21 October 2016

Published October 19, 2016 by rochellewisoff

ANNOUNCING GREAT NEWS!!!

Alicia Jamtaas has been published! Her short story, “A Private Death” has been included in the fall issue of “Sweet Tree Review.” Way to go Alicia!

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PHOTO PROMPT © Claire Fuller

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Genre: Anecdote

Word Count: 100

PENNY-ANTE

Sunday was “Fan Tan” night when I was eight. My family played the card game for pennies.

“Where’s that seven of hearts?” Dad tossed a copper on the table with mock disgust. “Shelly? You only have one card left?”

“The little brat’s got it,” said my fourteen-year-old brother pitching his coin.

I batted my eyelashes. “Why, Jeffrey, whatever do you mean?” With a dramatic flourish, I laid down the seven. “I win!”

It’s not the victories I remember as much as the unprecedented peace between my parents, my father’s relentless teasing, and laughing so hard I nearly wet my pants.

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14 October 2016

Published October 12, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Genre: Hysterical Faction

Word count: 100

For a few of us, Wednesday, 12 October 2016, is not only Friday Fictioneers but also Yom Kippur, the highest of Jewish holy days. For that reason, I’ve taken the liberty of rerunning the following story from April 3, 2013. A handful of you might remember the prompt and even have a story you want to repeat.

Click Here to see the original post.

The Ashamnu is a traditional prayer of repentance recited on Yom Kippur, the Jewish highest of holy days or day of atonement. The word “ah-SHAM-nu” means we are guilty or we have sinned.

ASHAMNU

Rhoda cast furtive glances in all directions, inhaled throat-burning smoke, held it, and then exhaled, handing the joint to Marcus.

“Don’t be so paranoid.” His bloodshot eyes glittered.

Candles illuminated the corners of his darkened bedroom. In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida blared from the stereo and patchouli incense tickled her nose.

After they’d downed an entire bag of chips, Marcus plopped his yarmulke on his head.

“So much for fasting. Let’s get back before they miss us.”

Side-by-side they sneaked into the synagogue and giggled through repentance prayers.

Every year afterward, when Rhoda dutifully attended services, she chuckled as she recalled the “High” Holiday.

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Original Artwork from 1971 © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

It Must be the Shoes

Published October 11, 2016 by rochellewisoff

At the Ozarks Writers League conference in August, I left my purple high-top Converse sneakers at home, opting for sandals instead. How was I supposed to know my agent, who was a speaker that weekend, had told an editor about my colorful shoes?

“You have to wear those shoes,” said Jeanie , with her sweet Southern drawl. “They’re your trademark.”

With Jeanie Loiacono

There’s no denying it. Those tennies are a conversation starter and comfortable to boot. In that vein I solemnly promised to wear them to all conferences and book signings.

September 17 I wore them to my class reunion where I was encouraged to set up a book table. Not only did I enjoy connecting with old friends, ten of them bought books.

Can you spot me? My shoes?

Back in the day.

The following week I had a book table at the Heritage Festival in Independence, Missouri. I enjoyed meeting people of different ethnicities. However, it turned out to be a very hot day with not-so-hot attendance.

Last Friday night we went to an art fair to watch a good friend of ours perform. While listening to Br. John Anderson and his accompanist, Rick Cole, I perused handmade jewelry in a nearby booth.

With Br. John Anderson

The gentleman minding the shop for his wife asked about my attire which, of course, included my purple footwear. “I’m interested in how people dress for art fares,” he said. “Is this how you dress for them?”

I explained that I was also an artist and an author. “This is pretty much how I dress most of the time.”

“Really? What do you write?”

“Historical fiction.”

“Can I find them on Amazon?”

“I have two in my bag.” I grinned and whipped out a copy of Please Say Kaddish for Me and one of From Silt and Ashes. “They’re first and second in a trilogy.”

He handed me a twenty-dollar bill and had me sign Please Say Kaddish for Me to him and his wife.

I’ve learned three important lessons this past year: Keep books on hand, keep the Square in my purse to take credit cards and always wear the shoes!

Character Study – Charles Rosenthal

Published October 7, 2016 by rochellewisoff

As a girl in, Fruma Ya’el fell in love with an idealistic Jewish doctor from the United States.

