ByTheBecks: Write Up My Alley 1

"Write Up My Alley" Has Moved ...

2008-12-03T14:54:00Z

Due to a few technical problems ... but even more so to the fact that spammers have showed up here, this blog has moved to:
http://bythebecks.blogspot.com/ .

Thank you for stopping by in the past. Please don't give up on me---instead, visit my new site and save it in your favorites!

A Twisted Fairy Tale

2008-08-25T16:40:00Z

Walk this way for my latest blog, "A Twisted Fairy Tale" ...
http://bythebecks.blogspot.com/2008/08/twisted-fairy-tale-by-cindy-beck.html

Not the Colonel's chicken ... by Cindy Beck

2008-07-21T20:12:00Z

Walk this way to this week's blog ....... http://bythebecks.blogspot.com/2008/07/not-colonels-chicken-by-cindy-beck.html

Walk This Way to Read, "Then There Was Lunch" by Cindy Beck

2008-07-08T17:51:00Z

Walk this way to this week's blog......... http://bythebecks.blogspot.com/2008/07/then-there-was-lunch-by-cindy-beck.html

"Heaven Scent" Book Tour Stop

2008-07-01T15:40:00Z

By C. Lynn Beck
© 2008
Keywords: C. Lynn Beck, Heaven Scent, perfume, Rebecca Talley, author, Rebecca, Aldrich Heights, fragrance, blog tour, forgiveness, religion, Liza, Kyle

Liza has it made. At least that’s what it looks like for Aldrich Heights' star basketball player. Yet, life isn’t as golden on the inside as it appears on the outside. Liza feels abandoned by her father, who places work before family. Once upon a time, Liza and her father were close, but now she wonders if he even loves her anymore. Or if she loves him.

Liza’s mother puts her foot down and Liza’s father promises he’ll change and spend more time with them. Just when Liza starts believing him, tragedy strikes. Everything that matters to Liza is gone in one heart-wrenching moment.

Liza’s path to emotional recovery lies in forgiveness. However, she doesn’t see it that way and fights against the very idea … until Kyle, a boy from her high school, introduces Liza to a new religion. With a little help from Kyle—and from above—Liza learns to view the tragedy, and her life, with the right perspective.

Heaven Scent is a touching story that both young women and adults will enjoy. Just be sure to have a box of tissues and family members nearby when you read it—the tissues for the tears, and the family members so you can hug them and feel grateful that they’re with you.

------

Rebecca Cornish Talley, author of Heaven Scent, is not only an excellent writer but also a good sport. She's kindly agreed to let me interview her at a “virtual” beach in California.

Rebecca, thank you for joining me on this sunny day at the ocean. I know you love the beach and lived in California as a young girl. Since other interviews have already covered the technical reasons for why and how you wrote Heaven Scent, I thought I’d ask a few personal questions today.

1. If you wouldn’t mind, why don’t you start by telling us what the beach here looks like?

It might be hard to find this particular beach in CA since it’s tucked away in a secret cove, but the water is a brilliant turquoise and so clear I can see my feet. No seaweed tangling around my legs, thankfully. The water temperature is ideal, too. Cool enough to be refreshing, but warm enough to soothe. The clean, soft, white sand feels like satin under my feet and perfectly-shaped seashells wait along the shore for me to add to my collection. The shoreline seems to run forever in either direction and the sky is a pale blue with wisps of clouds gently moving across its great expanse while waves lap soothingly against the shore.

2. That’s such a cute bathing suit you’re wearing. No one would ever guess you had ten kids! If you could design an ideal bathing suit, what would it look like?

It’d mystically take off 20 pounds, and 20 years, when you wear it, slim you in the middle and give definition up top. It’d be available in iridescent colors that change to match your mood (kind of like the old mood rings) and every time you looked in the mirror, you’d see your inner beauty and strength.

3. In other interviews, you’ve said that your initial inspiration for Heaven Scent came from a distinctive perfume your mom used to wear. You often smelled it in the air, during difficult times, even though your mom had passed away. What are your favorite smells at the ocean?

Green apple bubblegum, coconut suntan lotion, and deep fried taquitos. I also love the smell of saltwater on my skin.

