Why I like A Walk With Jane Austen

Six years ago, my mentor gave me “A Walk with Jane Austen” by Lori Smith as a birthday gift.  I read my mentor’s birthday message written on the inside of the book flap, flipped through the first few pages, and put the book in a shelf.  Having done that, I never thought that it would become a favorite, and it would leave a mark in my life.

When I went home to Batangas a month ago, I got bored, which led to my browsing the bookshelf inside my room and found, to my delight, the gift that I received from several years back.  I read the book jacket again, and I was surprised to learn that the storyteller was thirty-three years old when she wrote it—the same as me now; quit her job—likewise; and was busily exploring a writing life—me too!  Our lives couldn’t have been more alike.

With a freshly brewed coffee and steaming curiosity, I started to read Lori’s journey, wondering how it ended for her.  I believe I’d like to know because brave as I was when I resigned from my job, there are moments of uncertainties when I question myself and listen to the ramblings inside my head about what my future would become now that I have taken the leap of faith.  If Lori’s ended well, then maybe it could turn out great for me too.  Although drawing parallels between her story and mine, and believing there to be a similar direction for our fates is ridiculous, I still wondered.

Lori described her job as difficult, I would say that mine was challenging.  Although I welcomed the challenges but later on quit, I couldn’t, wouldn’t say that it was because I never liked what I did, but simply put, that I felt a greater passion calling out to me in the field of writing.

There are several points where Lori’s journey almost felt like I own them:

“I saved thousands of dollars and determined to leave my job and write for a year, to see if I could make it.”  A smile touched my lips as I read this passage because this was exactly what I did.  Three months ago, I was still in the corporate world handling project implementations.  One day though, I told myself that since I’m very passionate about writing, now’s a good time as any to quit and try to make it in this field.  If or should nothing come out of it, I could go back to gathering system requirements, testing, and staying up late nights while waiting for the new version of the application to be rolled-out to users.  The only difference, but a significant one, was that I saved thousands of pesos and not dollars.  So Lori was way better equipped than I in chasing after a dream.

“I started to date again…”  When I came to this line, I chuckled at first.  Then I started laughing really hard because I started dating too.  It wasn’t because I badly wanted to get into a committed relationship or rush into marriage, but rather because I had to know why I missed out on dating.  I contacted old flames and met with them.  And found out that the man I dated long ago still had not changed.  He’s a good man, but I still couldn’t figure out where we were.  Maybe I should date someone new because although some believe that love could be sweeter the second time around, there’s just about a number that would say that love previously unfound would bring immense joy when finally stumbled upon.  I don’t want to believe that all the stumbling I’m allowed to have in this lifetime is done for.  So I’ll traipse and stumble some more.

“I started going to an Anglican church that I love.” My cousin invited me to join a Christian Fellowship group and I have been attending for several weeks now.  My faith never wavered, but I wasn’t entirely religious.  Being back with a group helped me remember the words of God, and how He promised that He would never forsake me.  Each time I kneel now on the pew, bow own, clasp hands in front of my face and pray, I would feel warm because I have grown stronger in faith.  If I had been afraid before, I was able to rid myself of that feeling.

Fourth, while I have not succumbed to depression yet, with the piles of rejection letters I’m getting from agents I wrote to represent my book, if I do not keep on praying, going to church, and listening to my small Christian group’s constant encouragement, I just might find myself more than just disheartened too.

Nowadays, I also think that sleeping and being awake attained such close kinship; the difference for me though was that sleeping meant reaching farther and more beautiful places while the latter encompassed for me the four-wall confines of my car as I drove around familiar grounds.

Lori’s dream of a marriage didn’t materialize as the book wraps up, but maybe it is fated for there to be a book two, some sort of A Walk with another famous author, Madeleine L’engle perhaps, whom she also adores and who ended up married unlike Jane Austen.

I wasn’t hoping for marriage.  Adopting a baby and making the baby grow experiencing what could have been a rougher life is what I want.  Provided of course, that somewhere between the time that I wrote this and the time that I did adopt a baby, I wouldn’t develop some crazy, manic personality imbalance that would render me unfit for motherhood.

These points, aside from countless others I’m no longer able to enumerate, touched me with a tranquil fascination.  I wrote my mentor saying that I finished reading his gift. 

Embarrassed, I added in my note that maybe, there’s a reason I only put my hands on the book recently.  It wouldn’t have touched me immensely before the way it did me now that I’m probably experiencing a similar level of prolific confusion interspersed with utopia that Lori got when she was the same age as I.

Lori’s book ended with roughly seventy-five thousand words; mine was sixty-five thousand.  Needless to say, she got hers published while I still work on having mine out in the market.  Hers talked about the quiet, satisfying “step into a life of grace"; mine talked about miracles. My dream may be a far cry from happening, but I have started acting on it.  And that is what’s important.