where the writers are

Cynthia S. Becker's Blog

RSSSyndicate content
Every Memorial day of my childhood, Dad lifted the lid of his battered old Army trunk and reviewed its contents. Sitting cross-legged on the basement floor, I accompanied him on a nostalgic, mothball-scented trip back in time to meet men Dad once knew in a very different place and time. I loved to...
Continue Reading »
After the book release, the reviews, the promotional events, the sales, many works end up in the used book market. Curious about what types of used books are in demand, I reviewed titles sold by an Internet book business during the first quarter of 2012.        ...
Continue Reading »
In Mrs. Albers’ eighth grade English class, I discovered that I wanted to be a writer. I was the kid with her nose always in a book who excelled at any assignment that required a written report. Mrs. Albers was the first teacher who asked us to write fiction, to create our own work in the form...
Continue Reading » 2 comments
New York City was a place I feared even before the September 11th terrorist attack. My memories of the city-that-never-sleeps were a maze of dark concrete canyons, crushing herds of brusque people, frantic traffic, and a deep, pulsing din I could not mute. I arrived in mid October of 2001, a...
Continue Reading »
Sarah Terry Coleman stood up for her rights in an era when husbands controlled property the wife brought to a marriage. Sarah's first husband died, leaving her with two children and custody of a small Kentucky farm that would belong to her son when he came of age. A neighbor, Robert Cochran, came...
Continue Reading »
Fruitcake jokes abound around the holidays. Suggestions for using them include a doorstop or a bookend. Many cakes are soaked in whiskey or rum leading to tipsy cook humor. eHow even offers “How to Write A Fruitcake Joke.”    Mostly red and green candied fruit and nuts held together by a mortar of...
Continue Reading »
A miniature-adult figure dressed in shimmering white satin decorated with beads and lace stared back at me from the Sears and Roebuck catalog. Her veil seemed sheer as dragonfly wings. I was seven years old and that doll was my only request from Santa Claus, as I had repeatedly told my parents.  ...
Continue Reading » 1 comment
“Honey, this is the girl who beat me in the sixth grade spelling bee.” That is how Mark introduced me to his wife at our 20-year high school reunion. We had been classmates from first grade through college but I expected Mark’s memories of me to focus on my mother’s cupcakes, which he praised with...
Continue Reading »
  “Button your lip and listen up, Cowboy! Today, we’re gonna rob the bank.” “We are?” “Yup,” said Tex. “That bank over yonder.”  Cowboy stretched his neck to get a peek. “Plant yourself by the corral and keep a lookout.” Tex pointed to the exact spot. “It’s almost high noon. When we see the banker...
Continue Reading »
I was relieved when the receptionist from the dentist’s office called early Monday morning to cancel my appointment. I didn’t really want to spend the day with one side of my face numb and drooling. On Tuesday morning my husband came into the kitchen with frown lines wrinkling his forehead and the...
Continue Reading »
First Day 1957
The end of summer was always my long awaited beginning. Summer's culminating event was the Labor Day picnic, a gathering of some 25 families with children of all ages. Arriving mid-afternoon at the Kratz’s lakeside home, we squished through muddy banks to splash in murky water where fish nibbled...
Continue Reading »
As twenty-something newlyweds, we left apartment life in Denver and bought a bungalow in a small mountain town. Our new next-door neighbors were women well beyond that “certain age.”                      Lottie, in the white frame house on our left, was ninety-three and had outlived three husbands...
Continue Reading » 2 comments