And finally I wrote the scene I’d been thinking about, the scene I’d been plotting all day yesterday while in Galveston. Betty’s got some serious trouble because she’s having an affair with Cornelius. Mrs. Guidry, the cook, knows about it and doesn’t approve, but she covers for them anyway out of loyalty and also because she doesn’t want anything terrible to happen. It’s 1961, and even on the Island, with its sweet breezes and easygoing people, a young black man sleeping with a white woman could come to a bad end. But Cornelius doesn’t care. He’s brave and daring and full of anger. He’s also got a plan.
I won’t give away any more than this. Suffice it to say, I’ve reached an enjoyable stage in the writing, one where it just flows. I only wish I had more time. Still. Slowly but surely it will happen.