Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas!

Today is the 24th of December in the year 2016.
I want to wish everyone the best holiday season and a Happy New Year.

As we are about to start a new year, I just wanted to give a little message of encouragement.  For those who know me personally, will know that I love making New Year's resolutions.  A favorite of mine is quitting soda.  I made it all the way to August in 2016!
For 2017, I'm still debating with myself on what I'm going to try changing and improving on.  Primarily the focus will be on writing and how I can get myself noticed and accepted by a good publishing company.  Other areas I might make some resolutions on will be physical, spiritual, and mental. (Coving all the bases, so to speak)
The wonderful thing about the New Year is the start over.  Of course anyone can make changes at anytime during the year, but there is something special about starting out fresh on the first of January.  Maybe it is the artist side, but I tend to get sentimental during this time.  I look back on the year, whether it played out good or bad.  It gives me the proper perspective as I look ahead.
So if you stay awake on the 31st to ring in the new year or decided to get a good night rest for the first day of 2017, think back on the past year and be excited on all the possibilities the future brings.
Thank you for reading!

-beck

Suddenly Feels Write

Posted: December 23, 2016

I have just completed my work year.  After saying my goodbyes and wishing my coworkers much love as we part for the close of 2016, I feel a surge of emotions.
On my drive home I thought of many things.  I thought of my work.
I realized that while I enjoy my factory very much, (It has a calming effect.  Repeating the same motions over and over allows me to clear my head and explore my creativity.) I am beginning to see myself in a different light.  Suddenly I realize my mind's eye is slowly changing.  The more I write, and the more I develop my stories, my self perspective is shifting.
Six months ago, if someone came up to me asking what I did for a living, I would have described my work at the factory, rather proudly.  Presently if asked, I would tell them I was a writer.
Before I might have been ashamed to say this, mainly from the fact that I have not published any work.  This brought a little embarrassment.
But I am proud now.  So what if I haven't published.  I can keep carrying on.  Edison did not invent the light bulb on the first try.  Why give up, why be ashamed?  An inventor is a good example, because they will try over and over at many failed attempts.  Still they call themselves inventors.
There is nothing wrong with being creative and having nothing to show for it.  If it is your job, keep plugging away at it.  If the talent is there, and should be utilized.  Many great writers never even published or received recognition for their work while they were alive.
If I desire recognition for work that is complete... well then I would have poor work indeed.  I'm not going to rush this.  I will write right, and in my own time.
This year is coming to an end.  A year very hard on many.  I will always remember 2016 as difficult, but also enlightening.  I started up my writing career, I'm learning many things, and I have a great desire to keep it going.
Thank you to all of my readers.  I could not do this without you.  Now that I consider myself a writer, I will continue to hone my skills.  I plan on staying around for quite a while.

A Bit of Unfair Luck - Part III

Posted: December 21, 2016

Jo held her breath for a moment and stood rooted to her spot, uncertain of the next move.  She needed to be careful.  Social interaction, her least favorite part of life, was needed from here on out.  Jo knew this.

This stranger, who was sweating from his vigorous efforts, completely ignored her presence.  He wore a black shirt, which matched his black hair.  His face already forgotten, Jo studied the back of his head looking for clues on how to engage this distracted man.

On and on he swung the ax, until he finally achieved his goal.  The seat broke from the back, and released the belt, which had been holding a small passenger.

Luckily the dark axman spoke first.  He stated between breaths, “Come over here, and grab this kid.”

Jo pushed her brow down in confusion.  Out of curiosity, she moved without hesitation to see what he meant.  Sure enough, there on the seat sat a small boy.  His head hung down without any support.  Jo gasped in shock, thinking him dead.

“Are you strong enough to lift him?”

Jo nodded her head without a thought as she stared at the child.

The axman answered her nod, “Good, watch his head and take him over to that row, by the boxes.”

“What?” Jo whispered.

Her eyes followed the direction his arm gave towards a row of bodies that were lined down the beach.  Another shock hit her as she roughly counted nine or ten people laying side by side on the sand.  Unsure of the situation a hundred questions grew in her mind.  She wondered why she did not notice them before.  Maybe she blocked them out, unable to face the reality.