4. You’ve mentioned that your love of basketball was another source of inspiration for the book. You can’t play basketball here in the sand, so what games do you like to play at the beach?

The best games are Chase (the seagulls), Tag (with the waves), and Hide-and-Go-Seek (with the sand crabs).

5. Since you live on a farm and have a number of animals, what’s your favorite saltwater animal? And why?

Seals are my favorite saltwater animals because they’re so playful and friendly. I also enjoy watching them swim next to the boats and sun themselves on the buoys. Getting a seal to smile is especially fun, too.

6. Ooo, I notice you’re cooking something over there. Is that a hibachi? A crock-pot? (Hey, this is a virtual beach … so Rebecca can have a crock-pot if she wants!) Or a bonfire? And what is it that I smell cooking?

S’mores. Roasted, gooey marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate—what more do you need? That’s a balanced meal, right? So it must be a bonfire. And we're singing Primary songs around it 'cause I love Primary songs.

7. I see quite a few young women around. You once said you’ve worked with many young women over the years and that’s why Heaven Scent was written for a YA audience. Are these young women here from your church, or are they your family? Why don’t you tell us a little bit about them? (No names, please, we don’t want any stalkers showing up at our beach party!

They’re my daughters and my nieces (12 altogether). Aren’t they beautiful? Some sing, some perform, some draw pictures, some make crafts. Some are tall, some are small, some have long hair, some have short, some have blue eyes, some have hazel, some are shy and some are not. Most of all, they’re daughters of our Heavenly Father who want to live with him again someday.

8. Well, Rebecca, I can see the sun is starting to set, so it’s time to pull on a sweatshirt, sit in the warm sand, and watch the sun slide below the horizon. Why don’t you give us a little detail on what colors we’re seeing tonight and how the sunset makes you feel?

I can see the sun’s reflection dancing along the water as it paints the sky in hues of pink, orange, and red. The gentleness of the sun slipping below the horizon makes me realize that as one days ends, another will begin again, and that there is order in all of God’s creations.

Rebecca, thanks for your time and for allowing me to interview you. It’s been a wonderful visit, and I think your readers have enjoyed this personal glimpse into your life. You’re a talented author, your book is terrific, and the story grabbed me by the heart. Thanks so much for writing Heaven Scent.

Thank you, Cindy, for interviewing me here on our virtual beach. It’s been a blast!

Error, Does Not Compute

2008-06-25T15:12:00Z

I don't know about your computer, but mine is trying to take over the world! To find out what happened, walk this way to this week's blog. > > > http://bythebecks.blogspot.com/2008/06/error-does-not-compute-by-cl-beck.html

Walk this way ... to my other blogsite.

2008-06-16T19:41:00Z

For various reasons that only a person who is certifiably nuts could understand, I've started several blogsites ... they seem to be addictive, and once you start one, you come up with all kinds of reasons to start another.

And then you realize you're supposed to actually post words at each one, not just go out and admire the cute things you said in your profile.

And after that, you discover that not a single one of them has all the capabilities that you need. Arrrggg!

There you have it ... the long and short of it.

I love this site, but unfortunately, of all my sites, this one fits my needs the least. For that reason, from here on out, I'll be posting actual words at my other blogsite. All that I'll post here is the link to that site.

Since I have subscribers at this blog (thanks for being the faithful readers that you are , I'll post the link for the blog every Monday, so you can simply click and go there. And it will still have humorous articles. Well, that's what they're supposed to be anyway ... humorous!

Here are today's wacky thoughts:
http://bythebecks.blogspot.com/2008/06/license-plate-frame-slogans-and-chance.html

Weirdness in the Universe

2008-06-09T18:51:00Z

By C.L. Beck
© 2008

The universe we currently reside in is filled with weirdness, and it only seems to be getting weirder. I came to that realization the other day after eating some mixed nuts. It prompted me to make a list of the illogical things in life.

