200 Years Too Late

Some time after Craig and I got married, I got it into my head that maybe some day I could write a somewhat fictionalized novel about our courtship.  And not just because I'm one of those mushy types who likes to think that I am about as happy in my marriage as anybody can be.  I also figured the story of dating a total jerk and then finding Mr. Right is one that's worth hearing-- too many girls out there are clinging desperately to a crappy relationship not realizing that a truly happy one might be just around the corner.  (And I read enough advice columns to know that this is true, goshdarnit!)

Anyway.  I figured the story would read better if it were tweaked just a bit here and there.  The biggest change was that I'd have to introduce Craig (as a character) earlier in the novel, or else it would just seem choppy.  You can't go around switching romantic interests halfway through a novel without giving your reader some sort of foreshadowing.  Other than that, the story could probably stand pretty well.

But before I ever actually began writing, I realized that Jane Austen had beat me to the punch.  With Pride and Prejudice.  And Emma.  And the Marianne subplot of Sense and Sensibility.  Plus all the spin-offs done of those novels (the first thing that comes to mind is just Bridget Jones's Diary, but I know there are plenty of others out there)...

So this idea has officially been shelved.

Curse you and your brilliance, Jane Austen!  Curse you for writing my novel 200 years before I got around to it!



My only consolation is that she did a way better job than I ever could have anyway.