The axman must have read her face.  He answered her unspoken questions quickly, “We have to move fast.  There are still others.  Surprisingly some are alive.  A lot I guess are dead too.  I need your help.  The boxes over there I found…. they have medical stuff in them.  I don’t know how to use them.  Maybe you do.  I’m sure you can find something to help them.  I’m going to keep looking for more people, I’ll call you when I’m ready for you to help me.  Now take him, and figure out things over there.  Can you do that?”

Jo listened to his commands.  She nodded again, just to get him away from her.  In her heart, Jo wanted to run away, but in her mind, she knew she must join this stranger and become a hero.

-Beck

https://www.facebook.com/suzannebeckintheopen/

Flying

Posted: December 7, 2016

Flying

Have you ever wished to fly

Way up in that clear blue sky

See your feet rise off the floor

Spread your wings and start to soar

Wishing that you would never leave

Flying past the tall green trees

High above the clouds you'll go

Over mountains topped with snow

Never seen a moon so bright

As you fly in the night

Never have you gone so far

In the sky of shooting stars

-beck

A Bit of Unfair Luck - Part II

Posted: December 6, 2016

 

Jo assumed no one else survived.  She stayed awake most of the night, in hopes of rescue, and heard nothing from the wreckage.  The noise coming from the torn-up carcass gave hope.  No longer alone to face the future, she felt her reality beginning to hit.

Tears rolled down her bruised cheek.  Along with the heat of the sun, Jo felt hot all over.  The experience of the crash replayed in her head for the first time since it happened.  She brushed the horrid visual pictures aside.

The other human life needed help.

As she stumbled to stand she crushed the little castles she thoughtlessly molded.  Jo pushed down on her stomach, as she walked though bits and pieces of debris.  The tolerable pain was a small testament.  Jo knew her luck.

The banging grew louder the closer she arrived.  Her heart beat nervously.  An infinite amount of possibilities played in her head.  As a natural worrier, she always ended up using her wild imagination for the worst.

What if they are missing a leg?  What if they are crushed and I have to watch them die?  Why are they now making noise?  Who could it be?  I pray it isn’t a child.  I remember seeing a kid or two on the plane.  I can’t think of it.  I just need to get to them.  Help if I can.

Her thoughts trailed off.  She spoke aloud, “Hello?  Where are you?  I’m here.  Hello?”

The response surprised her.  Nothing.  The banging stopped abruptly.

Jo, not wanting to get to close, closed her eyes.  Some dead passengers remained strapped in their seats.  A couple empty seats tore out of the cabin and scattered around the beach along with other parts of the plane.  Their passengers gone, quite possibly out into the ocean.  The thought gave her chills up and down her back.

About to call out, the banging started up again.  This allowed her to pinpoint the source.  She determined the noise came from the other side of the fallen aircraft.  She reluctantly made the decision to pass through the wreckage for a quicker route.  To walk around the entire plane would take several minutes.  She picked the least morbid path and proceed carefully, hoping not to see or touch anything that would push her into shock.

After some rough climbing and a few misplaced steps, she successfully planted her feet back down onto the sand.  It seemed colder on this side.  The sun slipped behind some clouds for cover.

About 40 feet away, a man stood looking at her.  After a few seconds, he returned to his work.  He used the ax he held to slice through the air and into the back of a passenger seat.

-Beck

https://www.facebook.com/suzannebeckintheopen/

Salvation

Posted: December 5, 2016

Salvation

Beyond the mountains, beyond the trees,

Beyond the clouds, Where there is no breeze.

I go to find myself

Instead I find my needed help

To God's open arms I go

He shows me all I need to know

About my sins and evil deed

I ask for forgiveness with earnest plead.

To know I failed the Lord of all

With regretful heart to my knees I fall

"Lord, all my life I was a waste.

How can I make up for my mistakes?"

"Because of all the sin you've done

I will have to send my Son.