I can buy peanuts in a jar. Why, then, do they insist on filling the can of mixed nuts with mostly peanuts? Hey, if I wanted peanuts, I’d go buy peanuts.
A stop light turns yellow to signal it’s going to turn red, and drivers should prepare to stop. Why, then, does it only stay yellow for a tenth of a second? Even Mario Andretti couldn’t stop a car in that amount of time.
I spent a lot of years listening to the television telling me to get an education. Now that I’ve gotten one, everything uses symbols. What … they think I can’t read? And exactly what does a rectangle with a big X through it really mean?
The dials and knobs in my car are part of my safety features. Why, then, do they contain symbols the size of a gnat? I’d need to use a magnifying glass to see them. By the time I hauled it out and got the symbols in focus, I’d be upside down in a ditch.
Laptop computers sound like they should sit in your lap. The other day my hubby was working with it in his lap and the computer overheated and locked up. It took hours to get the thing to shut down. Re-reading instructions, we found out that a lap is soft and covers the cooling vents, so the machine is supposed to sit on something firm. And the reason they call it a “laptop” is …?
Toasters used to cook the bread so it was golden on both sides. Now it comes out brown on only one side. How could something as simple as toast get goofed? Maybe the engineers didn’t have a magnifying glass to decipher those little gnat-sized symbols that told them how to build it.
Let’s not neglect the writing world. Using a computer saves precious time, which can then be used for writing that award winning novel. Oh wait, see number 5 above.

I’ve often heard it said that you should save your work every few minutes. I chose to do just that. I saved this blog to my computer and for double insurance decided I should print a hard copy. I clicked a button displaying a symbol that I hoped meant “print”. The machine made a click and paper scrolled through. (Wow, did I really guess right?) Then the paper jammed, the machine clunked, and it squirted ink everywhere.

And the reason they call it a printer is ... ?

What's playing on my radio: Private Eyes by Hall and Oates
What's playing on my TV: Nothing
What's playing in my head: Same as what's on the radio

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Aging Gray Matter

2008-06-04T03:32:00Z

I was sitting here, stymied for something to write, and thought I'd pop over to my other blog, Write Up My Alley 2, and see if anything over there inspired me.

When I opened my blogger dashboard, the draft version of a blog called, The Scarlet Letter? was listed. Yes, that's right. The Scarlet Letter, with a question mark on the end. The author was C.L. Beck. Yup, me. Only I don't remember writing that blog.

I never even liked the book. Why would I write a blog about it? Had it been written by gremlins? Had a hacker spent day and night, cracking my password in order to write about ... of all things ... The Scarlet Letter?

So, I opened it. I won't bore you to death giving you all the details because ... well, mainly because all it said in the text box was "The Scarlet Letter?"

Nothing else.

The moral of the story is that as you get older, your memory is such that you can hide your own Easter eggs. And you never have to come up with a new blog topic. You just write the same one over and over and think it's new.

Wait! I just had a fantastic thought! Check back next week, when I intend to write a whole new blog about the book, The Scarlet Letter.

And have a happy Easter, everyone.

What's playing on my radio: Nothing
What's playing on my TV: Nothing
What's playing in my head: Just the loud buzz of somene's lawn mower as they cut the grass outside my window. Okay, now there's a song, Grazing in the Grass by The Friends of Distinction

------

Missed Monday

2008-06-04T03:25:00Z

It's Tuesday. And yup, I missed getting a blog out yesterday. But have no fear ... one is on the way!

Tidy Whities

2008-05-26T00:51:00Z

Have you noticed the latest fad? People go every place in their pajamas. They're even at WalMart at 3:00 in the afternoon in fuzzy slippers and flannel PJs.

If we're talking casual dress, though, I can top that. With my very own eyes, I've seen a neighbor run out in his underwear to move his water sprinkler. Honest, I'm not making this up. And no, it wasn't the dead of night. It happened in the middle of the day.

Exactly what is the Emily Post/Miss Manners etiquette when you see your neighbor out in his tidy whities? Are you supposed to greet him cheerily, and act as if he's not wearing underwear? No wait, that didn't some out right. What I meant is, are you supposed to act as if he's wearing clothes and not just underwear?

"Oh hi, Roger. Nice day today. Think it's going to rain?" you say, while studiously studying the sky and ignoring his lack of clothing.

Or is it more socially correct to acknowledge the situation and compliment his underwear? "Hey Roger, nice jockey shorts. Do they come in pink?"

When it happened, I wondered if I was dreaming. But then I knew that couldn't be true, because if it was a dream, I'd be the one standing outside in my underwear.

Only I'd have been a lot more embarassed about it.

