A letter.

Dear Jane Austen,

I don't understand you that much.

I have spent my night watching two of your stories unfold on screen for the hundredth time. (Yes Jane, tonight I have been watching rather than reading.)
While sitting in the dark alone your stories have made me think.

Why must each of your stories have an element of distrust in them? Do you not think that one man is entirely honest?

Jane, I am in love, and I find that your novels are more worrisome than, say, real life.
Also, why are the bad men in your novels such charming and debonaire gentlemen? I am sick of that, lets make the bad guy the bad guy. Sure, for the sake of suspense it is nice to have the bad guy seem good and look good, and then end up being the worst. But, come on, it is getting old.
Although I have seen Becoming Jane (the movie that has been recently made about you if you were unaware), I dare say that there is much left about you that is still unknown. I don't know what love really did to you, and I only wish you lived long enough to fully disclose it.

One thing I am wondering is how do you feel about Hugh Grant as Mr. Ferrars? And also, which Mr. Darcy do you prefer, the alluring Colin Firth or the surprisingly charming Matthew Macfayden? I know there have been many examples of each characters, but I just need to know. Because I am digging all three, seriously. And Alan Rickman as Col. Brandon? Wow, Needless to say, I'm addicted to your men Austen.

Now, I know this letter is probably not on your list of things to respond to, wherever you are. I just have been thinking a lot about you.

To you I say thank you. For the impact you have had on, well, all of us, whether we acknowledge it or not.

And, I think it is safe to say, this has not been our best day Jane.

Sincerely,
Emily.