'It is finished' He will say

On that sad and gloomy day

When He gives His life for you

All of prophesy will come true

My only Son laid down His life

So that sinners could be freed from strife

Now all you must do is except my gift

And pray that all your sins I'll lift

Upon the tree I'll lay your wrongs

Then all the angels will join in songs"

"How I love my Lord above

That he would give me His great love

Now I've got a home in glory

So I must go and tell the Story"

A Bit of Unfair Luck - Part I

Posted: December 5, 2016

A Bit of Unfair Luck

Week One:

The sun soaked into her skin as Jo rested on the sand.  Peace came to her soul in that moment and she felt a silence deep inside, all the while, ocean water crashed up onto the shore.  She found paradise.  About two hundred yards away chaos and destruction lay from the day before.

The plane crash occurred around 2:05 pm on Saturday.  Today Jo would have known it to be 3:30 pm, Sunday.  Time, an inconsequential factor, did not matter now.

She took a breath.  The ocean breeze blew into her nostrils and told her promises of safety.  For now, she felt calm.  For now, she felt relaxed.

Jo loved the shore.  Memories from her childhood revisited her mind.  She thought of her grandfather and her mother.  Often her guardians from long ago brought her to where the water meets the land.

She hummed a tune she remembered her grandfather whistling, as she pushed together small mounds of sand, making pitiful castles.

A sound from the wreck, caused Jo to turn her head up.

-Beck

https://www.facebook.com/suzannebeckintheopen/

the mime - part three

Posted: October 21, 2016

Part Three

The two girl led the way once they all exited from the underground tunnels and soon found themselves entering a quaint coffee shop.  This gave Tanner the chance to escape for some much needed privacy inside the shop’s restrooms.

Once he closed and locked the door he rushed to the mirror.  Peering at his reflection in hopes to find an answer, the young man could only see his normal makeup.  Nothing gave way to those unusual events that had led him this far.  He could not explain how he took down that thief on the subway, how he could not speak, or how he pulled a mysterious rose from his pocket.  He laid down his bag, rolled up his sleeves, and began washing the white from his face.

Down the drain in a spiral went the cover of Tanner’s true face.  Suddenly his heart began to beat strongly in his chest.  It was a feeling he couldn’t explain.  His breath was lost and he longed to be covered again behind that mask.

He dried his face and after looked through his bag for the jar which held the white makeup.  He bought the jar from a typical costume place he found, called Playtime Dress.  Examining the jar from every angle, he read all the words carefully in case he missed something.  He would not be surprised he there was some magical inscription.  Nothing was found.

The only thing he realized was the date on the bottom.  That day the jar had become…

expired.

-Beck

https://www.facebook.com/suzannebeckintheopen/

the mime - part two

Posted: October 20, 2016

Part Two

This action alone caused the young entertainer to stand to his feet.  What put the idea of apprehending the questionable thug into this lady’s head was beyond him.  All he knew was he had to help now.  Trusting that everything could possibly go wrong, Tanner took a step in their direction, selfless and helpless.

Ali had pushed open the man’s jacket in hopes to find her friend’s missing item, but was shocked to find nothing.  The inside of his long coat contained a button down shirt tucked into pleated pants, one size too large.  A belt held them in place.

This confused Ali immediately, and she glanced up at the man, who returned her brash actions with an indubitably sour complexion.

“No, that can’t be.  Where is it?  I saw you put it inside your coat.  Look here you have pockets in here,” the blonde started to reach into one of the many pockets that lined the inside.

This immediately agitated the man, who began to take some action of his own.  The man, grabbed her wrist and flicked it away quickly and closed his coat apprehensively, then spoke, “Hey, you need to back off lady, or you will be sorry,” pointing a finger in her face.

This all happened about the time Tanner came to place himself between the two parties.  He froze in his spot once he realized the size of the man.  The supposed thief stood taller once Tanner made his challenge.  This was going to hurt.

The man yelled, “What is this?  Get out of my way, you stupid mime.  What are you going to do?  Make a pretend wall?”

The next few seconds happened so fast that Tanner couldn’t even quite remember it all.  The man went to push Tanner aside and resume the confrontation with Ali, but Tanner instinctively put two hands up, raising one hand before the other, like he had been doing all day.  Closing his eyes tight, Tanner only heard a loud bang and then a cheer from the girls behind him and from the crowd of people around him in the subway car.