Adventures Over the Rain Forest

2008-05-20T04:19:00Z

By C. L. Beck
© 2008

CeeLynn tightened the harness to her parachute. A feeling akin to tiny kangaroos bouncing back and forth churned in her stomach, and excitement caused her fingertips to tingle. She wasn't afraid—not a whit. Jumping from an airplane and floating over the top of the rain forest was exhilarating ... adrenaline spiking ... and technically speaking (in case the IRS was reading), research for her upcoming novel.

She stood in the open doorway of the plane and gazed at the blue horizon, where the curvature of the earth arched with the grace of an angel's halo. The sight was so achingly beautiful that for a second, she wondered if she would become an angel when she stepped out the door.

One.

Two.

Three!

"I love being a writer!" she yelled, as she stepped out into nothingness. . . .

Or maybe she yelled "Geronimo." In my writer's fantasy, the wind was whipping past my ears so fast that I couldn't quite tell what she said as we both plummeted toward the earth.

Speaking of fantasies, a writer's life is not all it's cracked up to be in the movies. Case in point—the other day I posted a blog for YourLDSNeighborhood.com. It was one that I'd carefully crafted and painstakingly proofed. The link for it went live on Thursday.

The blog disappeared on Friday.

No, I'm not making this up. When that happened, I neither yelled, "I love being a writer," nor "Geronimo." I think what I yelled was more like "Oh, crap!"

Ah yes, another myth debunked. When something goes wrong, writers don't generally use poetic prose like, "Alas and alack, methinks my blog is missing." Sometimes I'm so perturbed over computer glitches that I actually say, "Oh, dang!" Which on the almost-swear-words-ometer is into the danger zone.

I want you to know, however, that I did outsmart the computer in the end. In a flash of brilliance (you'll notice I use sarcasm in my writing), I re-posted the entire blog. Ta-da! Humans 2, computer 1!

And now, although I'd like to stay and discuss the story of CeeLynn and her headlong dive into the rain forest canopy, I can't. The computer is being persnickety ... and alas and alack, methinks I'd better post this blog!

Your LDS Neighborhood- What if it's Boring?

2008-05-12T22:32:00Z

Tomorrow will be my two-week anniversary. Yes, I set my blog up almost two weeks ago, and I’m still in love with it. But, lest you think it was an easy relationship, let me tell you how it started. . .

“The ones that died were the optimists,” I heard my husband, Russ, say to my son on the phone. I found myself hoping he was in reference to someone other than guests who ate my cooking. As it turned out, he was talking about prisoners of war. It seems the ones who did the best in difficult conditions were the realistic optimists.

As a realistic optimist, I felt encouraged by that thought. It meant I was bound to succeed with my latest brilliant scheme—my own author’s blog site, which would eventually be linked to Your LDS Neighborhood.com, a site for Latter-day Saints with wholesome, intelligent articles, and innovative products and services.

My mind brimmed with realism—millions of people blog! It overflowed with optimism—with millions of people blogging, how hard could it be to set it up?

Russ and I sat down together to work on it. The first thing the site building program wanted to know was a name. “Which name?” I asked Russ. “My full name, last name, pen name or a name for the blog?”

He drummed his fingers lightly on the keyboard. “I don’t know; just give it any name and we’ll change it later, if necessary.”

“No! What if I name it something boring and it’s locked in for eternity?” My voice rose in panic; my blood pressure shot up and my face turned red at the thought. Either that or I had a hot flash. Regardless, I did not want to end up with a site named something really mundane, like “My Space.”

After pondering for a few minutes, I picked “The Write Stuff.” I thought it was unique. Yahoo thought there were 456 million other people already using that name.

My husband liked “Writer’s Cramp”, which according to another search on the venerable Yahoo only had 448, 000 entries. Unfortunately, the word "cramp" made me think of female troubles, so we tossed it out, too. Searching “writer’s cramp” wasn’t time wasted, however. Yahoo said that writer’s cramp could be cured with a shot of Botox. Ooo, how handy, erase my wrinkles and cure a muscle spasm in one swift injection. I filed the information away in my brain.

