Summer in the City

“Do I look like the type of person who thinks all of this—the floor sticky with alcohol, my long dark hair wet with someone’s drink it accidentally dipped into, sweat sliding down the middle of my chest from all the proximity—is fun? Interesting. The idea I managed to blend into this crowd is a little…thrilling? This completely foreign, wild—”

This passage captures Elle’s discomfort in the nightclub setting and exposes her complicated relationship with visibility which also dictates her screenwriting career. Her rhetorical question distances herself from the crowd, signaling that she does not view herself as someone who naturally fits into this world—with people who actively live their own stories. Yet, her acknowledgment that it’s “thrilling” to blend in suggests a latent desire to escape her usual boundaries and experience something exciting and unfamiliar.

“This is my last night in New York City. Tomorrow, I’ll be across the country. For good. That’s why I agreed to wear this outfit, to be out past midnight, to have a last chance at my own movie moment.”

Elle’s framing of the evening as her last chance at her own movie moment illustrates her tendency to view life through a cinematic lens, also aligning with the motif of “movie moments” throughout the novel that support the theme of Becoming the Protagonist of Your Story. This passage hints at the tension between Elle’s desire for independence and control that she believes can’t coincide with letting life unfold unscripted. The fact that she positions herself on the edge of leaving the city while reaching for spontaneity mirrors her eventual choice to rewrite her narrative and reclaim joy.

“He represents everything I hate. He judged me by my appearance, as if I couldn’t possibly be successful on my own. As if I needed to rely on a guy, as if I were some lecherous gold digger. Did it cross his mind that I could be a successful screenwriter, who, the very night before he met me, signed a deal to write a movie that ended up grossing over half a billion dollars? No. He saw me and assumed I was after someone else’s money.”

Elle’s anger here is rooted not just in personal insult but in what Parker’s assumptions symbolize: a pattern of the wealthy’s tendencies to undermine others’ success. Her reflection that he didn’t consider she could be a screenwriter just further confirms her beliefs surrounding this assumption. This passage also highlights how Elle’s anonymity, while protecting her in some ways, also fuels misunderstandings about her independence and her success.

“Summer is supposed to be warm and rejuvenating and inviting, but there is nothing warm and rejuvenating and inviting about me. I hold grudges like security blankets. I treat everyone I meet like a thief, someone who will inevitably betray me if I’m dumb enough to let them inside my house. I resist change, like if I sit solidly in place and keep everything around me very still, nothing new will come through the net I’ve cast around my little life, and that means nothing can hurt me. Not anymore. Not ever again. Because I am also weak. I have these rules and no desire to grow past them, because the truth is I am a gaping Jenga tower, and I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m just one move away from crumbling.”

This passage offers a candid self-assessment that reveals Elle’s emotional fragility beneath her defensive exterior. It illustrates how she uses emotional distance as a protective mechanism, even when it isolates her. The “Jenga tower” metaphor articulates the instability of her current way of life. This moment is foundational to the theme of Writing Over the Past, as Elle begins to confront how her rules have not kept her safe, only stuck.

“Elle, he might be the worst, but getting out of the apartment wouldn’t be the worst idea […] I know you like to be independent. I know you like to be alone. But it’s gone too far. You have become an island, Elle. Like, a deserted one.”

Penelope’s comment positions Elle’s independence not as a strength but as a self-imposed isolation that has begun to limit her emotional and social life. The metaphor of a “deserted island” points to Elle’s withdrawal from others as both protective and unsustainable. This moment serves to challenge Elle’s internal narrative about self-reliance, pushing her toward re-engaging with the world during her summer in NYC.

“There’s no such thing as a successful writer […] I suppose it doesn’t matter, though, when you have a Parker Warren.”

This line from Walter Dresden reflects a deeply dismissive view of Elle’s profession, rooted in both gendered and class-based assumptions. His belief that Elle’s success is irrelevant in the presence of Parker’s wealth reinforces the theme of Money as a Tool of Control, suggesting that financial power overshadows creative achievement. It also serves as a turning point in Elle’s internal conflict, challenging her to assert the worth of her own accomplishments in a world that often prioritizes male capital over female creativity.

“I’ve kept this secret for so long. It’s been like a security blanket around me, shielding me from […] growing up. My lifestyle is almost the same as it was in college when I wrote and sold my first screenplay. Exactly how I like it. Nothing has had to change.”

