I mentioned previously that I finished writing my novel and might start posting excerpts, photo boards, and other stuff if readers wanted. I didn’t get any comments saying yes or no, but I’ve decided to go ahead anyway.

Featuring Kitty Bennet is set in modern day after contemporary events of P&P, featuring characters from various Austen properties.

Lizzy and Darcy have gotten together. Lydia ran off to LA with Wickham. Mary’s doing her own thing in Harvard, and Kitty is alone in community college. Determined to have a purpose in life than being Lydia&Kitty (especially with Lydia ignoring her calls), Kitty aspires to be the star of the school musical. However, the drama offstage is what’s keeping her on her toes.

Here’s a little excerpt from chapter one.

Chapter 1

Dance Ten, Looks Three 

Flat and sassy
I would get the strays and losers
Beggars really can’t be choosers
That ain’t it, kid, that ain’t it, kid

There’s nothing like the smell of greasepaint and sawdust. 

Not that Kitty could smell much of it from the last row of the theater. The lack of odor was ruining the romanticism of the moment, but the rule was that auditioners had to wait in the back of the room and not in the wings of the stage. 

Instead of smelling greasepaint and sawdust, Kitty Bennet felt the scratchy wool covering of the seats and the damp lace near her armpits from nerves. Ridiculous, because she wanted to be here. This was the most exciting thing she’d done on her own since her sister Lydia had left for LA. She was auditioning for the lead as Roxie Hart in Chicago, Pemberley Community College’s winter musical. It would be the beginning of her career onstage. At least it would be pivotal to proving to her family that she had a real chance at acting and that she wasn’t making her standing ovations during karaoke nights a bigger deal than they were. 

“How many people have gone again?” Kitty turned to Julia Bertram, her friend of four months, and hopefully many more. 

Julia looked up from her compact mirror where she was wiping off her stage make-up. Julia had been third on the sign-up sheet and already performed the dance-heavy number “Dance Like an Italian” from Nine. She said the choreography was a similar style to Fosse’s, the choreographer of Chicago and so many other musicals in the ’70s, so she felt confident that she’d get what she wanted: a solo number in the chorus. 

Kitty couldn’t imagine Julia not getting it. The girl had twelve years of ballet lessons and nine years of jazz and tap. She knew the other people auditioning probably had the same amount of training, but she had only seen Julia dance; Julia seemed able to change her body from drifting like a feather to a rubber-legged tapping diverish. Her singing was good, thanks to years of opera lessons, and she knew how to emote and project. Julia admitted that she sometimes found it hard to shift to musical theater style. Nonetheless, Kitty thought it was likely that Julia would get the other lead, Velma Kelly, the jazz dancer on trial for murdering her cheating husband and twin sister. That would be fine as long as Kitty got Roxie. The lead role would allow her to show off her singing, but had only one dance number to master. 

Her family had told her it was a long-shot. Logic implied it too. She hadn’t auditioned for anything before. Hell, she had only found out about the world of musicals in February. But Kitty knew she had a good voice, and acting was like playing pretend for grown-ups. Sure, musicals involved more dance than she was capable of, but Roxie was supposed to be an inexperienced fame-chaser. In the movie she only had one dance number, otherwise she sexily strutted around and posed. Kitty thought she could handle that and she hoped her voice would push past any doubts the director might have of her other skills. 

“Kitty?” Julia snapped her fingers in front of Kitty, who shook her head from her reverie. 

“Dreamy Kitty, head in the clouds,” her sisters would tease. It was a bad habit and one that Julia didn’t look too fondly on with her unamused expression. Although that might be more of a side-effect of her make-up; Julia had scrubbed the right side of her face, but the dramatically contoured make-up on her left made her look ghoulish in contrast with her bright blonde hair. The ashen foundation and darkened shadows under and around her eye. 

“I said,” Julia emphasized with a whisper, since sound carried thanks to the dome-shaped ceiling of the auditorium, “Once this girl’s done, it’s John Yates, and then you.” 

Almost like he heard what Julia had whispered, Mr. Willoughby, the head of the theater department, called out from the front row, “John Yates onstage. Katherine Bennet, wait in the wings.” 

