Cindy S. Jones

Calories consumed at JASNA meetings don't count

This blog was previously posted on Austen Authors.

I did not clean my oven last weekend and it’s all Jane Austen’s fault.

One day, eight years ago, I finished reading the last page of the sixth Jane Austen novel and suffered a debilitating realization:  Jane Austen was dead and would never write another word.  Cold turkey.  Withdrawal overwhelmed me as the Champion of Bookish Women departed my life forever, leaving only six novels.  I waded through anger and denial.  Other literature paled and I floundered for days until, seeking help, I turned to the internet and wandered into the Republic of Pemberley.  There, to my great astonishment, I discovered I was not alone—there was a name for people like me: Janeites.  And their active organization, The Jane Austen Society of North America, had a chapter in my neighborhood.

As the person responsible for my book’s promotion, I speak to book clubs, literary guilds, and library groups about my book, the creative process, and the journey to publication.  After such a talk last week where I had gone on for 40 minutes, sacrificing my husband and children for a laugh, baring my rejection history for a little sympathy, and explaining how my creative technique evolved from watching Gilligan’s Island as a child, someone raised their hand.  (I’m embarrassed to admit this).  The gentle reader asked, “What is your book about?”

I told her.

Published on Austen Authors, November 22, 2011 | 

My Jane Austen sits in the wicker chair in the corner of my office most days.  She amuses herself listening to my phone conversations, “Getting a lot of work done,” she observes.  Reading email over my shoulder, she comments, “I don’t see a conflict on your calendar next Tuesday,” and swiping books off my TBR pile.  ”People pay money for this?” she snarks, reading to the last page of Madame Bovary nonetheless.

This blog was posted on Austen Authors blogsite on October 28th.

Life is what happens when you were planning to do something else, and my plans for October were big.  As you are aware by now, the JASNA AGM happened in my backyard, Ft. Worth, Texas and I was part of the steering committee that has been planning the event for the last three years.  I devised the AGM Quiz, worked on the Author Book Signing Event, and planned a luncheon for the fiction writers who were present.   After the AGM, I gave myself two days to regroup before flying to southeastern Ohio for a week of writing and two library visits.  My family had been bracing for months.  We knew it was going to be tough without me around to taxi boys and buy groceries, but no one knew how tough.  On the Friday evening before AGM week, one of my sons injured his foot playing football with his friends.