Opening his eyes, he looked down to see the man, at his feet.  The shady man looked upset, but he was down.  Tanner smiled at the crowd and, like an entertainer, gave a quirky bow.  He contemplated blowing a few kisses to his audience, but instead lifted his hat, placed it on the ground for a few tips.  Then he reached to the man, opened up the coat, and retrieved for the stolen item.

Silently he smiled at the brunette and in a playful way handed her what was taken.

Ali rolled her eyes and said, “Listen, you aren’t in Central Park.  Enough with the theatrics.”

The blushing girl answered Ali’s rude remark as she closed her bag, “Oh leave him alone, he is just doing what comes natural.  And when you are in that kind of makeup… well, I can understand staying in character.  But the way you hit that guy, I am impressed.  You don’t look like the type to throw a punch.”

Tanner just smiled, happy for their attention.

With a girlish kick to the man on the ground, Ali spit out a few words.

She is like a guard dog for this beautiful princess. Tanner thought.

“Listen, my name is Dee, and this is Alison.  Do you wanna get coffee real quick.  So I can thank you?”

Tanner choked in his throat.  He tried very hard to say, “Yes, yes, yes!  A thousand times, yes!”  The words could not come out.  He couldn’t even cough.  His throat was dry and unable to move.

A laugh came from Dee, “Oh man, Ali, he is so dedicated!  I like that, I like that a lot.  Listen, I don’t wanna mess you up.  Let’s go to a shop I know, you can wash up there.  Then we can talk.”

Without even thinking first, Tanner reached into his pockets, and pulled out a deep red rose.  He handed it to his lady.

Where did that come from? Tanner questioned himself, for the rose he never placed in his pocket.  It seemed to come from nowhere but his mind.

-Beck

https://www.facebook.com/suzannebeckintheopen/

the mime

Posted: October 19, 2016 

Part One

Tanner Pitch, a young man of habit, found himself in the most unusual of lifestyles.  Thankfully for him, the way home to his tiny apartment started out the same way as any other night besides the fact he decided today that he would keep his makeup on.  The makeup might help him earn a few extra dollars which he so desperately needed.

He was travelling inside a subway car below the city of New York.  The little car carried fewer passengers at this time of night.  The comparison was staggering to the massive amount of morning commuters when he began his usual day at his work.  His work involved entertainment.

When he first moved to New York City, Tanner’s big plans were quickly crushed after his funds for acting classes no longer existed.  Life in the ‘Big Apple’ became a burden and he desired very much to escape back to the life he once knew.

Out of boredom from the game he played, he lifted his head from his phone to look around.  About fifteen women, and ten men surrounded him.  Two young women, talking and laughing near the back end of the car, caught his attention.  They both were very attractive.  One blonde and the other brunette.  The brunette’s eyes were clear and bright.  Deep brown.  He couldn’t help but stare.

The blonde noticed his unwarranted attention and glared angrily back at him.  He couldn’t hear what she spoke, but he got the idea.  Reading her lips, he made out a, “What are you looking at?”

Dropping his head quickly in embarrassment, he acted busy on his phone.  After a few moments, he stole another glance at the two, just to see the brown headed girl.  They were back in conversation.  He lost their interest just as quickly as he had gained it.

That was New York for you.  Nobody cared about anyone else, especially on the subway.  They all were jam packed into this tiny metal coffin flying through lighted tunnels, and nobody cared about anyone except themselves.  Tanner cared for nobody either.  His parents were killed not just three months before.  He had no siblings, no grandparents, and all his aunts and uncles lived out of state and out of mind.

This arrangement seemed to please him.  He felt alone, but to him, the freedom helped keep his head clear.  The goal he set for himself was about a year away.  Gather enough money and escape to a suburb outside of the city.  He needed a car and a better job, all in good time.  For now, he would go to the best tourist spots, and perform as best he could for the dollars that would support him through the summer.

