Once upon a time, eight years ago to be exact, I was a fledgling author with a newly published short story anthology. I’d recently started a blog and occasionally received more than two comments on my posts! Sigh.
One April Wednesday morning in 2012 as I scrolled through my Facebook feed I saw a notice on the Ozarks Writers League, OWL, page from someone named Madison Woods. It was a reminder that it was time for Friday Fictioneers, a weekly blog challenge that would change the course of my life.
(I had a lot to learn about commenting and reciprocation 😉 )
Who knew that six months later I’d be adopting Madison’s baby? Enough of that! The purpose of this post is to introduce you to the lady, author and artist who birthed the idea of Friday Fictioneers.
Friday Fictioneer is a weekly writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Field. She posts a photograph and the challenge is to write a 100 word short story.
I asked Rochelle if she’d like to give us the history of how she became involved and eventually the host of FF. Here is her story:
HERDING CATS
Six years ago, as a newly published author of a short story anthology, writing and rewriting my first novel, I didn’t have much of a direction for my blog. The few articles I posted were met with overwhelming disinterest.
One April day I noticed a Facebook post by someone named Madison Woods on the Ozarks Writers League page announcing the time had come for Friday Fictioneers. I found the title intriguing so I asked her about it.
She explained that every Wednesday she put up a photo and each participant was to insert it into…
Every week at least one hundred global writers shorten the distance by sharing their flash fictions based on a single photo prompt. I have the honor and privilege of hosting the Friday Fictioneers challenge created by Madison Woods three years ago. I’ll probably never meet each one face to face, although I’ve been able to meet up with a few.
This past week, Friday Fictioneers Bill and Janet Webb had lunch Sandra Crook and her husband Neville on their boat in France.
From left to right: Neville and Sandra Crook, Janet and Bill Webb (who resembles neither zombie nor zed).
Also among our world travelers is Dawn Landau who lives in Washington state met with fellow fictioneer Björn Rudberg for lunch in Stockholm.
I love putting more than faces to names, don’t you?
If you came here expecting a 100 word flash fiction, you might be disappointed. While I realize I’m breaking my own rule by linking something other than a short story I thought this post would be of interest to Friday Fictioneers. It may not be a short story, but as you can see there is a short facilitator.
Friday, November 15, 2013 at Ye Olde English Inn in Branson, MO, the entertainment capitol of the Midwest eight of the, sometimes, over one hundred writers met face to face and person person. From left to right: Beth Carter, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, Madison Woods, Janet Webb, Karen Nelson, Russell Gayer, Jan Morrill and Kent Bonham.
Some of you may remember K.D. McCrite who wrote for Friday Fictioneers until success as an author has whisked her from our midst. She was the speaker for our morning session. She left us without excuses. 😉
It’s with mixed emotions I post my story inspired by Ron Pruitt’s photo prompt. This is Madison’s last week as Friday Fictioneers leader and my last week as one just of the gang. She will be one tough act to follow. Click here for other FF stories. Enjoy!
My offering this week is a tribute to Madison and our diverse global community that I hope continues to grow and flourish.
*Note: I don’t think I can put the linkz tool on my blog without upgrading. So it looks like we’ll be back to posting our blog addresses here and in our comments. I’m open to any and all feedback or instruction on this.
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copyright-Ron Pruitt
Apprehensions whelmed the new driver. How could she steer this behemoth? Her feet barely reached the gas pedal.
A lithe maiden with pointed ears and iridescent wings floated past her. Next was an imposing man whose black silk cape skimmed the floor. One by one, diverse passengers stowed their baggage and found their seats.
“Welcome,” said the last in line. “I’m Russell.”
Warmed by his congenial smile she tried not to stare at his plastic clown nose and grasped his offered hand.
Zzzzzzt! His joy buzzer sent shockwaves to her shoulder.
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
PHOTO PROMPT @ A. Noni Mouse
Click the dancing frog to join the fun.
Genre: Hysterical Fiction
Word Count: 100
I REST MY CASE
My son slept on a mattress on the floor. Dirty glasses and plates with mold enough to save the planet from infection littered his room. Filthy clothes and towels covered the bed.
I fumed. “You could hide a body in this room.”
One morning I went to wake him for work. No Evan. I even called his friends.
My heart thrashed at red smears on my white cabinets.
Before I could call the police, Evan entered the kitchen. “Mo-om, why didn’t you wake me? Oh, sorry about the spaghetti sauce.”
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
Jeff drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Damned red light.”
“Down, Scruffy.” Meredith looked up from her magazine. “Can you imagine the chaos without traffic lights? In fact, until 1923, our fair city of Cleveland was a mess until inventor Garrett Morgan witnessed a serious collision between an automobile and a cart. The horse had to be put down and a little girl was severely injured.”