“Good luck,” Julia squeezed her hand as Kitty stepped past her to get to the aisle. Her brand-new dance heels clicked against the wooden floor. Kitty stayed next to the brick wall, touching it for reassurance as her feet led her closer to the door next to the stage. 

Through the door, she was plunged into the darkness backstage and tripped on the first step. She could feel the scratch on skin through her Lycra leggings. Kitty internally cursed, groping to feel the stairway railing as her eyes adjusted. Dimly lit shapes came into focus, and she felt the smooth metal of the railing. Taking a deep inhale, she put her right foot solidly on the middle of the second step and walked up. When she felt empty air, she turned to her left as Julia had shown her last May when she gave a tour of the auditorium. 

A light through the shadowy curtains guided Kitty further to her left, and she saw her first glimpse of the stage. There were the curved scuffed lines of dance shoes on the wooden floor, and the back curtain that created a wall between the front stage, and the building facades from a previous show. She could also see from this angle and proximity that Yates’ pants were inching downwards with the tag of his underwear out like a small white tail. Kitty could also see how bright the stage lights were. They washed John out like he was a jaundiced dancing man. She knew that the sweat shining on his forehead must be coming more from exertion than the lights, but she could imagine the heat bearing down. 

Those lights would all be centered on her soon. 

All eyeswould becentered on her. 

Her heart began to beat louder. The kind that pounded in her ears, drowning out John’s singing that he was a “Very modern major general,” and made her palms feel clammy. 

All right, Kitty, you may not have done this before. . . Wait, I shouldn’t be thinking about how inexperienced I am. No time for doubts. I can’t be in the moment if I think about fainting. 

Her Mom’s words came to her instead. 

“Honey, do what you love, then everything will fall into place.” 

At the time, Mom had been referring to romantic love when her high school crush hadn’t noticed she was alive. She had meant that the guy Kitty had a crush on, the head of the biochemistry club, wouldn’t have noticed her unless she had a 4.0 GPA. For Kitty to get that she’d have to forgo a social life. She wouldn’t have been happy with that, and she wouldn’t have been happy with him. Kitty had to do what she loved, and someday she’d meet a guy at a flea market or a party, and love would follow. 

But that applied to this situation too. Do what you love and you never work a day in your life. That’s what acting was for her, Kitty knew it. 

Squeezing her hands together, she took in deep breaths and focused on why she was doing this in the first place: to give others that same feeling she had when she had fallen in love with musical theater. 

It had been her mom’s doing. 

Last April, Kitty had been exhausted, lying starfish on her bed, reeking of coffee and cream cheese from when a toddler decided to practice his throwing skills in the middle of the coffee shop. But that was normal when it came to waitressing at Perky’s. The reason she was staring at the spidery crack in her ceiling (that she had begun to think resembled a Y) was exhaustion from the world. The ceiling was a boring grey, but it was the only thing she could bear to look at. Her floral comforter and blush pink walls mocked her with their cheerful color. They reminded her of spring and the outside world.

Jane was in graduate school with her girlfriend. Lizzy was enjoying her final year at Boston University and applying to internships with her boyfriend. Mary was living it up at Harvard after transferring out of Pemberley Community College. Lydia was at a sunny resort in Beverly Hills with her boyfriend, Wickham. He had convinced her to drop out of college to join his house where he and several other social media personalities produced content. Whereas before, Lydia devoted one or two days a month to discussing her thoughts on fashion on her YouTube channel, she was now a bonafide influencer who also posted praises or diss-tracks on her unfaithful boyfriend alongside her shopping hauls. 

Kitty was still in Pemberley. Still in their childhood home, still taking the required classes, still working at the coffee shop near campus like nothing ever changed. The Bachelor was the only thing she had to look forward to and the new season wasn’t premiering until June. 

She had felt pathetic. 

Worse was that she hadn’t known how to make it better. She didn’t have the credits to transfer, and even if she did, Kitty didn’t know what she wanted to major in, much less which college would be the best fit. Even if she wanted to go out, she couldn’t think of a party that was worth it. Without Lydia, Kitty found out how much of her life had revolved around her sister. Most of their “friends” forgot to ask her to parties, and those who did remember only wanted to ask about Lydia’s new life.         