Tanner wanted to get lost again in his game, but he heard commotion coming from the back of the car.  The blonde was shouting rather loudly at another passenger.  The brunette was standing back looking shocked and almost afraid.  The young man looked around to see if anyone else was taking noticed.  A few were looking in their direction, but no one intervened.

He heard the blonde yell wildly, “No, I saw you!  You took that right out of my friend’s bag!  Give it back!  I saw you!”

The man, who wore an unusual choice of a long trench coat for the beginning of summer, raised his hands in defense, “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady.  I’m just minding my business like everyone else.”

“You brushed up against her!  I saw you take it as plain as day!  You are a –”

“Ali, please, it’s ok.  I got everything,” the brunette interrupted her friend.

Ali, the blonde, could not except this for an answer.  She was as bold and daring as it came.  Without a second thought she grabbed the man’s coat and opened it up to reveal what was inside.

-Beck

https://www.facebook.com/suzannebeckintheopen/

Climbing the Walls

Posted: October 18, 2016

Now that I have brought up just three problems a writer will face when creating something great, I will express my own ideas on how to overcome these blockades.  I am still new at writing.  It will be quite some time when I can say to my readers that I am well-seasoned.  Let me give it a few weeks.  Just kidding!  In fact, my ways of overcoming distractions, sad emotions, and time wasting might be quite different from that of a more experienced writer.  But I will try.  We are all human.  Everyone is different.  New ways and tactics to overcoming procrastination are certainly welcome to me.  If you feel you want to add any ideas or thoughts on how you overcome idleness, please feel free to comment.  Please share your mind with others and myself on this website as well as Facebook.  (link at the bottom)

The first question, “How can one stop these distractions?”, is not an easy one.  Many folks would instantly say, the best way to stop a distraction, is to eliminate it.  I say embrace it!  If you were walking along a road, suddenly a wall was to appear before you, yes, you could whip out a bomb from your back pocket, much like Link in one of my favorite video games: Zelda.  The way would become clear and you could go on your merry way.

Life is not like that.  How can artists, like our beautiful selves, just whip out a bomb and destroy our lives?  Our lives are important to us, distractions and all.  We cannot disrupt our lives for the sake of our art.

Instead of eliminating the distractions, embrace that wall and climb over it.  The climb might be invigorating.  Finding a way to climb over is finding a way to work with the distractions.  Let me give you an example of my own personal life.  Right now as I write this sentence, my son is telling me of some adventure he is having.  It has taken some practice, but I am able to continue with no problem.  I have embraced it.  Again, yesterday, my laundry, cell phone ringing, and family members coming and going, was very hard to ignore, but I was able to overcome the many things that were pulling my attention away from writing.

If you try eliminating everything from your life, you will find that you will have nothing left, and no reason to create your work.  Human connection is everything, don’t get rid of them.  Writing should become like breathing in your life.  Let those around you become use to the fact you will always have a pen and paper.  Let them feel comfortable with your tap-tapping away at a computer.

Second question: “Who can work on something they love, when they feel like the world is crushing in around them?”  This is question I find myself always asking.  How can one work like this?  Tired, sad, feelings of desperation, anxiety are many items artist and writers face.

Again, I think the idea of eliminating and destroying is a mistake, as a writer especially.  Embracing is the best thing you can do in this situation.  I often enjoy desperate emotions, because I can experience the feelings.  All writers should have some character in their stories that is struggling.  Whether it comes from the main character or the antagonist, there is a struggle.  It is human nature to feel upset from time to time.  How can a writer tell of feelings, if they have not experienced them for themselves?

One of my favorite artist is Van Gogh.  Oh, I love him.  I wish very much to have met him.  He was probably as awkward and socially strange as it gets.  He was the most unusual of men.  Even to other painters of the time, he was odd.  Van Gogh embraced his emotions (and madness) and created masterpieces one after another.  He did it for the sake of art.  He saw the beauty in the world, and even in his desperate state he could not help himself.  I advise very strongly that every writer and/or artist of every walk of life find a role model like Van Gogh and learn from them.  Of course you are your own person, and two ear are better than one!  Take from others around you, be encouraged, and embrace the emotions, they make you who you are!  (Even if you don’t like that person all the time.)