This reflection reveals how Elle’s anonymity functions not only as protection from external scrutiny but also as a way to delay personal evolution. By maintaining her college-era habits and avoiding public exposure, she has preserved a static version of herself.

“The best gift I can give either of you is the freedom to live your life exactly the way you want to. Don’t let anyone ever take that away from you. She was speaking from experience.”

Elle recalls her mother’s advice as a directive shaped by lived hardship. She lives her mother’s advice like a mantra, avoiding any relationships that might hinder her freedom and independence. However, following this advice so literally closes Elle off from meaningful experiences outside the narrow confines of her interpretation.

“Contract. I wonder if spending his entire adult life building one of the world’s biggest technology brands has made him think of everything in business terms. I suppose he has to think that way, when marrying someone could mean giving them half of his company in a divorce.”

Elle’s assumptions about Parker depict him as a man who prioritizes his professional life over his personal life. She automatically assumes money has already distorted how he views and treats personal connections, aligning with her negative views about wealth. This moment also signals Elle’s skepticism about whether he can separate business from personal life, reinforcing her fear of being diminished or commodified.

“‘I’ve got you,’ I say, and something in his expression changes. Loosens, just a little. The Parker Warren on the magazine melts away, and I see a glimpse of vulnerability. Trust.”

As Elle helps Parker overcome his fear of heights at Summit One Vanderbilt, they experience their first moment of vulnerability and trust. This represents the first significant moment of bonding in their relationship, illustrating how their dynamic is slowly changing.

“I find myself feeling oddly defensive of him. Angry at anyone who would try to hurt him. Part of me hopes Charles will leak the news of our ‘relationship’ to offset this press, just like Parker intended.”

Elle’s reaction reveals a shift from her original disinterest in Parker to emotional investment, even if she hasn’t fully acknowledged it. Her defensiveness indicates a subconscious care for Parker, hinting at their deepening connection.

“Penelope would tell me to go. Parker clearly thinks I should too. I can feel him staring at me, though he doesn’t say another word. This summer is supposed to be about growing beyond the confines of my hermetic life, right?”

The theme of Becoming the Protagonist of Your Story is illustrated in this passage as Elle chooses to follow the advice of her best friend and fake-boyfriend and accept the invitation to go out with her new girlfriends. The reference to her “hermetic life” acknowledges her isolation and the challenge she faces in moving beyond it.

“This is fun. This is something the characters in one of my screenplays would do. For the first time in a while, I’m living life instead of just writing about it. It feels good. I can’t believe I almost made an excuse and missed this. There are moments in life, I think, that make you grateful you didn’t just stay in your room.”

Elle’s realization that she is finally participating in rather than scripting life reflects the theme of becoming her own protagonist. The distinction between writing about experiences and living them is made as she moves from observation to embodiment. This moment marks tangible growth in her character arc. This club scene mirrors the opening chapter’s setting but reverses the power dynamic: Elle is no longer merely observing wealth and performance—she is dancing at the center of her own story.

“My fingers catch against my necklace. It’s not worth anything, especially compared with any of the stones behind this glass, but it means everything to me. What would she think of me, here, with a tech billionaire? About to parade myself in front of cameras? I wonder if she would understand, given the circumstances. If she wouldn’t mind, as long as it was all pretend.”

As Elle touches her mother’s necklace, she is reminded of the lessons her mother instilled in her. The values the necklace represents contrast sharply with the public spectacle of wealth she’s engaging in with Parker. Her internal questioning reveals a conflict between honoring her mother’s values and navigating a blossoming romance with Parker.

“No one has ever paid much attention to me. That’s on purpose. I don’t like the attention. I’ve lived my life exclusively in the shadows, in anonymity. Now, that’s about to end. At least for Elle Leon, the person. Not me, the screenwriter. I frown, wondering when I started to give my profession most of the attention. Who is Elle Leon? I find I barely know. I’m better at writing everyone else’s story than I am my own.”

Elle’s reflection on anonymity exposes how her identity has become entangled with her profession, to the point that her sense of self has eroded. Her question—”Who is Elle Leon?”—suggests a growing awareness that storytelling has become a way to avoid self-examination. By living through her characters, Elle hasn’t felt the need to change anything about the lack of living in her real life. But now, as she’s making those changes, she begins to see in hindsight how this was detrimental to her personal growth.

“Then do it. That was her phrase. Whenever I complained about something, whenever I wanted something, it was always Then do it. It used to annoy me as a child, but I came to appreciate it. It meant action—not just thinking, not just wishing, not just dreaming, but doing.”

