Official Description:
Obsessed but unnoticed for over a year, she puts a plan in motion to catch the eye of corner-office Cullen. That’s her plan. Fate has another plan entirely. B/E Rated M for a reason. Most chapters are short – it won’t feel like 73
Word Count: 47,254
When Kassiah asked me to review The Plan, I literally squealed. I was so enthralled and excited by this story that it was about all I could manage to talk about for days. Not just in the fandom but in real life, too. It dictated my schedule, made me break my promise to my family that I would stay off the Internet during the holidays, and caused me to reach for my BlackBerry first thing in the morning on Christmas Day without even turning on the light next to my bed.
Most of the people I spoke with were caught in the crosshairs too, checking in across continents to see if one or another had read the most recent posting, analyzing what this or that piece of information might mean. QuantumFizzx had the whole fandom buzzing.
Early on I thought, “Form ever follows function,” which is a design idea that “the shape of an object should be primarily based upon its intended function or purpose.” And make no doubt about it this story is all about intent. But as time has passed, what has remained with me is not the gimmick, but the power of the story. In spite of, or maybe because of, the limitations of the form QuantumFizzx imposed on herself, she drew an incredibly smart, swoon worthy tale of passion, desire and the importance of being true to oneself.
As far as intelligent, snarky and lovely Bellas go, this is one of the finest. Her focus, her preparation, and her management of the intimidating Mr. Cullen makes for incredibly satisfying reading. And in addition to keeping Mr. Cullen on track and on time with an endless supply or reference materials, pressed suits and pineapple juice, Bella also manages to help readers keep pace with the demands of the story.
There is no time or room for long explanation or dithering. The reader is thrown into the scene instantly. For instance, a bit of craftiness at of the top of each chapter immediately sets the stage:
Seat: C12.
Hand: C11.
Loon: Grinning like one.
In fact, QuantumFizzx does everything with an economy of scale. He clever and precise language brings every character and scene to life, and though Bella narrates the story, Edward comes blazing off the page. In one instance, the single word “probably” changes the game completely, and in a room full of empty Coke cans and wadded up printer paper, the reader becomes unclear who is the manipulator and who is the manipulated in this wonderful game of cat and mouse.
So. If you haven’t read it, and you want the real-time experience, you can set your clocks and read each chapter at the time that QuantumFizzx has obligingly marked at the head of each posting. Or, you can simply read the story and be thrilled, as I was, at the incredible humor, intelligence and sensuality of The Plan, and cheer for the author, who with freedom and love, crafted this beautifully told tale.
Ah, The Plan. Most of you know that I don’t have an iPhone or any way to read on my cell. And because hubs won’t let me get an iPhone, I refuse to touch them. I won’t even look. But when I had to go to my aunt’s for Christmas and was faced with not being able to read The Plan’s updates, I gave in. I literally begged her to let me read it on her phone. Yeah, I’m a dork. Don’t judge me.
I have to say that a major part of the appeal of The Plan for me was the updates in real time. No matter what, you gotta give the girl props for that. Apart from that, I still love the story. I love the plot, and though there were times that I wanted to slap both Edward and Bella, I really think that my feelings were intensified because of the whole way the story was presented. QuantumFizzx was utter genius, and I predict that there will be many more stories posted in real-time in the future.
I could pick out so many parts of this story to show you why I love it. I’ll settle for this, the first time they actually speak:
“Tell me.” He continues to look out the wall of windows. His arms are crossed and long fingers drum his sleeve.
I wait for a moment. I wait for him to clarify. His jacket is draped over his riveted leather desk chair. His pants are light gray and I force myself not to focus on any portion of them. The slope of his broad shoulders is also not a safe focal point. Light from the window catches golden strands in his hair; that’s off-limits, too. I don’t know where to look.
I become acutely aware of the silence.
“Pardon me?” I really feel at a loss, as if I’ve walked into a conversation midstream.
He huffs and continues to stare out the window. “Tell me everything. The who, what, when, where, why, how. Who you are. What you think this job entails. When you think your work day ends. Why you took this position. How long you think you’ll last.”
My throat is a desert. I’ve already exhausted his patience. It never occurred to me he’d ask me anything about me. I’m an expert at him, not myself.
I launch into a dissertation on my education and credentials. Masters in English. Intern and job experience. Scholarships. I omit any mention of my current law school scholarship or enrollment. I doubt he’d be receptive to divided priorities. I make sure all this takes no longer than thirty seconds. I skip right over anything that relates to why I think I can do this job – I don’t think I can pull off confidence.
“The job expectation is that I make you available to perform your job at optimum level. I need to learn and anticipate your needs in order to ensure this. Any distraction or delay has a negative impact.
“My work day began when I walked into this room and it will end when I leave your employ.” I keep talking, but I notice a shift in his demeanor. His fingers still. A few moments later, he moves to his desk chair. I know I’m in. Maybe I’ve even impressed him.
Words continue to spill from my mouth. I explain that I’ve been here for a year. I’m flexible and a good observer. Performance stats.
“Finally, Mr. Cullen, I understand that there is a critical contract on the line and there is no time to prep a new employee. I bring to the table a solid understanding of this company and am committed to its success.”
My speech has taken under two minutes. Brevity. I feel good about it. My face is hot, but I’m still breathing. The win column gets a tick.
“Ms. Swan, I’ve no illusions about my reputation. That being said, I am fair. I neither expect miracles nor do I tolerate mistakes.” He leans back in his chair and levels his gaze at me. His eyes are a grey-green. If he ever blinks, I miss it. I’m caught in their pull.
“It’s my understanding that there is a CYA file on me. Read it.”
My eyes are probably bugging out. He knows about the file?
He misinterprets my surprise for bewilderment and explains further. “Cover Your Ass. A cheat-sheet,” he seethes. He thinks I’m playing dumb.
“The COYA file?” The words are out before I can think better of it.
One corner of his mouth turns up. It might be a burgeoning smile. It might be irritation.
He gives me a look that tells me he wants an explanation. I want to show him I get non-verbal communication. I want to show him I am honest. I want to show him my matching bra and panty set. I sure as Hell don’t want to tell him what COYA stands for.
There’s no escape.
“Cullen Owns Your Ass.”
I really love Twanza’s suggestion that you read in real time. But I am pretty much willing to bet that you won’t be able to hold out. However you decide to read it, don’t miss out on The Plan.
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