Yours Faithfully, Amanda

September 19, 2015 Dear Jane, I dare say that you will not believe the fantastic week that I have had unless I give you a thoroughly precise account of it. (Do not let yourself become too excited for I have not yet fallen love with a modern day Mr. Darcy, but it is still exciting news!) I hardly know where to begin! (How often is it that I start a letter with so much glee? I must endeavor to have a happier tone in my letters if this such an uncommon occurrence.) ... The three dots above indicate a lapse in time in which instead of writing, I walked to the local washer woman (or rather, the laundromat) and dropped off (or rather, did myself) my clothes to be cleaned. This is my least favorite errand to complete as I am now very weary and have no desire to do anything else for the remainder of the day. That being said, I shall do my best to continue this correspondence. Where was I? Oh yes...my adventures. I shall go day by day so that I can be sure that I do not leave a single

September 7, 2015 Dear Jane, I confess that I had no intention of writing another letter so soon after my last, but I dare say the occasion calls for it. I moved back to Queens this past Saturday with the assistance of my wonderful sister, Rachael. It was naturally bitter-sweet (with rather more emphasis on the bitter) for not only is New York exceedingly hot, but my family is not with me here. To make matters worse, I must begin working and auditioning this week. I confess that I already miss my lovely summer in Connecticut, but I understand that as a twenty six year old female it is important to live independently from one's family. Anyhow, the purpose of my writing this letter is not to complain about moving back to New York (although I have already done just that), but rather to tell you about the Jane Austen Festival in Bath, England. I am sure you would have been very surprised to learn that one day a grand festival would be held entirely in your honor every year. Unfor

Dear Jane, I must confess that I write to you in a state of utter despair. In truth, I feel as Elizabeth Bennet felt when she learned that Lydia ran away with that wretch, Wickham. In other words, I feel hopeless.  Let me explain (for it is not so very alarming as I have made it seem, but it is not joyous news either)... As I was looking  leisurely  through my cellular device this morning whilst lounging in bed, I decided to glance at the book list I had saved in my notes. In my tired state (and by a cruel turn of fate), I accidentally erased the whole list and there is no hope of recovery. What is a young lady who prizes books above all things to do in such a situation?? I am sure that you know by now how very terrible my memory is, so you will agree that I have almost no hope in remembering what was on that list. Oh, woe is me, Jane! Somehow, I shall find the strength to carry on, but it will not be an easy task, I dare say. I hesitate to share my next story with you, Jane, f