botching beauty

I hate how amateurish and petty all my attempts at a novel seem to be. I have this big idea in my head, this grand storyline that I think will finally work. So I start to write it, and it all becomes one big blob of crap.
I think I just need to stop watching/reading/admiring Jane Austen. She really knows how to bring me down. Her words are so elegant and skillfully placed. To be that woman, I tell ya.
I think the whole 19th century speak is a big factor in thinking my stuff is crap. I keep telling myself that a modern novel isn't going to have as exquisite language and dialogue.
Errf.
Maybe this just all comes down to my extremely unhealthy longing to live in Europe in the 19th century.

Perhaps I'll ask God to gather all the 19th century peeps and build a historical village in heaven.
Jane Austen, you'd better be in heaven. I'm not even kidding...

Happy summer, children.
<3