Lastly, the question of “Who wants to spend time on art, when they are happy doing other things?” is the hardest one to answer.  We only have 24 hours in one day.  I don’t think I know one adult, in this busy world, who wished we had less than that.  I’m constantly wishing for more time.  Not only is the day too short, so is the week, so is the weekend, so is the month, and the year, and before you know it, boom, nursing home.  My how time flies when you are having fun.

Self-discipline is the best answer for this question.  I have recently adopted the saying, “If you can’t find time, make it.”  It is a lot harder than you think, but I always can make some.  Time is something I greatly cherish.  I want to spend it wisely, but often don’t.  I’m human.  Netflix and Facebook.  What can I say?  They are so much fun.  Why would I want to spend hours typing and thinking when I can mindlessly watch Columbo, or playing on my phone.

If you want to achieve your goals and want to see things happen in your life, you must prioritize.  Think on what is important.  24 hours is all that has been given us.  We can only do so much.  When we get the chance to look back and see what we have done in our short lives.  Will we be happy with how we wasted the given time by playing candy crush, checking Facebook, and watching TV or will we be happy with time spent with family and doing the things we love?  Love your art, love those who love your art too.  Spend your fleeting time on what is truly important.

Thank you for reading.  I greatly hope that these thoughts have helped you.  Remember to share your thoughts here or on Facebook so others can be enlightened!

-Beck

https://www.facebook.com/suzannebeckintheopen/

Blockade!

The past few weeks have been very enlightening.  I have learned things about myself, that as a writer, I never knew.

I always figured procrastination to be my greatest enemy when it comes to my work, but now I am thinking differently these days.  I am not as hesitant and neglecting in other areas of my life, so why then, is it so hard for me to get to the computer, and write.

As for you my readers, think about yourself.  Look at your own outlet.  If it is writing, then this post will be right up your alley.  If your inspired outlets involve music, gardening, painting, or any other creative hobby in which you have to create, hopefully you will get something out of this.

I want to look at how we, as creators of art, can be so excited and thrilled over a project or idea, but then suddenly lose our willpower and drive.  Let’s look first at the problems.  Then tomorrow I will come up with some solutions we can use to battles these creative blockers.

Problem One:  Distractions

As I am writing this current blog, I cannot count the times that I have been distracted away from my computer screen.  Since I am a mother and wife, I have responsibilities to my house and son.  This is just one of many distractions that come.

We as artists have no problem coming up with distractions of our own.  Netflix is a major downfall for myself.  Even reading can pull one away from the process of creating.  Just life in general is one big distraction.  Our minds wander off into the wonderful land of stress.  We think about our relationships, finances, the future, transportation, jobs, and the list could go on.  It seems as though our brains and lives are setup to completely stop what we truly want to accomplish.  Deep down inside, we desire so much to make something great, but we get in the way of own selves.
How can one stop these distractions?

Problem Two:  Sad Emotions

Most artist, especially musicians, are extremely emotional.  Recently I have realized something about myself, that I never quite looked into before.  I could not for the life of me figure out why I was a happy-go-lucky person for two weeks out of the month, and the other two, well let me just say, I am a darkened damsel of doom.  I have self-diagnosed myself to have pmdd.  (I am not going to go into it, because we all have google, and I figure you can look that up yourself.)  I will be getting my doctor’s diagnosis later on, but since it is not a pressing matter, I am not too worried.  It is something I must live and I am not the type to take pills anyway.  If you are a woman, then you know all too well, the way hormones can affect your thinking, reactions, and emotional levels.  If you are a man, I am not ruling you out.  Men have feelings too!  Just hidden deep inside, I think.  Emotions can hold back any creativity that is trying to poke through.  It is enough to make one cry!

Who can work on something they love, when they feel like the world is crushing in around them?

