Julie, Julia, Amy and Jane

The last four days I have watched about ten movies. I sort of lost count, and I even stopped watching two other ones after ten or so minutes, and there was one that I wish I had turned off after ten minutes. My husband is away for two weeks, so I thought I would watch all the chick flicks, dramas and anything in between that he wouldn't be interested in while he was gone. His favorite movies are Tombstone and Sparticus. Cowboys and gladiators--I guess you can say they technically are period dramas, but not my kind, although Val Kilmer was fabulous as Doc Holiday. :0)

So in the line up tonight was Julie and Julia. I had a friend from work tell me that I really needed to see it, so I did. And I felt a little exposed. Both Julie and Julia were at pivotal life stages and each feeling a little useless and lost. They threw themselves into something they had a passion for and after a lot of struggle and pain, their dreams were realized.

It was a sweet movie, but it left me with an ache in my stomach and also left me feeling a little guilty, so I'm letting you all in on a secret. I've told no one. Until now.

I heard back from a publisher a couple of weeks ago--maybe even three weeks now. The publishers who do Pride and Prejudice fanfic. The one I was grooming my book for. I was so excited to hear back from them that I read the email first thing when I got to work. NOT a good idea.

The editor told me that my writing was "weak" along with a few other things--she absolutely hated the title. I actually felt sick to my stomach and did my best not to cry for five whole hours while at work. I somehow got through my day. I was so embarrassed and devastated that I didn't even want to tell my husband. Isn't that pitiful? He immediately knew that something was wrong. I did my best to act like everything was normal, but that darn man knows me so well. I couldn't get the words out without crying and I felt like there was a massive "L" burned into my forehead (Loser). I couldn't get the words out. After he made sure that it wasn't life threatening and that it wasn't something he had done, he told me that he would wait until I was ready to tell him.

How many movies or novels for that matter deal with this exact issue--someone in authority or with expertise squashing someone's dreams? I should have a thick skin and I should keep plugging away until someone believes in me. Or I should go back and look at what I have written and figure out how to make it better. That would be what a true heroine would do. But I'm a sensitive writer with paper thin skin, who was so pumped up and admittedly high by the literally hundreds and hundreds of reviews from everyday people who said they loved my book and wanted to read it over and over again. I just wasn't prepared for anything else. The disillusioned heroine stumbles.

I haven't looked at my book or written a word on my new one since. My real life plot is so frustratingly predictable--our heroine licks her wounds and needs to somehow believe in herself again. I'm actually embarrassed to admit that one little email did that to me. So completely infantile. Meanwhile, I keep getting reviews from complete strangers telling me that this was the best P&P fanfic they have ever read, and I don't know what to do with the information. Part of me wants to forward each and every one of them to the publisher and the other half of me wants to yell at them to stop sending me raving reviews because it just doesn't matter.

So tonight Julie and Julia each kicked my butt a little. Julia Child worked years and years on her cookbook before she found someone willing to publish it. And she kept cooking the whole time. And little Julie cooked her little heart out every night after work while blogging about it for an entire year, encountering great disappointment, kitchen disasters and even marital troubles. I've only been at this for a few months. My kitchen and marriage is still intact. I have nothing to complain about.

I thought about the one thing that got people's dander up with my book--the fact that I let Elizabeth question herself and lose some confidence after she got kicked out of Kent. I had a few people really let me know how out of character that was for our dear Lizzy. But I heartily disagreed and now I think that I will cut myself the same slack and have the same patience with myself. I just needed a little time.

All this to say, I promise to get back to my newest book this week. I will tell my husband what happened when he calls tomorrow night, and I will not yell at the reviews as they still trickle in, but I will also try to figure out just what was weak about my work. I will also email the agent that I had contact with (who was going to poke around and see if she could find anyone interested) and see if she is still interested.

Thank you Julie and Julia for plugging away, for doing what you love with all your heart and for my little butt kicking. And thank you Jane for not giving up on getting your work published two-hundred years ago when it literally was a man's world. I'm in awe of you, your wit and your elegant way of making us fall in love with your characters over and over again. I hope you all will forgive me for stumbling.

