fanfiction

1. Eight years ago, I hated writing because I thought I sucked at it. I would always get a “C” for a grade in English class. Becoming a novelist was the last thing on my list of future careers. Then I fell in love with Pride and Prejudice at the age of thirteen. I began writing sequels for this book. I say sequels with an “s” because each time I finished a sequel to P&P I’d start a new sequel, beginning once more from day one of their marriage. I hated the thought of Darcy and Elizabeth growing old. I wanted their love story to always remain young, raw, and passionate. And so obsessed was I with Pride&Prejudice that I would always get giddy to return home from school to work on my sequel. I would quickly finish my homework and then begin to write. When my dad came in to check up on me, to see if I was studying, I would hastily cover the story with my homework. Once he left, I’d continue writing. Writing became my guilty pleasure. Anyway, here is an excerpt of my untitled sequel, in its original state.

When Elizabeth thought that no one was around, she’d lay on the grassy field, a little away from Pemberley, and lie under a tree and look sky wards as she did that day. She looked up at the bright summer sky with her bonnet still on to shade her eyes from the sun which the tree was unsuccessful of doing and twirled a peace of leaf with her fingers.

Elizabeth heard footsteps coming towards her, she sat up, knowing that if it were anyone from the Pemberley estate they’d think she had no courtesy as a wife-to-be of master Darcy. Which all the servants were surprised at the pick and still thought that his engagement to her would be broken sooner or later.

She turned around to see Darcy, which was worse than a servant of Pemberley seeing her. She rapped her hands around her legs. She worried that Darcy would think her a savage, but to her surprise saw Darcy sit write beside her. Elizabeth stared at him in surprise that a man in his standards would sit on the grass. Furthermore, was more shocked as he lay back on the grass. He looked at her.

“May I ask why you stare at me so, Miss Elizabeth?” asked Darcy out of curiosity.

“It was just surprising to see a man like you, Mr. Darcy, of such high standard lie on the grass?” said she.

Darcy chuckled to himself. “Miss Elizabeth, I’ve noticed that you think men of ‘high standards’ are unable to have ‘any’ fun except ride horses and hunt! Of course men of my ‘standards’ do sit on the grass—lake picnic for example. Yes maybe we don’t lie on the grass, but at times like this when nobody is around to criticize them, yes, they may lie on the grass.” Replied he in teasing look.

(Hmmm I must have had some kind of fetish for men lying down on grass…) My stomach is aching from laughing so hard that I can no longer strain my eyes to type out the faint handwriting of mine. Basically, what I can gather from skimming through this very complicated, very endless story of mine, is that Elizabeth doesn’t get to marry Darcy, because they’re torn apart by the evil, scheming Anne De Burgh. And then it is discovered that Elizabeth is a spy, as is Darcy. A spy for who? For Napoleon. (I don’t know how this worked out). Oh wait, Darcy also inherits a Dukedom. As the story progresses, Elizabeth and Darcy fall even more madly in love, and more random things occur to keep them separated. Duels. Highwaymen. More scheming wenches. Love triangles. And then in the end Darcy and Elizabeth finally marry and live happily ever after. The end. And then I slip out another sheet to scribble down a NEW sequel.

2. Yesterday, my writer friend K. C. Byrne and I did a PRIDE & PREJUDICE MARATHON. The 1995 BBC adaptation. Yes, we watched the 6 hour long series straight through. But we did take a break in between to go out and buy sushi for dinner. It was great fun. While watching the series, we picked up on so many things (dialogues, expressions, actions) that we had missed before. I’m so happy to have met someone who loves Jane Austen as much as I do (though, Charlotte Bronte, I will always love you the most, even though you’ve upset me with your other book, VILLETTE).

3. Here’s a piece by Rachmaninov that sent chills down my spine. I’ve been listening to it over and over again ever since I downloaded it a few hours ago. Just as Vivaldi’s Winter was one of the pieces that inspired the mood behind THE RUNAWAY COURTESAN, I think Rachmaninov’s The Bells of Moscow will be the piece to set the mood behind my new project. Oh, and don’t even ask how my new novel is coming along. It’s still a vague, vague story in my head. But I love this vague storyline either way. It’s going to be another emotional rollercoaster for me to write.