Writing Jane Austen Read Free Page A

to—”
    “You don’t have a career. Let’s just review how things stand, shall we? I got you a tip-top contract for
Magdalene Crib
. Cadell and Davies took it, paid good money for it, pushed it out. Classy reviews, lots of literary
succès d’estime
”—Livia’s French accent was nasally perfect—“winner of the Lorrimer prize, short-listed for the Orange, sold peanuts. Like I said, misery’s dead. What you’re working on is even more depressing than the first one. Bin it. Clear your head, and sniff the coffee. You missed the market. Two years, even a year earlier, you might have made it with that book. The world’s moved on, you haven’t. Get over it.”
    “Honestly, Livia, I don’t—”
    “Let’s look at things time-wise. We can’t keep the wraps on this for more than twelve weeks max. Hundred and twenty thousand words, could be more, you’ll know what length she wrote. You’ll do it under her title of course, not a bad one, got the right period feel,
Love and Friendship
. Seems she reused it, wrote some kid’s stuff with the same title, only spelt it wrong. No spell-check those days, least you’ve got Microsoft on your side.”
    “Livia, just who is this author?”
    Livia sat back, a foxy smile on her face. “Jane Austen, that’s who.Jane Austen, no less. Couldn’t be better, couldn’t be bigger. What a writer, bankable all the way, in print for two hundred years and now a superstar. That’s my kind of client. Not much sex and violence, of course, which is a pity, but that Andrew Whosit guy will put the sex back in when he does the TV adaptation.”
    Georgina couldn’t believe her ears. Aghast, she fought the sense of panic that had her firmly in its grip. She pushed the chair back, stood up, and braced herself on Livia’s desk. “Jane Austen? Are you telling me Dan Vesey’s found the beginning of an unknown novel by Jane Austen, and you want me to finish it?”
    “Don’t do that, you’ll leave marks on the polish. Yes. Jane Austen, and that’s the deal. Chance of a lifetime, for you.”
    Jane Austen? Chance of a lifetime? For some author, possibly, but for her? Nix. “Christ, you’ve picked the wrong person, you really have.”
    “Sit down.”
    Georgina sat, eyeing the door, wondering whether to make a run for it, then gathered her wits. She had to put a stop to this whole absurd business right now.
    “Clean out of my period,” she said. “I’m late, she’s early. You know how I work, I use authentic original sources, letters, journals, contemporary newspapers, court records. None of those apply here. And writers like Austen have their own style, there’s absolutely no way I could do it.”
    Ominously, Livia said nothing, just kept her eyes boring into Georgina. Without shifting them from her face, she banged a brass bell on her desk and shouted, “Tish!”
    Ms. Blue Specs appeared at the door. “Bring me Georgina Jackson’s file,” Livia said.
    “I have it here, Miss Harkness.”
    Livia slammed the blue folder down on the table. “Just to remind you of a few facts, Georgina. You’re an historian, right? Dr.Jackson, let’s not forget the Ph.D. Early-nineteenth, late-nineteenth century, what the hell’s it matter? You’re not familiar with the period? Then get familiar. You can pastiche 1880, you can pastiche 1810.”
    “It’s an honour to be asked, but truly, you’d be making a mistake.”
    “I don’t make mistakes.” Livia counted on her bony fingers, which were adorned with chunky modern rings. “Let’s recap, shall we? One, you lost your publisher money on
Magdalene Crib
. Two, you aren’t writing anything else that anyone’s going to want to buy or read. Three, you’re an American, but anglicized American. That’s a plus, because sales over the pond are going to be huge. Jane is even bigger over there than she is here. Four, you have a name as a literary author.”
    She let her fingers go, flexing them in front of her as though she were about to