Russ became bored with the naming process, opened another screen on his laptop and began playing a game where squatty little people shot at each other and screamed as they died. It made matters worse. I started coming up with names like, “Point Your Gun Write at Me” and “Blood Running in the Streets” … which, in case you didn’t notice, doesn’t even have the word “write” in it.

After an hour of trying different monikers, I finally came up with a decent one for the site—Write Up My Alley. At least, it seemed decent. If not, it was just too bad, because after trying out names for an hour, my hand was locked in a writer’s cramp.

It was worth all that searching, though. I’d figured out what worked and what didn’t.

All that was left was to find someone to loan me some Botox.

What's playing on my radio: Nothing
What's playing on my TV: Nothing
What's playing in my head: Love Will Keep Us Together by Captain and Tennille

(Return to Your LDS Neighborhood!)

This blog sponsored by Your LDS Neighborhood. Please visit there to show your appreciation.

Your LDS Neighborhood--A Rose by Any Other Name

2008-05-06T22:47:00Z

In Romeo and Juliet, Juliet says, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

That’s easy for her to say. Her mother didn’t name her Ima Hogg or Candy Cane. Juliet might’ve sung a different tune if her last name was Passwater and Romeo’s was Horsepucky.

I’m not kidding, those are real names. Okay, I’ll admit that I made up Horsepucky. The other names, however, belong to living, breathing people . . . or maybe dead ones who used to breathe.

My nickname is Cindy. As a kid, I was certain it was easily spelled. My dream world shattered after I got married and a letter arrived addressed to Rose Beck. Rose Beck? There weren’t any other Becks around, much less a Rose blooming nearby. My husband, Russ, found it so humorous he called me that for years. You can imagine my son’s confusion when he’d find a Christmas present addressed to Rose.

Mail began arriving with other crazy variations. Once, an envelope arrived addressed to Sin Beck. I hid it before Russ could show it to everyone in the ward.

The worst goof was on a jacket. I took medical technology courses in college and class members decided to have personalized, matching jackets. Money was in short supply for my family. We had this weird compulsion about having food on the table at regular intervals. Fortunately, a check arrived for my birthday, just covering the cost. I agonized over requesting my first name or my full name on the jacket.

After deciding on my full name (which would hold up in a court of law in case the jacket ever got stolen), I awaited its arrival. The day came. We opened the box in class. The class president read the name on each jacket while handing them out. Coming to the last one, he called, “Cinky Beck.”

It took a minute before I realized that was mine. I groaned as I took it.

At home that night, we conferred about what to do. Since the jacket was personalized, it wasn’t returnable. Was there any way to fix the goof? We considered putting tape over it, praying over it, or cutting the name out entirely. Finally, Russ hit on a solution. “If you take one of those sewing ripper thingies, you could pull out the first name and just leave the last name.”

My son, Dave, looked at it closely and with the wisdom of an eight-year-old said, “Or you could pull out the ‘C’ and we could call you Inky.” I wasn’t about to follow his suggestion, but I was glad he said it—I needed the laugh. Within minutes the seam ripper did its work and for twenty years after I wore a jacket with ‘C (space, space, space, space, space) Beck’ on it.

My name surely couldn’t get more goofed than Cinky, right? Years later, I submitted an article with a by-line of C. L. Beck. Unfortunately, I signed the email as Cindy. On the day of publication, the by-line at the publisher’s website read, “Cidny Beck.”

Latter-day Saints are supposed to forgive. I did. However, it dawned on me that some people might read the ‘c’ as a ‘k’ sound. In which case, my name would be pronounced “Kidney.”

Ouch, Kidney—the ultimate insult. I can tolerate being a Rose by any other name, but a Kidney? I don’t think so. If I have to choose, I’ll go with my son’s suggestion—there’s no doubt I’d be much better off as an Inky.

(Return to the Neighborhood!)

For those of you who subscribe ... sorry about the multiple posts

2008-05-05T16:22:00Z

For those of you who subscribe to my blog, thanks! And sorry if you got multiple posts that came through to you this morning. The blog program's editor had a gremlin and threw different font styles in. How rude of it, huh? And it took me a bit to correct it.

