#writingsnippet

Here's a little taste of the daring and magic that is Echoes of the Enchanted Sea. Niamh is everything I hoped she would be – fierce, clever, and absolutely unafraid to challenge the norm. This moment captures her spirit perfectly!

"Niamh’s mind was sharp and her movements calculated. With a quick sidestep and a feint, she tricked her foe into overreaching his swing. As he stumbled forward, off-balance, Niamh seized the moment. With a deft twist of her wrist, she sent his sword skittering across the deck."

TAURIAAAA!!!! HI!!!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely?

ooh probably rooftops and bookshops. I really really really dislike the prose in it now that I've found more of a voice and I think the difference between that fic and my more recent stuff is so so blatant, but I do stand firmly by all of the plot points in that fic. That said, I'm not allowed to touch it because if I start I'll never stop, and I'd rather write new stuff than tweak the same old thing forever.

10. Top three favourite fic tropes.

Enemies to lovers, fake dating, amnesia!

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

Bart’s halfway through peeling the first clementine, the sharp citrusy smell permeating the air over the odor of burnt rubber from the trash, when he looks up. His thumb digs in a little too hard, breaking through the rind and into the fruit, a few drops of the juice splattering up his wrist. Kon looks at him from the entryway, almost surprised to see him there.  Bart stares back. He's still angry from yesterday, and he doesn’t feel like pretending he isn’t.  It must be obvious on his face, because Kon's surprised expression melts into more of a resigned irritation, and he strides past Bart, taking the half-peeled clementine out of his hands.  “Why does it smell like that time Tim accidentally put a cutting board in the oven?” Kon asks as he grabs a mug from the cabinet, his voice gruff with sleep. Bart starts peeling a new clementine, and he’s done by the time Kon’s pouring his coffee. He starts another.  “Fucked up my sneakers yesterday. Had to throw ‘em out.”  “I thought you had that friction barrier thing or whatever,” Kon says. The way he phrases it like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about grates at him. Why can’t Kon just admit that he gives a shit? Bart shrugs instead of answering, glaring at the peeled fruit.  He separates out the segments of the ones he peeled, pulling off those stringy white bits as he goes. His leg is tapping so fast against the chair, the noise it makes sounds vaguely like the blades of a helicopter.  Kon sighs and sits down next to him, leaning his head on Bart’s shoulder. He puts the clementine he was holding down on the counter in front of them and Bart picks it up. As he’s about to start peeling it, Kon takes it out of his hands and puts it back where it was. When Bart picks up another one, Kon takes that too, putting it down next to the other one like he wants Bart’s full attention. A tight, annoyed noise works its way out of Bart’s throat, and Kon’s TTK worms around him, feeling like an arm around his shoulder even though both of Kon’s hands are on his mug. “I’m not sorry,” Kon says, his hands tightening around the mug. “Me neither,” Bart answers, still glaring at the fruit.

31. What was the most difficult fic for you to write (but in the end you made it)?

Definitely Rooftops & Bookshops, but only because of the "in the end you made it." Otherwise, I'd say Know Yourself, because I am struggling with that fic SO much right now. I'm struggling with writing in general right now but that fic specifically is giving me a very hard time. I do have faith that I will make it though, especially since it's all plotted out! I just have to. You know. Finish it.

Warning: Pretty dark thinking, mental conflicts, a bit of depression dripped in.

This isn’t exactly something I write for myself. It’s mainly out of the frustration of a lot of things, especially at how little people have treated content creators or the like, how degrading they believe the creators are without knowing the struggles they faced in completing what they drew, written or created.

So I guess this is my way to send a small message to any content creator that struggles with self-worth or facing self-doubt.

I’m not sure if it will brighten up your day or darken it. I’m more focused on the fact any content creator who loves their creation or work as much as a parent to a child deserves more love than the world can offer.

Thank you for taking the time to check this out. Feel free to share or reblog this to anyone you know to be a loving content creator.

Prologue:

Remi

It's the end of her relationship with Mitch. She's packing her bags and heading to work with Velocity Racing. Mitch tries to maintain control, insisting she isn't allowed to leave. Rory and Liam watch from the stairs as their mom walks away from Mitch, who's been narcissistic and controlling for ten years.

Ten years of the same cycle, day after day. Taking care of my beautiful boys while battling life with Mitch, who acts as if he owns me. Finally, one day, I decided enough was enough. I needed to prioritize myself. I applied for a job in Public Relations at Velocity Racing. When the offer came through quickly, I took it as a sign.

One warm July morning, I'm packing my bags for Silverstone when Mitch walks in. "Where the fuck are you going?" he yells. I roll my eyes and ignore him, finishing up the last of my things. I grab a folder with my contract and weekend schedule. Mitch snatches it from my hands.

"Seriously, Mitch, fuck off," I say, reaching for it back.

"Velocity Racing? What is this, Remi?" he spits out.

"I'm leaving, Mitch. I have a job now, and I'll find a new home for the boys and me," I say, tossing divorce papers at him.

"Bahaha, you think you can work in Formula One? You can barely manage a household without getting overwhelmed. You'll be begging me to come back in a month to fix this fucking mess," he says in that stern voice of his.

I grab my purse. "Well, I'm not asking for permission, Mitch. I'm telling you I'm done. And this"—I gesture between us—"frankly is so fucking done." I push past him toward the stairs.

Liam and Rory stand at their bedroom doors, wide-eyed. I lean down to their level. "Mommy's going to work for a few weeks, okay? I'll be back," I say, pulling both into my arms.

Liam looks at me. "Mommy, be safe," he says.

"Always, Lee. Always," I say, kissing his cheek.

Rory looks confused. "Mommy will be back. Be good for daddy, okay, Rors?"

Rory nods.

I head toward the bottom of the stairs as Mitch blocks my path. "You aren't allowed to leave, Remi," he says, his hand tightening on the banister. The mask of the "perfect husband" finally slips. "I literally provide everything. You're a mother, Remi. Start acting like one."

I push past him and zip up my bag—the sound echoes through the entryway. I look up at Rory and Liam on the stairs, then back at the man who spent ten years trying to dim my light. "I am acting like one," I whisper. "I'm showing them how to leave when you're not being treated right."

I open the door and close it behind me as I walk toward the waiting car.

"Mrs. Scott?" the driver asks as I climb in.

"That's me," I smile.

The drive to the airport takes about an hour. As we drive, I watch the landscape pass by, saying goodbye to Canada and the life I once knew. I arrive at the airport and board a flight to Heathrow, London.

I couldn't resist! Here's a tiny, spoiler-free snippet from my new fanfiction, giving you a taste of the magic (and perhaps a hint of the drama!):

"They claimed I opened my eyes first. Mum dubbed me "the observant one." His words were: "She looks like she knows too much already." When they lay me beside James, he yelled, and I immediately struck him in the face with my tiny fist. Balance, I think."