Author's Note- This is my first fan fiction. I'm not a good writer- I already know that. I want as much constructive criticism as possible. I'd really like to improve my writing skills. Basically, this is a modern day girl who takes fan girling to the next level. For those of you who don't know, John-Andrew Clark is the current Enjolras on the US tour. Hopefully, you'll enjoy the story. This fic has utterly no point. You have been warned.

January 20, 2005

Dear Diary,

I didn't think I would ever write a diary. For most of my life, I thought I'd leave that to intelligent people, like Anne Frank. My friends recommended that I try it. They think I need a place to put all of my fantasies, most of them about Enjolras. They always try to tell me that Les Miserables isn't real. How can Les Miz not exist? What are they talking about?

Enjolras is my dream guy. Nothing is more attractive than a man jumping on a table an making chapter long speeches! I've made it my purpose in life to marry him, or something. People don't believe I can do it. They say something about him not existing. Well, if he doesn't exist, I guess I'll marry an actor who played him.

I tried out for the 3 national tour of Les Miserables last summer. I went in there, hoping that I wouldn't break anyone's ear. I wanted to meet a potential Enjolras. I can't sing, and didn't expect that I would even get to try out. Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

It was a cattle call audition, but the directors wanted to see all the equity actors first. I was so nervous when they finally called me in to try out. I sang sixteen bars of "Think of Me" from Phantom of the Opera. They actuallyput earplugs on. Sure, it wasn't on par with Sarah Brightman's performance, but it wasn't dreadful! They asked me why I was trying out. I answered "To meet John-Andrew Clark! Why else would I try out? Did you think I actually wanted a job or something?"

I won't be performing on the tour anytime soon.

C'est la vie… I'll have plenty of other opportunities to meet some Enjolratti. Hopefully, the meetings will go much better than they did with Christopher Mark Peterson. Last time I saw him, he mentioned something about a restraining order. I just can't understand that. I didn't stalk him. I will admit that I followed him into his hotel room and hid under his bed for an hour, but that really isn't stalking! Some people are so thick headed.

Well, I must go listen to a recording a Les Miserables now. I need an Enjolras fix for the night. Maybe later, I'll create another entry. I swear to be a faithful diary writer. Here's to many more days of Enjolras Worship!

Catherine Patterson

Does anyone actually want to read more tales of a crazed stalker? Should I continue?