Gala Ending

When I stop to think about it I wonder if the banquet manager suffered from a headache at the end of it all.

Dinner will be for 300, give or take a dozen.         Easy.

Set up for the silent auction in the same room.      Not a problem to open another section.

Cash bar — writing is thirsty work.          Certainly.

Sound system and podium.       Check.

Oh, one more thing. You need to use the same space converted from lunch to book signing tables. Two hours between the events.

By ones and twos our small group gathers in the room. One lady is a published author. Three of us are on various steps of the lader to publication. (How long is that climb?) And one supportive spouse shares the meal and conversation with us.

Food and drink. Photos. Speaker. Contest winners announced. The weekend event peaks in the ballroom on Saturday night.

The program ends. Conferees chat, check the auction tables, and drift off to their hotel rooms or transportation to nearby homes. In the morning we scatter back to our own homes, loved ones, and thoughts. We’ve work to do. All that knowledge presented needs to soak in and find an outlet in our next written story.

Already the hospitality specialists have set up for the next business meetings, conference, or reception.

 

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