What a big liar I am!

You broke me. You sighed, you whimpered, and you apparently twitched. Here is Chapter 11 two days early...

Chapter Seven is up...

I'm rewarding all of you who have come to my blog, by posting my newest chapter here, a day before I post on the three JAFF sites.

Let me also share that I am in the home stretch.  I finally have a clear vision on just how this is going to end, and am very exited, and pretty certain that I will finish the book this month.  Knock on wood, or MacBook, whatever is closest....

So enjoy, and let me know what you think.

Warning--Angst Ahead!

Hello friends,

Sorry I could not manage to get Chapter 6 up a day earlier.  I inadvertently added two new scenes, and had to obsess over them completely before I unleashed them on you.

I would like to publish each chapter individually, but this site only lets me publish 10 pages.  So, my advice would be to scroll down to the end and then up from there.

I should warn you that you are in for a bumpy ride in Chapter 6.  It is high time a villain came and twisted his mustache, don't you think??  :0)

Don't panic.  No one dies.  Just some emotional trauma.

I hope that you enjoy it.  Let me know what you think.

Checklist... check!

Yay! I did it! I got my checklist (that we are not calling an outline) done! I have 11 major "things" that need to happen to forward my story to it's happy conclusion. My characters now have somewhere to go, and I can't wait to have them all pile in the bus and get this show on the road.

I will leave you with my first few opening paragraphs of my book, since I have nothing new to share with you. It's important to hit the ground running when you write, because the first two sentences can either turn someone off, or get them excited about turning the page. So, I literally have Elizabeth run right out of the door without a word to anyone.

See you all soon!

*

No quicker did Elizabeth open the door, then did Mrs. Bennet step forward with an exaggerated expression of great felicitation. Elizabeth, having spent all her humor trying to convince Mr. Collins that her refusal to his marriage proposal was indeed sincere, had none left for her mother. She simply stepped around the lady and strode as calmly as she could manage through the vestibule, and out the front door.

Not far behind, Mr. Collins appeared at the breakfast room door with a look of self importance, mixed with the after effects of straight vinegar. He caught a glimpse of Elizabeth’s white frock disappearing around the corner. Mrs. Bennet turned toward him hoping for clarification.

“Mr. Collins?” Mrs. Bennet asked as she tried to decipher his odd expression.

Elizabeth had not even stopped to pick up her bonnet. Her legs would not let her tarry. They moved swiftly without being instructed. They carried her further and further away from Longbourn, and that horrible ridiculous man. “Almost as soon as he entered this house…” How arrogant! How insulting! How self-serving can one man be? And how could he accuse her of being bashful? Had he not observed her for more than one second? Or did he see only what flattered his shallow mind?

Without any thought beyond driving the memory of Mr. Collins’ nearness and his breath from her mind, Elizabeth picked up her skirt and hastened into the trees. She had no destination, and no will to return anytime soon. Her mother and her ever-present nerves would be in similar spirit no matter what time she returned. Charlotte Lucas was due to come by and relive the Netherfield ball minute by minute, but Elizabeth would not regret missing the reveling. Too much had happened. This morning. Last night. Oh, last night! Elizabeth’s head was full of it, and did not get one wink of sleep. Mr. Collin’s superior timing had only added to her misery, and she was exultant to be free of everyone. Of everything--even if only for a while. She would take all day, she determined as she gauged the sky, before its vastness got lost behind the towering firs, and gave no thought whatsoever to her thin muslin or delicate slippers.

The trees provided desperately wanted shelter. Her face was flushed, and the coolness of the shaded wood was the answering remedy. Elizabeth had felt exposed out in the open; exposed to Mr. Collin’s insincere overtures, her mother’s unbridled tongue, her sisters’ wild behavior, the poorly concealed contempt emanating from Caroline’s and Louisa’s smug faces, and his inescapable eyes. Those eyes. Why she could not get Mr. Darcy’s stare out of her head even now, was beyond her comprehension.