She had no social life and had the embarrassing realization that at 20 years old, had no idea how to make friends on her own. Lydia had taken care of that. Kitty was stuck and it left an aching hole in her heart. No, a hole in her chest because it felt like there was a hand twisting her torso inside out. She could only foresee a lonely future for herself. 

“Mija, what are you doing?” Mom’s soft voice poked her head around the doorway. 

Kitty forced herself to tear her eyes away from the ceiling crack and managed a faint smile. Her mom had a side-ponytail and a red peep-sleeve crop top just like Lydia had worn in her video yesterday. Even if Kitty never changed, at least Mom also never changed. Now that Lydia wasn’t here to advise her on the latest trends, Mom was dressing like a teenager again. Kitty supposed she’d better pick up the responsibility before Mom tried to claim she was the sixth Bennet sister. 

“Nothing,” Kitty answered. 

“It’s Gene Kelly Day on TCM if you want to watch a movie with me.” 

Back then, she hadn’t understood Mom’s interest in black and white movies with their funny radio accents and old film quality, but they had some nice outfits that she could speed-sketch. At least movies of the past had no reminders of the mundane state of her present. She grabbed her sketch pad off her nightstand and followed her mom down the hallway, through their living room/kitchen to the den at the left side of the house. 

Living in a cottage home near the theological seminary where Dad worked meant the house came with a side room that had originally been a study for the men of the house. One could see the initial intention with a desk positioned in front of the window looking out to the street, and the floor to ceiling bookshelves covering the walls. Dad still used the desk for his lesson plans, but they had left the shelves neglected. They turned all the couches and loveseats away from their positions between shelves to circling around the TV set next to the door.  

Kitty laid down on the long couch until Mom waved her to move her feet for her to sit up even though there were three available sofa chairs. Forcing herself to a sitting position, she put her sketch pad on her lap, ready to draw.

The dark screen faded to the MGM lion roaring and white cursive, Singing in the Rain. 

Names of actors that Kitty didn’t know began to appear on a blue background, and she took it as a promising sign that this movie was colorized. 

She never had the chance to pick up her pencil. 

Kitty forgot her sketchbook completely as she was taken in by the story of Don Lockwood’s rise from the cultured halls of boarding school to stardom on the silent screen, interspersed with the truth that he was a vaudeville hoofer. She cringed at the sound of his co-star’s nasal voice and the familiar story of co-stars pretending to be secret lovers to drum up publicity when they couldn’t stand each other in reality. By the time the titular “Singing in the Rain” song came on, Kitty had forgotten about the world around her and had fallen in love with the medium. 

She enjoyed movies. She watched The Princess Bride whenever she didn’t have a date for Valentine’s Day, but she had only liked the story and the characters. In a musical, she came to admire the actor behind the character as much as the characters themselves. Their talent was mesmerizing as they switched from dancing to singing to acting, and they were equally talented in each. 

That wasn’t all that caught Kitty’s interest. There was something a bit more. . . magical about musicals. Whimsical with their pastel-painted sets, the camaraderie of spontaneous sing-alongs. The songs pinpointed things she had felt but hadn’t had words to describe. 

Musicals were fantasy worlds and they were unashamed about indulging in fantasy. They had helped make her forget about troubles because who could really remember the real world when they were sucked into a love story in the Pacific or a gang war in New York alleyways. You knew good would win and you left feeling satisfied that the good guys and the bad guys got what they deserved.        

That’s what Kitty aspired to give in her performance: Not only make herself into another character but also give the audience an escape from the real world.  

She had spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch, and subsequent nights after work too. By the time she started to waltz around the den with Mom to “Shall We Dance,” Kitty was sure this was what she wanted to do. 

“Katherine Bennet onstage. Marianne Dashwood in the wings,” Mr. Willoughby called.

Kitty jumped backwards at the sudden interruption by reality, nearly getting herself entangled in the velvet curtains. A hot blush covered her face, and she forced herself to exhale and smile through her embarrassment.  