“And…?”
“And Mr. Morgan patented a three-position traffic signal which brought order to roads worldwide. He later sold the patent to General Electric who added colored lights. Hey, Jeff?”
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
Morning sun shoots burnished orange and golden flames across the horizon as I help Elisi gather wild onions. She’ll cook them with eggs, Cherokee style.
As we dig our fingers in the moist dirt, she tells me ancestral stories.
“My grandfather grew up in Georgia. A good life.”
“If it was so good, why’d they move to Oklahoma?”
“They had no choice, Unisi. Our people walked a thousand miles, some without shoes. My great-grandmother died, giving birth.” Tears trail Elisi’s wrinkled cheek. “President Jackson claimed it was to keep us out of harm’s way.
“Don’tcha mean out of his way?”
***
Elisi is Cherokee for Grandmother and Unisi means granddaughter.
*Cherokee, Creek, Choctaw, Chickasaw and Seminole had by the early 19th century begun to assimilate into Anglo-American culture. We can’t change history, but perhaps we can make our grandchildren’s history a sweeter memory.
If you have 17 minutes to spare to learn more CLICK HERE.
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And if you have a little more time click the portrait below to listen to my latest interview with Jimmy Leonard and learn the reasons behind the painting. Thank you.
No matter what your political leanings, it’s a compelling book about a longstanding relationship between two women. I loved it from cover to cover.
I must read this book soon!
Kathleen M. Rodgers, one of the most generous people I know.
With fear and trembling I sent my manuscript of my latest novel with working title WHAT THE HEART WANTS and a book proposal to her. When we spoke November 4, Diane opened the conversation with what every author dreams of hearing from a potential agent, “I loved your manuscript or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
So far the book has been turned down a few times but, knowing Diane loves it, assures me she’ll find the right home for Bear Starfire and Asher Gorovich.
Here is short summary. (Yes, I’ve posted this before and might post it again. 😉 )
In 1879, Eastern Europe is a hotbed of Antisemitism. In the midst of a pogrom, a government sanctioned massacre against the Jews, sixteen-year old Asher Gorovich witnesses the slaughter of his father, the blacksmith in his Polish village. Life doesn’t improve for him as he endures more persecution and loss of other loved ones.
Meanwhile, in America, eleven-year-old Bear Starfire is torn from her family and forced to attend St. Salvinus Indian boarding school. There she is stripped of her culture and endures both emotional and physical cruelty at the hands of staff members.
When these two wounded hearts meet will they find more conflict or the answer to their prayers?
Bear Starfire on the Wings of the Wind
Enter the Quarantine. Yeah, as much as I’ve avoided writing about it, it is the proverbial elephant in the room (and all over the media). For those of you who remember elephant jokes, you can tell he’s there by the peanuts on his breath.
As per Diane’s strong suggestion, I’ve worked on my Twitter presence. You can follow me @RochelleFields 😉 At any rate, that’s how I met Jimmy Leonard, a young man with a podcast entitled “World on Fire”. In April he emailed saying I fit the profile of someone with a passion and asked if I’d be willing to do an interview on Zoom. Although we did the interview on April 22, it didn’t go “live” until mid June.
We spoke for at least 45 minutes. Please excuse my cluttered background. That’s my environment. Unfortunately, the above portion about meeting Diane and WHAT THE HEART WANTS didn’t make the final edit.
Disclaimer: I had no idea what his intro would be. Although, I think Mr. Leonard makes some good points and it is his podcast.
Keep in mind, we spoke in April. Our topics were my artwork, Friday Fictioneers and the novel I’m currently working on and am three-fourths of the way through. My interview begins about 11:36 into it.
Re his “off the wall” question, “If you could paint a portrait of any person, living or dead, who would it be?” This took me by surprise, because I’ve done quite a few portraits. For whatever reason, the first person who popped into my overloaded mind was Maya Angelou, a woman I greatly admire. What’s not to admire?
Nu? I had to put my paintbrush where my mouth was, right? Of course right!
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
My seventy-four-years-young grandmother walks beside me with a slight limp.
“Did you have an accident when you were a girl, Nan?”
“Polio.”
“Why aren’t your legs deformed like the kids in those old films?”
“I was only five at the time.” Nan’s eyes mist. “My mother defied our doctor, who wanted to shackle me with steel braces, and took me to one of Sister Kenny’s treatment centers. There they wrapped my legs in hot wool and forced me to exercise.”
“Didn’t that hurt?”
“Like hell.” She grins and skips toward the ocean. “Last one in the water’s a rotten egg.”
Friday Fictioneer
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