Though she ran to escape, uncontrollable thoughts kept stride and swirled around her head. The unexpected and very intense dance with Mr. Darcy would not leave her alone. Though they sparred, he very gently held her hand. Though his face severe, there was something altogether different in his eyes, almost soft. Though she accused, the way he looked at her seemed to be communicating to her something far beyond their spoken conversation. This would not do! If ever she could disappear, she wished it would happen at that very moment.

She picked up her pace along with her gown and even dared to clear small boulders and fallen branches without any fear. This might not be acceptable behavior for a woman of almost one and twenty, but the surge of release Elizabeth felt with each stride and bound kept her from caring one straw what the trees and woodland creatures would think. She filled her lungs with the scents of moss, earthy lichen, and sharp resinous sap. The damp coolness of the ground spread quickly through her house shoes and chilled her feet, and it gave her a certain measure of boldness. If the tiny beasts were to have a forest ball this evening, she was happy to give them all the scandalous conversation they would need.

*

Struggling with inner monologue

Okay, so I was completely distracted today by a call from a dear friend who thinks that she met Mr. Right. He even kissed her before she boarded her train...heavy sigh.

So, I'm struggling whether or not I should let the readers into Darcy's head, and hence his feelings for Elizabeth. Miss Austen pretty much kept the readers twisting in the wind along with Elizabeth. I know that made things all the more potent and surprising when he proposed, but I also felt that Darcy was never truly fleshed out in the book and only regurgitated through Elizabeth's eyes. Maybe I can wait about halfway through and then let him loose, but would that be inconsistent?? Arrgh.

Well, here's a fun little scene from Chapter 2 of the still unnamed "What if?" novel. Darcy was involved in a riding accident the morning after the Netherfield ball and the sudden move to London to Keep Bingley and Jane apart did not happen.

*

“Darcy is grumpier than usual,” Mr. Bingley declared as they had tea one day. Bingley glanced over at Elizabeth and back at his tea before he continued. “He is an active man, and only being able to get as far as the garden is taking its toll on the poor fellow. He must have been a bear when you happened upon him, Miss Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth looked up from her tea. All eyes were on her. Not much had been said to her family on the subject of Elizabeth’s assistance, except to Jane. Elizabeth felt that a detailed description of her involvement would only bring unneeded speculation and gossip. If Mr. Darcy had not been so injured, it could have been a very compromising situation. So, she only spoke of her finding him and running for help.

“If you say ‘bear’ meaning unconscious and bleeding profusely—then by all means, Mr. Bingley, he was a great bear.” She smiled innocently and took another sip.

“Good heavens, Lizzy! How shocking! He was bleeding profusely? You didn’t relate that to us,” complained Mrs. Bennet, as she considered that the two who preceded the Good Samaritan most likely had excellent and sound reasons to pass on the opposite side of the road.

“You didn’t ask me anything about it, Mama,” Elizabeth noted calmly.

Lydia snorted. “No, she was too busy with our cousin, Mr. Collins, who was violently in love at the time.” Kitty and Lydia both held back laughter while Aunt Gardiner shot them looks to behave.

“I do have it in my power to tell you how upset I was when I found out you had left on foot in the rain to return to Longbourn, instead of taking shelter in my home, Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley said with sincerity, and Elizabeth felt it fully.

“Please forgive me, Mr. Bingley. You needed only to worry about Mr. Darcy, and I didn’t mind the walk one bit. I did not catch cold, I assure you.” She hesitated. “Please also convey that to Mr. Darcy for me, as I know I broke a promise to him."

“Well, you will have to convey that information yourself, Miss Elizabeth.” She looked up at him in surprise, as did the rest of the room as if he would produce the gentleman out of his trouser pocket that very moment. “I am to extend an invitation to the two eldest Miss Bennets to lunch at Netherfield tomorrow. Miss Darcy is staying with us and longs for more diverse company. May I tell her that you will attend?”

*

So, that's all. If real romance would stop happening around here, maybe I could get some work done...