She, Kitty Bennet, wasn’t going out onstage. 

No, it was Val, the sassy, catty dancer from A Chorus Line, going onstage. Val was confident and sexy. Kitty had chosen “Dance Ten, Looks Three” from A Chorus Line because it had a similar premise to Chicago, focusing on people trying to become a star in the cut-throat theater industry. Plus, the character of Val was as vain and selfish as Roxie was. 

She lifted her chin and curled her lips into a smirk. She thrust her chest out, leading with her breasts while her high ponytail, Ariana Grande–style, swung past her shoulder blades. She put her hands on her hips and walked with an exaggerated swing so those in the back rows could see her, or rather Val’s, best assets. She crossed her right leg over her left in her beginning pose, feeling the full force of the stage lights. It felt like she had stepped onto a beach, and she had an irrational worry that she was going to get sunburned, especially with the bare skin she was showing in her black corset top. Finally, she heard the tinkle of a piano play the first bar of sheet music. 

The lovely thing about musical theater was that you had to be present the whole time. Even though she hadn’t planned choreography with the song, Kitty let the words lead her actions. A little shimmy when she described buying a new pair of tits, tracing over her figure as she asked the audience if they liked the look she bought.  

Closing her eyes, she envisioned a better, sexier version of herself. One who never felt insecure a day in her life. In real life, she always worried she’d say the wrong thing and reveal herself to be a shallow idiot without the assests to get away with pretty privilege. But here, she had lines approved, and everyone guarenteed to applaud.  

Strangely, Kitty felt like she had double awareness. One part of her was on automatic, caught up in playing a bolder, brassier girl under stage lights that were making her mascara sting the corners of her eye. The other part of her was focused on her throat, and how the alto sections rumbled in her diaphragm, the feeling of blockage when she came close to a note out of her range, and breathing through her nose so she wouldn’t ruin her momentum by loudly panting in between lyrics. 

It was a three-minute song, but it felt like fifty seconds, and Kitty was hitting her last pose, her blood pounding in her ears again, and her chest tingling with excitement and sweat.  

Enthusiastic clapping shattered the brief silence, and she whipped her head toward her left where the noise was coming from. She shaded her eyes, and squinted to see a young man, maybe mid-twenties, at the piano whose clapping faded to a soft thump with a sheepish shrug to Mr. Willoughby. 

At least someone enjoyed it. Kitty smiled, feeling her shoulders relax. 

“Ah-hem, thank you, Miss Bennet. Frederick, you know we’re silently reviewing. Do not applaud the actors, it’s not professional.” 

Kitty’s eyebrows flew up. Frederick Tilney was the name of the grad student Mr. W introduced before starting auditions. He hadn’t attended the college, but he wanted to gain credits and build up his resume by helping local productions as an assistant director. Kitty hadn’t thought much about him, assuming his role was probably going to be a gopher in getting props and other errands Mr. Willoughby had no time for. Now, she took a second look. 

Since the piano was right next to the stage, she was close enough to see the bright crinkle of Frederick’s eyes, and that smile that lit up his whole face like she had amazed him. 

The crinkles faded as he made direct eye contact with her. 

His eyes were brown. Dark brown like a rich chocolate and just as intense. Suddenly Kitty felt exposed not to a sunburn, but his singular attention. Slowly she stood from her crouched position, and his eyes didn’t leave her. 

Rather he leisurely looked her up and down, and the smile that overtook his face transformed into an appreciative smirk. The side of his lip curled, highlighting a dimple near his cheek, and something hungry flashed as quick as the hard thump in her heart. He nodded at her and winked, making her feel warm all over. Thoughts flew from her mind until she felt a purposeful brush against her back. 

Marianne Dashwood passed her to the front of the stage and Kitty realized she should go. Trying to ignore the confusing tumult in her stomach, she looked toward the piano again. Although Frederick’s hands were busy straightening the sheet music, he looked up at her from under his eye lashes and gave her a thumbs up.  Maybe it was her imagination or residual adrenaline from performing, but she swore that the stage lights hit the piano in a way that made his clear complexion shine. She could feel a giggle climb up her throat and heat bloom on her cheeks.