2 years ago I hadn’t even heard of fan fiction, let alone Jane Austen fan fiction. If I had seen the acronym JAFF written down, I might have thought it was one of those error messages I don’t understand that pop up on my computer screen from time to time. I had always been a voracious reader, but somehow this was a landscape that had passed me by, a path that I didn’t even know was there.
Then I found myself pregnant with our
second child when our first was only 7 months old and somehow, as well as
making me feel pretty sick, it stirred up the old romantic in me. Up went the
feet and out came the self-pity chocolates. On a whim, I dusted off my DVD of
the old 1995 Pride & Prejudice mini-series. It wasn’t long before I was as
hooked as I had been when it was first broadcast, aged 14. It occurred to me
that it wouldn’t hurt to re-read the novel, and so I did that as well.
Before I knew where I was, I was living
with Lizzy and Darcy. I just couldn’t get them out of my head. What happened
next? What became of them? The possibilities danced around my mind. Jane Austen
is famous for having written perfectly of “two inches of ivory”, so what about
the rest of the fabric? What about the character’s lives behind closed doors? What
about the world below stairs? What about the male friendships which go
unexamined in the original? The permutations seemed endless.






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