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Subject: CHALKBOARD submission
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BIG NIGHT IN BIG BAY
by
Elaine R. Winkler 

The waitress appears ... Why don’t we scream at her? What did they do with our order? Are they missing some ingredient? We will gladly eat something else. We will eat a raw moose! 

           We are spending the week at my son’s cottage on Lake Superior. He and his wife are in town celebrating their twentieth anniversary.  Grandson Nelson is practicing with his driver ed class, which leaves us three. We decide we’ll dine out, too, at the twelve-miles-away Inn, where we had heard the pizza is pretty good. With the lake in its front yard and the forest at its back, there is a lot of wilderness around the village.

As we sprint across the sodden grass to the Inn, I am garbed in three layers while thirteen-year-old Max is comfortable in short sleeves. A woman dashing toward her car shouts, “Forty-five minute wait.”  Bob hates lines, but we have passed only a seedy-looking bar and it would be a 45-minute drive to town.  We will wait.

7:10--put our name in. The special tonight is manicotti with meat sauce. Perhaps we should order that. I pull three straight chairs around the cold woodstove. There are more people present here than reside in this village—at least 60 seated at three long tables, like three huge families, another 15 around the bar, including a small boy seated between a man and a woman chain-smoking, sipping a wine cooler. A group of three enter and sit in the corner. A family of five enter, then another six. What a popular place this Wednesday night! Are they all campers who don’t want to cook outside? I’m sure Max wishes he had brought his book. Boys run in and out, leaving the door open. Adults walk out and leave the door open. I walk over and close it once, before giving up. A girl sets up a small table and invites us to sit.

7:30--we’ve saved 25 minutes already!  We order quickly. We will eat soon! Apparently there is only one cook, however, for all these diners. The small boy from the bar leaves with the woman who smokes. The man stays behind. We sip wine and root beer.  There is nothing on the table to eat, no bread basket, no crackers.  Those who have eaten leave, the hungry arrive, tables are separated.

8:35--we have pumped Max about his schedule for the coming school year, discussed when the weather will turn. I should tell him my Uncle Viney story. We stare at empty glasses. Now wishing I had brought a book, I am still freezing with my jacket on. We reminisce about last Valentine’s Day when we were ushered in and out in 40 minutes—and that is a fine place where we wouldn’t mind lingering.  The waitress appears (from where? Outer Mongolia?) to say she’s sorry for the delay, our food will be out soon. Do you want another drink? Why don’t we scream at her? What did they do with our order? Are they missing some ingredient? We will gladly eat something else. We will eat a raw moose! 

8:40--eight teenagers come in and drag a table over to the stove. They pull out a deck and play cards. Now, there’s an idea! Next time we’ll bring an emergency kit—books, cards, sandwiches!

8:45--returning from a futile search for the restroom, I see a party--seated after us--already halfway through their meal.  Now I am angry! I hurry back as I see the girl setting down our plates--steak for Bob, chicken fingers for Max, and pizza for me. Are we really going to eat?  Max wastes no time devouring his chicken followed by two slices of my pizza (which tastes like Bisquick). We pass on coffee and dessert and clear out of there, only two hours and 20 minutes after we entered. If only it were a place we had wished to tarry.

            Back at the cottage, Max munches a snack bar over his book. Oh, no! The boy is already hungry again.  

© 2005 Elaine R. Winkler

HOW FAR DO YOU GO?

Part of the joy of writing fiction is immersing ourselves in other people's worlds. Behind the guise of "made-up" characters, we can say and do things we would never say and do in our own lives. 

Do you take advantage of this luxury? Take the quiz below to see how far you let your characters go. 

1.  Martha steals expensive perfume and hides it in Caren's purse. What do you have Caren do? 

         a)  Pretend it never happened. 
         b)  Call Martha to ask if she knew who did it. 
         c)  Squeal into Martha's drive, drag her thieving friend out by the ear and take her back to the store to pay for the perfume. 

2.  Wade wants to study Interior Design, but his father demands he study Architecture. What does Wade do?

         a)  Gives in to his dad's wish.
         b)  Writes his dad a long letter, explaining why he wants to study Interior Design, and sticks it under his pillow.
         c)  Moves out, gets a job as a male stripper to pay for design school. 

3.  Andrew learns his new wife is having an affair. What does he do about it? 

         a)  Eats Rocky Road ice cream and cries. 
         b)  Confronts her. They talk a few moments; they reconcile. Everything's fine. 
         c)  Pretends he's going to work. Returns a few hours later to find the "couple" in a compromising position on his pool table. Whacks them out of the house with a pool cue. 

4.  Eddy wins a trip to Aspen, Colorado, but he doesn't know how to ski. What does he do?

         a)  Gives the prize to a friend who can ski. 
         b)  Takes the trip, but stays away from the slopes. 
         c)  Flies to Aspen. Skis. Falls. Skis. Breaks both arms. Falls in love with ski instructor. Moves to Colorado.

5.  Janet witnesses her boss striking his wife. What does she do?

         a)  Looks the other way. 
         b)  Steps into his office, feigning ignorance, and launches into a work-related dilemma.
         c)  Jumps on his back, drives her fingers into his eyes while shouting at a co-worker to call 911.

6.  Maurice hears a noise in the basement. What does he do?

         a)  Leaves the house. 
         b)  Goes to the top of the stairs, calls out, "Anybody down there?" Then locks the door. 
         c)  Grabs a flashlight and a broom, runs down the steps, screaming like a banshee. 

The A characters are definitely the anal-retentive crowd, hiding in the bushes. Guaranteed to put readers fast asleep. If you recognize such bores in your work, you're either terribly shy or terribly afraid family and friends won't approve of what you have to say. Time to pick a pseudonym. Nobody has to know what you're writing. The anonymity will free up your creative voice, and give new life to the anal ones. 

The B characters are on the fence, unsure which way to lean. They're communicative to a point, which is always interesting, but they back off before things get too complicated. If your characters fit this description, you're too close. These people have become your friends, so you hesitate to hand them any problem that can't be resolved within a few pages. Time to push them off that safe fence and into a pile of warm horse droppings!

The C characters are at the edge of the cliff, hanging on with one finger. They dance to a different beat, refusing to seek the approval of others. All memorable characters possess this trait to a certain degree. If you're creating such people, you too must be hearing a distant drum. Congratulations! Time and time again you will force your readers to rip through the pages, asking themselves with bated breath: What will these people do next? 

Details.

    When dinner was done, the master horse took me aside, and by signs and words made me understand the concern that he was in, that I had nothing to eat. Oats in their tongue are called hlunnh. This word I pronounced two or three times; for although I had refused them at first, yet upon second thoughts I considered that I could contrive to make of them a kind of bread, which might be sufficient with milk to keep me alive, till I could make my escape to some other country, and to creatures of my own species. 

The horse immediately ordered a white mare-servant of his family to bring me a good quantity of oats in a sort of wooden tray. These I heated before the fire as well as I could, and rubbed them till the husks came off, which I made a shift to winnow from the grain; I ground and beat them between two stones, then took water, and made them into a paste or cake, which I toasted at the fire, and eat warm with milk.

This is enough to say upon the subject of my diet, wherewith other travellers fill their books, as if the readers were personally concerned whether we fare well or ill. However, it was necessary to mention this matter, lest the world should think it impossible that I could find sustenance for three years in such a country, and among such inhabitants.

 - JONATHAN SWIFT
 Gulliver's Travels