I am sitting in a four hour long Bollywood movie, thinking about plot issues that it’s having, and that leads me to my novel. I look at the actor, and wonder about why they missed this opportunity to give him the standard “fish out of water” scenes, and think of my novel. After two hours, I just bail and go work on my novel. Which is good, because I have decimated my word debt. Down to 400 words!! Off to sail tomorrow, and that is a just reward for writing a scene in which the flight attendants and Liz, and Collins, go to Alcatraz, which is a great parallel to Liz’s trapped feeling, and then she starts her tour- which is analogous to the tour in Pride and Prejudice, where she sees the “estates” in the Lake Country.While she’s abroad she appreciates Darcy, and also finds out about Lydia’s transgressions with Wickam. It’s too soon in the novel for her to actually do it, but I’m setting up the action.
The sun had gone down, and a stray ran of sunlight lit up the tops of the skyscrapers of San Francisco. Because it was dusk the water was flat and glassy. A Park ranger came by and thanked them for the dusk tours, and told them to listen for the next ten minutes, as they would hear sounds from North Beach filter across the still water, like it was only a few blocks away, not a mile.
The crowd was silent, and Liz stood there. She thought of the loneliness of the prisoners, their lives destitute and pointless, with no hope of escape or freedom, hearing women’s laughter, men’s voices, and even the cable car rings from the vibrant nightlife district. Her throat caught, despite feeling foolish at being so sentimental, she wondered what she was doing with her freedom, with the options in her life.