Trippers

2008-05-05T14:57:00Z

The world is filled with trippers. A tripper can fall, flip or trip over just about anything, including ants. Some trippers even manage a trip while driving the car. (No pun intended. )

Many years ago, a date and I were driving through the parking lot of a bowling alley. Since he was at the wheel and we were in a parking lot, I didn't see any need for both of us to watch the wide-open asphalt. I turned my attention to singing with the radio, and the next thing I knew, wham, bam, clunk, clunk!

I looked over at him and asked with alarm, "What happened?"

"Nothing," he said sheepishly.

"Nothing? That couldn't have been nothing! Did the engine fall out?" I asked, peering out the car's window.

"No."

I cocked my head, trying to figure out what had taken place. "Did we run over something? Maybe an eighteen-wheeler or a cement mixer?"

"No, not really."

Every woman knows that when a man says, "Not really," it means, "Yes, really."

"So, what did we not really run over?" I replied.

"Um, one of those concrete parking thingies that are at the front of each parking spot." His face flushed red with embarrassment.

I was confused. He was driving through the lot, not trying to park. I looked around. There was plenty of open, easily navigated space. "I don't get it. How in the world did you run over one of the parking barriers?"

The red on his face deepened. "You're so cute that I was watching you instead of where we were going, and I accidentally ran over one of them. Or maybe two."

He ran over something while watching me? How romantic! What a sweet guy.

I figured driving over a parking barrier was just a freak mishap, so, I married him, anyway. To this day, he still drives over things, falls into ditches, and generally can't put one foot straight in front of the other. And after 36 years of marriage, it can't be because he's always admiring me.

I love him, but there's only one conclusion I can come to after that many years of mishaps. Yup, he's a tripper.

What's playing on my radio: Nothing
What's playing on my TV: Nothing
What's playing in my head: Simply Irresistible by Robert Palmer

What Was the First Thought in Your Head?

2008-05-02T15:29:00Z

The time has come to ask a soul-searching question: What was the first thought in your head when you got out of bed this morning?

I've always felt the first reflection of the day should be a noble one--a thought that would serve mankind, promote world peace, cure cancer, or engineer a way to drain the calories from Hostess Twinkies while still leaving the creamy white centers intact.

Unfortunately, my brain never cooperates in that arena ... which explains why the Twinkies are still loaded with carbs and fat.

Today my mind woke up singing this song:
As coroner, I must aver, I thoroughly examined her
And she's not only merely dead, she's really, most sincerely dead.

It's from The Wizard of Oz, and ah, yes, what a way to start the day. Singing about dead people. The one consolation is that I'm only singing about a dead witch, not actually seeing one.

When you get a minute, drop me a note and tell me what your first thought was upon waking. Or your last thought before going to bed. Or any thought you can recall. Regardless of what it is, I won't laugh.

Okay, so maybe I lied about not laughing, but I promise to keep it to a muffled giggle--most likely because my mouth will be stuffed with Twinkies.

What's playing on my radio: Who's Holding Donna Now? By DeBarge
What's playing on my TV: Nothing
What's playing in my head: Same song as above, at least until it's finished. Then I'll probably be back to the "coroner song".

Welcome!

2008-04-29T20:19:00Z

Welcome to Write Up My Alley, the blog page for author, C.L. Beck.

First, let me say that I'm also C. Lynn Beck and C.K. Beck. Uh-huh. I know what you're thinking, "Oh boy, this writer has a multiple personality disorder!" Naw, I just have several pseudonyms. To be truthful, I'll answer to almost any name, including Hey You ... although, I've never actually written a book with that byline.

Second, it seems now might be the time to mention that, although C. Lynn Beck is perfectly capable of writing serious, adult stuff ... oops, that sounds bad ... serious, grown-up stuff, C.L. Beck and C.K. Beck are much more fun and will probably do most of the blogs. Not all, but most. After all, one of the three will need to announce upcoming books, write book reviews, and act like a responsible adult.

So, there you have it. I've told you all about myself, without really telling you anything much at all.

Oh, one more thing. There should be a new blog out here at least once a week, on Monday. With a little luck there might even be two a week. But any more than that would be stretching it.

Thanks for stopping by to read. If you have a moment, please leave a comment. I'd love to hear from you!

What's playing on my radio: Nothing
What's playing on my TV: Nothing
What's playing in my head: Daniel, by Elton John (And I don't even like that song. Ack! An earworm!)