legs, 2 for 1! 

“Do you know what this means?” Quil asked, his voice filled with joy. 

Embry’s brows knitted. “Bad shellfish?” 

Quil punched him in the arm, which made Embry growl and tenderly run the sore spot. 

“It means we’re having a freaking boil, dude.” 

Half an hour, forty bucks, and several missed stop signs later, Quil unlocked the door to their apartment and immediately began bustling around the kitchen, demanding that Embry bring him things from the grocery bags and directing him to make crudite that people could dip in the sauce. Embry, to his credit, just got busy doing as he was asked, instead of calling Quil a crazy Gordon Ramsey wannabe, like he wanted to. 

There was oil, lemon, thyme, parsley, paprika, cumin, allspice, cayenne, salt, onion, garlic, and dismembered shellfish everywhere. It was an absolute nightmare in the cramped kitchen, as Embry scooted behind Quil to put the toast points (his own personal addition) in the oven to toast. The crudite was all cut and lightly brushed with olive oil, and he decided to start cleaning up the mess Quil was making as he cooked. 

There was a knock on the door as he threw away the last of the shrimp shells and veins. 

“Hey, man,” Seth said, not waiting for an invite in when Embry opened the door, opting instead to head straight for the living room. “It smells great in here.” 

Jake and Leah trailed in behind him, Jake bearing the traditional two-buck chuck, and Leah with a tequila bottle. Oh, so it was going to be one of those nights. 

“What’s cooking?” she asked, setting the bottle on the table and leaning onto the kitchen counter. 

“A cajun seafood boil with crab legs, scallops, shrimp, potatoes, sausage, and corn on the cob.” Quil didn’t even look up from where he was stirring as he spoke. He took a spoon and dipped it in the sauce, coating the back of it. He took a quick taste, and then started adjusting spices. 

Jacob’s eyes raised. “How does he always make the best stuff?” he asked.

Embry thought back to their panicked run through the store, the potential cauliflower disaster, and the heavily discounted crab legs.