Coasting Off Other's Fame vs Coming Up With Your Own Shit

To say that Pride and Prejudice is my favorite book sounds cliche now, but much as I was a Masterpiece Classics fan circa twenty years before Downton was ever an Abbey, I have been in love with the Miss Bennets, Lizzy in particular, since the tender age of ten. This affection absolutely predates the present phenomena of books, movies and general Austen spinoffs that seem to force the point, namely that Pride and Prejudice is perhaps the world's most perfect story.

Generally speaking, I don't like it. It makes me feel less authentic in my praise; I've actually resisted the urge to join in a rapturous conversation about the many glowing aspects of P&P simply because I didn't want to sound like those other girls (it's always a group of girls, single, drinking, making wild assumptions about who their Mr. Darcy might be - barf). I bet not a one of them could pick Collin Firth out of a lineup if their life depended on it.

There is only ONE Mr. Darcy

As sacred as I hold this thing, you'd think that I would be furious at the idea of anyone touching it in a way that would alter the original text. And I am, just totally opposed to the whole idea. Then this happened:

Seth Grahame-Smith, I...love you?

Here's what's brilliant about this: reading it, there was just this strong feeling that here was a guy who really loved this book, this story, and felt like he could make something fresh and new and hilarious for those of us who have read it a hundred times already. It was a gift; a way to enjoy the old tale with a similar level of anticipation and uncertainty about it as the first time because you truly didn't really know how things would shake out. And it was funny - god, so funny. And original; who had ever though to do a mashup like this? 

In this way, I don't mind the whole grifting off other's work to make something of your own because I don't see the ill intent here; I just see someone who thought of something that would be highly entertaining and who executed it exceptionally well. Not so much with the prequels and sequels and spinoffs that so many other people have created as, what comes off as, a way to take full advantage of this new advent of Austen's fame. And then I started doing it.

I'm sitting with a group of women, drinking, defending my dismissal of romance novels on the grounds that they're so terribly written when I blurted out "now, if Jane Austen ever writes a romance novel, I'm in." Shit. There it is; take Pride and Prejudice and add in the sexy bits. It's so obvious, so easy to navigate, so...done before.

There's nothing like a quick Google search to teach you that every original idea you've ever had has been had by hundreds of others who not only beat you to the idea but also to its execution, albeit poorly. Sex has already made its way into Longbourn, Pemberley and the surrounding areas, though the reviews are dismal. Because the wrong person did it; someone who doubtless had little love of the text and little understanding of the world and the tone and the subtle snarkiness that was necessary to match the Austen style. 

So here's where I am: I want to take Pride and Prejudice and add sexy bits and innuendo as if Jane herself had done it (I'll just go ahead and apologize now for my audacity in comparing myself and my future writings to Jane Austen; please don't throw things at me). And on the other hand, I don't want to do that at all. I actually feel sick about it. It's all very confusing; I don't want to feel like I'm not good enough to come up with something wholly original, and yet the entire idea makes me giddy with delight. I mean, think about the possibilities; Whickam would be an absolute whore, just a goldmine. Mr. Collins would be into some freaky shit. Mary is your resident lesbian...

No, no no no. I hate it. No. 

But it would be so fun. 

No. Ugh.