The repeated phrase “Then do it,” spoken often by Elle’s mother, encapsulates a pragmatic philosophy that values initiative over passivity. While Elle has taken great pains to follow her mom’s advice about independence and money, she has neglected this bit of advice that urges her to live actively.

“Relationships are complicated. People are complicated. There’s a gamut from good to bad, I know that. I don’t think too hard about the fact that Parker took us here, of all places, like he wanted to paint over the bad memories with good ones. The same thing he told me to do with the city.”

Elle departs from her earlier black-and-white judgments of people, especially Parker. Her recognition that he is actively trying to “paint over the bad memories” alongside her proves to her that he’s just as willing to change and evolve as she is, lowering her defenses more.

“Songs are played that I haven’t heard since college, and I dance with Mira and Adriana, laughing, and belting out the words, and moving without a care in the world. We’re in the middle, framed by bodies. No one is watching. No one cares. We’re all just trying to have fun. We dance for what seems like hours, until I feel sweat in the roots of my hair. I haven’t even had much to drink, but I’m drunk on the excitement, on the freedom, on the music. I’m swaying my hips, dancing to the rhythm, when I turn and see that part of the crowd has cleared. Parker is sitting there, watching me, the intensity in his green eyes nearly bringing me to my knees.”

The juxtaposition of this scene in the same nightclub as the opening chapter of the novel illustrates Elle’s personal transformation over the course of the novel. In the opening scenes, she felt out of place and wasn’t comfortable going onto the dance floor. In this passage, she has come into herself and owns a part of the dance floor as her own, evidencing how she has become the protagonist of her story.

“I don’t think too hard about the fact that my mother would hate that I was anonymous, that I refused to put my name proudly on my work, because of a man. Because of my father. She always told me not to let the men in my life diminish me, and I had allowed him to extinguish me.”

Elle’s realization that her anonymity also represents the kind of erasure her mother warned her about reveals the unintended consequences of letting fear dictate her choices. By conceding that she allowed fear of her father’s influence to suppress her visibility, Elle identifies a contradiction in her efforts to maintain her autonomy. This moment deepens the theme of Writing Over the Past, as Elle recognizes that hiding behind her work is another form of self-silencing, not self-protection.

“I’ve worked too hard, Parker, to be the woman my mother raised, just to throw it all away. To be…erased, inadvertently or not, by the person I’m with. I—I won’t allow it.”

Elle’s statement articulates a central fear: that love or partnership might compromise the independence she and her mother fought to secure. Her use of the phrase “inadvertently or not” illustrates that she is so set on following this life guideline that she will likely sabotage her relationship with Parker regardless of how much he proves himself to her, just to ensure she makes her mother proud.

“I hope, one day, my company is the least interesting thing about me.”

Parker’s comment signals that despite Elle’s fears, he does not care nearly as much for his business or his wealth as she believes he might. He genuinely values authenticity and emotional connection, which he hopes will carry greater meaning in his life moving forward.

“I wish I could ask her if her hatred ever got her anywhere. If sticking by the rules she made for her life ever made living any easier. I wish I could ask her about breaking them. My mom always looked at me like I was her mirror. Like I was her past self. Like she might be able to shake my shoulders and warn me off the path she already went down. Penelope says my mom would have wanted me happy, but why didn’t she choose happiness for herself?”

Elle’s reflection questions the rigidity of the values passed down to her, suggesting that even principles meant to protect can become limiting. Her mother’s projection of herself onto Elle highlights the generational transmission of obsession around independence and self-worth that has limited Elle’s exploration of her life by narrow confines.

“Elle. My little lion. Don’t be one of those writers who saves all the best lines for their characters. Say them yourself. Don’t save the best stories for your screenplays. Live them. Life isn’t a movie. There’s never just one start or ending. There’s always the chance to begin again. My biggest regret is not giving myself new beginnings. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Begin again and again and again. The promise of a new tomorrow is the best part of living. I love you and your sister more than anything. Take care of each other.”

This message from Elle’s mother reframes the act of storytelling as both personal and participatory, urging Elle to apply her creativity and bravery not only to her scripts but to her life. The advice to “begin again and again” directly supports the theme of writing over the past, emphasizing that identity is not fixed and that reinvention is always possible. It marks a pivotal emotional moment for Elle, granting her permission to pursue happiness without guilt. The letter also affirms the theme of Becoming the Protagonist of Your Story, inviting Elle to live fully rather than watch from the sidelines of her own life.