Jo and Laurie: A Re-telling of the Re-telling

Dilemma

Dilemma

"Josephine! Letter for you," exclaimed Mr. March.

Jo ran down the stairs as she tripped on her ankles, all that sitting down writing never gave her the strength one naturally acquired while being active. Jo stayed within her attic next to her lit candle.

Jo's eyes widened as she saw the letter was addressed to her, Miss Josephine March, and was from her publisher Niles. Jo ungracefully ripped the envelope open to see what the old man had to say, hopefully it wasn't awful. Jo's face turned red with mixed emotions as she read the page.

Dear Miss March,

I hope I am not writing you too early after the publication of your novel, or rather your friend's novel. Please excuse that joke, I couldn't help it. Your novel has been thriving, taking huge strides, and has made its way into every American's heart. Brava, well done.

Miss March, you have talent as you know and I believe that you can go great places with the nourishing and fostering of said talent. Your name is becoming well known throughout the American household which is something to be very proud of. Because of your growing popularity, I find that it would be wonderful if you could write another novel based upon more domestic issues. Men and women seem to just love your honest story-telling, the world is craving more of you, Miss March.

Please let me know what you think. Of course, we can discuss this matter further, only if you accept this proposal. I deeply encourage you to at least consider this, Miss March.

This book would be in no hurry, I just feel as if it would be best to get a head start now so we can capitalize upon your growing popularity.

May God bless you.

Sincerely,

Niles

Marmee could see the racing thoughts in Jo's mind, "Is everything okay, Jo?"

"Just fine, Marmee. Thank you." Jo remarked rapidly.

"Well, what did he say?" Mr. March curiously inquired.

Jo stuttered, "Well-I guess...He wants me to write another book."

"Jo, that is wonderful!" Marmee hugged her daughter.

"No, Marmee! It is the opposite of wonderful! Why can't I just live in the glory of my hard work now? After all that turmoil finally finding a book that was up to par with his standards? He told me I couldn't write any gothic novels, for those were too gory during wartime. Then he told me that I couldn't write tragedies because people needed to be happy during wartime! Well, I finally struck gold with this book and now he just wants a replica? How can I ever top that work! Marmee, I could never do it!"

Jo's eyes started to water.

"My love, do not worry. He said it's in no hurry. You were born to write, you know that you were. You were going to have to write another book sometime! You might as well start brainstorming now. Laurie's home too, I am sure you could talk through some ideas with him."

"What could I write about? There's nothing more to be said about our family. I gave the readers' an ending I thought would appease them."

"Josephine,' Mr. March added, 'there's always something else to write about."

Jo grew so frustrated with everyone around her, she felt as if no one could understand what this book meant to her.

I can't believe they think I can just write something else, it's not that easy.

Laurie walked in at that moment, "Jo, why you look redder than a tomato!"

"Would it come as a surprise to you too, Teddy, that snow is white?" Jo sarcastically remarked.

"My observation was never meant to offend you, I was just stating a fact. You'd better watch your sarcasm, you are starting to sound like your Aunt March."

Jo's eyebrows wrinkled and her face only got redder.

She's so adorable even when she's angry, Teddy noticed.

"I am sorry, Jo. Don't take offense, I was only trying to cheer you up."

Jo disregarded his apology and grabbed his hand, ignored her parents who with she was frustrated, and ran up to the attic. She jolted Laurie up the stairs and plopped the two of them down on the dusty couch that was basically rooted into the ground.

"Teddy, he wants me to write another book like Little Women!"

"Why, Jo! That's splendid!"

"No! Teddy! It's not!"

"Well, I don't see why it's not! You got offered another book!"

"Yes, another book that I do not and will never have!"

"What do you mean, Jo?!"

"That novel means so much to me, I can't just replicate it. Things are different now, what else do I have to write about?"

"Well, can't you write a creative novel? Or continue writing a gothic? Or a play, perhaps?"

"Teddy, the only reason why that book was so good was that it was based upon real events. The only reason why my writing was beautiful and cohesive was that it is based upon my loved ones. I can't fabricate anything more than what I did. It wouldn't be right."

"Jo, another book will come to you. God will reveal it to you in His perfect time. And in the meantime remember: every pilgrim has a progress, right?"

Jo laughed and grabbed his hand, "Thank you, Teddy."

"Anything for you, my dearest friend."