Problem Three:  Happy Emotions with a Time Limit

Coffee, song running through your head, skip in your walk?  Sounds like a wonderful start to a productive day!  The world is yours to conquer.  For me, I love waking up happy.  I have a list in my head of all the things I want to do.  I get so excited.  My energy is high, my heart it light.  But then it hits.  It hits so soft I don’t even realize it happened.  My happy emotions take me back to the first problem: distractions.  I go out with my husband, we enjoy a day together.  I start listening to music, dancing with my son.  I recently spent a whole morning and afternoon playing Legos.  This may seem like a blessing and wonderful thing to most.  Yes, it is a beautiful thing.  To be able to spend time with the family and to be happy with the time you have.  But that is the thing.  As a creator, as a writer, time is a precious commodity.  Depending on your writing skills and how fast you write, just two hours can get you a few pages.  Also editing loves eating up those fleeting minutes.

Who wants to spend the time on art, when they are happy doing other things?

Tomorrow I will discuss a few ideas to combat these nasty “little” problem.

-Beck

https://www.facebook.com/suzannebeckintheopen/

Introduction to the Color Series

Posted: September 19, 2016

For the next week or so, I am pleased to present a series, Color.  During this run I will be educating readers on facts about color that are not commonly known.

Most of the population learn the rainbow when they are toddlers, and never concern themselves to know more.  Parents are always quizzing their young children on what the color of grass or sky is.  Sadly, unless the child takes art classes, the lessons stop there.

Some careers are focused solely on the topic at hand, such as painters (artistic and non-artistic), interior designers, fashion designers, landscapers, hairdressers, and the list could go on.  It often becomes second nature to them.

I would like to go beyond the basic red, blue, yellow, green, orange, purple, brown, pink, white, and black.  Look forward to learning how the colors were named, their history, how history has been effected by the use of colors, changes to colors in the future, and much more.

This topic is very dear to my heart, because of all the research I have done on the topic and I still have much to learn.  You may ask, why a writer, who sees only in black and white, would be so obsessed with color.  The obvious is answer is because a good writer should be able paint a picture in the reader’s mind of the scene.  Clearly colors also sets a mood, allowing the writer to push a feeling into the reader’s heart.  The reason why I have dived deeply on the subject is for plot purposes, which hopefully in the not so distant future, you will read about in a novel written by yours truly.

So please come back all week to learn something new on a subject you have known all your life.

I want to apologize to any readers who are protanopia, deuteranopia, tritanopia, or monochromatism contestants.  Please still hang in there, you might learn something too.  If you are unsure what these terms mean, return to find out.

-Beck

https://www.facebook.com/suzannebeckintheopen/

The Importance of Profreeding

Posted: Septemeber, 18, 2016

This will be a fun blog for me , because as tempting as it is, I will refrain from fixing my mistakes.  Then I can have pleasure at the tought of you cringing in your seats as you read this.  I want to clearify the importance of proofreading.

If you are a professional writer, or just a student preparing an essay it matters.  Even just writing a simple email or quick note to a co-worker, it is important to practice good proofreading.  Heare are some good reasons why you need to proofread:

1.       Readers will be able to focus on content instead of the mistakes.  Nothing is more upsetting to a reader, when their attention is pulled away from what they are reading, all from something that should have been gone over once or twice.

2.       Proofreading shows concern for content.  If a writer corrects a mistake, they are showing true interest for the piece.  If not, the reader will feel a certain level of lazieness.

3.       Proofreading shows professionalism.  If you are trying sell something, or maybe you are in a leadership role, nothing will deter your clients or subordinates from you quicker than a misspelled word.

4.       Grammar Nazis will leave you alone.  We all know one.  They read your work up and down, and can’t help themselves at telling you what went wrong with your sentences.

5.       Proofreading brings a peace of mind.  Nothing is more calming then going back through your work and nitpicking it apart, to fix and slip-ups.

While editing a piece can be very time consuming, it is still a part of writing.  I like to break it up into a percentage:  10% writing, 90% editing.  Writing is general considered the fun part.  Editing is often viewed as a pain staking process.  But if you look at these five reasons on why it needs to be done, well maybe it will lighten proofreadings reputation.

(I want to make sure everyone unsderstands that Editing and Proofreeading are two diferent things,, but fall under the same category.  Editing is much huger, and one day we will plunge into that subject, today is not that day)

-Beck