Unfinished (Working Title)
CHAPTER 1
"It was a dark and stormy night."
Okay, so I've started writing like Snoopy in the "Peanuts" cartoons. Nothing like writer's block to get you
trying anything just to get words on a page. Erasing the line, I decided that a quick game of Solitaire might
help. Half and hour later, I was still caught up in the ceaseless wonder that is a simple game of computerized cards...addictive little buggers.
Switching back to the manuscript I've been working on since July, I'm truly stumped as to what my
characters should be doing. Should Carley and Fernando be further in their relationship at this point?
Should they go skydiving? Naked? I was not getting anywhere, so it was time to go to bed. A writer's block
night was complete.
My name is Gretchen Forrester, author of exactly 2 novels, neither spectacular. It was all I could do to write
a mere paragraph these days. A vacation was out of the question, knowing my meager savings was nearly
depletion. Another part-time job was in order. Changing quickly into pajamas, I thought about what I
would be doing this time. I'd already done clerical temporary work, waitressed, bartended, washed cars and
dogs. Maybe I should try retail this time.
Mushing the pillow down the way I liked, I knew sleep would be elusive with all of these thoughts running
through my head. I had a deadline that needed to be met, an empty refrigerator, and no new ideas. These
thoughts and more flipped through my busy mind until my body could take no more and fell into a restless
sleep.
Beep, beep, beep, beep...and blessed silence. My hand smarted from where I had hit it on the bedside table
as I silenced the annoying alarm. Another day in my mediocre life. Stuffing my feet into the fuzzy slippers
next to the bed, I padded out to the kitchen and slipped some bread into the toaster. One thing I actually
had to eat in the house, and with my luck, it’ll burn.
Indeed, smoke was curling out the top of the toaster already. Quickly flicking up the knob, I spared myself
some scraping. A couple swipes of butter later, I picked up the plate of toast and grabbed a soda from the
fridge. Parking myself and my breakfast in front of the computer, I quickly found my stopping place from
the night before. I wasn’t surprised to see I hadn’t gotten my daily word quota in, and would have to work
like a demon to catch up today.
Two hours later, I had finally broken through to start on today’s word count. Carley and Fernando were in
the midst of a particularly intense scene, but my bladder wasn’t paying any attention. Praying I didn’t lose
my train of thought, it was time for a break. After I checked my voice mail, I headed back to the computer.
The cursor was staring menacingly at me but I knew I could get back into the story quickly.
The phone rang half an hour later, startling me out of writing mode. “Hello?”
“Hey Gretch, what’re you doing?” It was my sister, Sarah.
“What do you think hun? Did you forget I have a deadline?”
“Oh yeah, now that you mention it, I remember. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to come over for
lunch. I made this great salad.” She knew my weakness for fresh veggies and French dressing.
“What time? My goodness, is it one already?”
“Why don’t you take a break and head on over. It’ll be ready when you get here.”
“Let me change, and I’ll be right over.” Replacing the receiver, I mentally went through my closet. I was
pretty sure my khakis were still clean. In writing mode, I tend to forget things like laundry, grocery
shopping, etc. Running a brush through my hair, I picked out a shirt and grabbed my sandals. Quickly
changing, I was out the door in less than ten minutes.
Arriving at Sarah’s apartment ten minutes later, I prepared myself for the inevitable questions. She always
wanted to know what my characters were up to, no matter if I was going to tell her or not.
“So, how are Carley and Fernando today?” Sarah asked predictably.
“Buy the book. Where’s the salad?” I had noticed when she came into the room she had only brought us glasses of iced tea.
“We’ve got company for lunch,” she stated calmly.
“Oh no, don’t tell me this is a setup! Don’t do this to me Sarah…I’m not even dressed properly to meet a man. You should have warned me.” Sighing heavily, I started to pace her small living room. “You know I hate it when you spring stuff like this on me. Who is it this time?”
“It’s one of Mike’s friends from work.” Mike was Sara’s long-time boyfriend. “His name’s Ben, and I’ve seen his picture, done everything but run a background check on him. Seems like a really nice guy.”
“That’s what they all say. Fine, but my terms. No leaving us alone at the table, no sly remarks, no lying to build me up.” I sighed inwardly. This was going to be a long afternoon.
Just then, the doorbell rang. “That should be Ben. Be nice!” Sarah bustled to the door, excited by her new
project. “Come on in Ben. Gretchen and I have just been catching up.”
Ben Graham was a tall, good looking guy, light brown hair and blue eyes. “Thanks for inviting me Sarah.” Turning around, he started in my direction. “You must be Gretchen. Nice to meet you.” We shook hands and Sarah waved him to a chair.
“Would you like something to drink Ben?” Sarah said, acting the perfect hostess.
“Whatever you ladies are having is fine.” She nodded and grabbed the pitcher from the kitchen counter.
“Mike’s told me a little bit about you Gretchen. You’re a writer?”
“Yes, I’ve written a couple of books. No bestsellers yet, but still optimistic.” That was an understatement.
My checking account was taking offense. It hadn’t been so empty since I started college.
“What kind of books do you write? “ Ben truly looked interested. I felt a little silly and wished I could
drop into a conveniently placed hole.
“Romance novels. Don’t worry, I’ve heard all the stereotypes, and have written several first drafts of those.
I’m trying to be a little different, so give me some credit, ok? It‘s mostly for the money, while I work on
bigger, nonfiction works” Dear God, that didn’t sound to bitchy, did it?
“I’ve never been a big fiction reader myself, but I’d be willing to make an exception for you, “ Ben said,
looking too sincere for words. This guy was too good to be true.
The rest of the meal passed quickly, mostly the small talk you’d expect between two sisters and a guy
neither one knew well. The weather, local sports, and politics were front burner. Nothing too personal, but
enough to allow us to get a bit more of a feel for each other. Ben seemed interesting enough, but would he
find me too quirky? I guess the plunge would have to be taken at some point, so I might as well dive right
in. And I wanted to do it before Sarah started to get obvious, motioning with her head, the whole bit.
“It’s been really nice meeting you Ben. Would you like to, I don’t know, go to a movie or something
sometime?” And now I sound lame, and slightly like I‘m still in high school. There’s no winning to this
situation.
‘That would be nice. Here, let me give you my number.” Ben handed me one of his business cards. “Give
me a call later this week, maybe we can get together next weekend.” Sarah showed him out, and I was
finally free to let her know exactly what I thought about this sham of a “three for lunch” date.
Before I could get a word out, Sarah stopped me. “Don’t even get started Gretchen. You know perfectly
well that you wouldn’t have agreed to it if I had told you beforehand, and I think you make a good couple.
Just go out with him once, if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, ok?”
What I wanted to do was strangle her. “Fine. One date. But don’t think that I’ll forget this. Just wait until
I can think up a suitable revenge. Never plot against a writer, you’ll lose. I’m going to go home and try to
forget this afternoon even happened. See you later.” And I walked out the door, finally free of my sister
and her schemes for the day.
I drove back to my own apartment, fully intending on getting back to my book, but my car had other ideas.
Pulling over to the side of the road and sputtering to a stop, I cursed my mechanic. I had just had it in the
shop a month ago, and now if was giving me trouble again. I wondered for the thousandth time this year
whether I should just break down and buy new, but I normally loved my old car. I’d had it since beginning
college, and there were lots of memories embedded in the worn upholstery.
Sighing, I pulled out my cell. I’d just call Sarah and have her come pick me up. The tow truck could wait
until I’d had a moment of sanity.