Fruma Ya’el -Original Artwork-© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“I was your age when a doctor came to visit Svechka—Dr. Rosenthal—all the way from New York, America,” she tells Havah. “He claimed it was his mission to recruit Jews to become doctors so we wouldn’t always be at the mercy of the Goyim. He stayed for two years and filled my head full of knowledge and dreams…”

Recognizing Fruma Ya’el’s aptitude for medicine, Charles urged her to return to New York with him to study medicine and marry him. When tragedy struck she laid her aspirations to rest. Obeying her father’s wishes, she married Herschel. Dejected and heartbroken, Charles left Svechka.

Dr. Charles Rosenthal – Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Setting down the tattered diaper she used as a polishing cloth, Fruma Ya’el reached into a concealed pocket in the wooden box’s lining and pulled out an old tintype. Lean, with black hair, bushy moustache and olive skin, to this day, Charles’ image held the power to quench her arid heart’s thirst if only for the briefest moment. The memory of his lips pressed hard against hers still lingered in her mind like sweet cream and honey.

“Charles. I can’t.”

“You’d rather rot in ignorance because of a narrow minded old man and a piece of paper than come with me?”

“I’m all my father has left.”

Charles’ dark eyes filled. He grasped her face with both hands. “I beg of you, Ya’el. Think. There are schools cropping up all over America for women. You’ll be a brilliant doctor, a medical pioneer.”

“What about Papa’s honor?”

“Damn ‘Papa’s honor’!”

~~Taken from Please Say Kaddish for Me

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

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Amazon Angus & Robertson B&N BAM BookWorld FishPond Shelfari The Book Depository Waterstones GoodReads iDreamBooks HPB Hudson Book Sellers IndieBound Powell’s Books

Amazon AU Amazon UK Amazon Germany Amazon Italy Amazon France Amazon Spain

The Sequel

Amazon Amazon Spain Amazon Italy Amazon Germany Amazon UK Amazon France

Watch for the third in Havah’s Series!

COMING SOON!

Check out my author page on the Loiacono Website. For all of the character studies thus far, click on the link Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Art and Blogs or my website RochelleWordArt.

7 October 2016

Published October 5, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BORN ON THE 4^TH OF JULY

“Greetings to all you boneheads in the Pacific, this is your number one enemy, your favorite playmate, Orphan Ann, with some good jive.”

Trembling, Iva put down her script and set the needle on the record. What choice did she have? She had to eat.

Stranded in Tokyo after a short trip to visit her aunt, she refused to renounce her US citizenship. Japanese customs repulsed her. She longed for hamburgers and Coca-Cola in her comfortable California home.

***

Thirty-two years, six of them in prison for treason, later, President Gerald Ford pardoned Iva Toguri D’aquino, also known as Tokyo Rose.

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Click!

30 September 2016

Published September 28, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Amy Reese

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It’s not exactly an excerpt but a snippet tweaked to be a teaser to my book From Silt and Ashes.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

PRELUDE TO AN ODYSSEY

After weeks of contemplation and numerous entreaties from Dr. Trubachov in Ukraine, Dr. Nikolai Derevenko tendered his resignation to St. Thomas Hospital. As he left the administrator’s office he felt one of his burdens had lifted.

“Good morning, Doctor.”

An attractive nurse whose dimensions stretched her starched uniform to its limits cocked her head and flashed a dimpled smile. He followed her with his eyes to the other end of the corridor until she turned and entered a patient’s room.

When he returned to his original path he looked up in time to avoid a collision with a police officer.

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If you’ve read it and enjoyed please leave a review on Amazon.com. Thank you.

Taking Flight

Published September 27, 2016 by rochellewisoff

I’ve been given the opportunity to be interviewed on The Writer’s Block Radio Show. It’s a weekly program that, according to the creators, brings writers and readers together every Thursday night. My interview is scheduled for Thursday, November 17th at 7:00 PM Pacific Time.

You can listen to live broadcasts and recorded podcasts here: http://latalkradio.com/content/writers-block.

Interviews can be done over the phone or live depending on the location of the interviewee. However—for me a big ‘however’ since we don’t have a landline—LA Talk Radio strongly discourages the use of cell phones as they tend to drop calls.

Television Interview on Fox 4 KC in April 2016.

With that little piece of information tucked away, I contacted my son, Travis who lives in LA. When I asked how far the studio is from him he answered, “Pretty close.”

Perhaps Olive and her Bubbe will do some artwork together. (I hope so.)

What better way to plan an unprecedented visit with my one and only grandchild? I’m pleased to announce that I’ve purchased my airline ticket and am looking forward to seeing my kids as well as doing the interview. Hm. Perhaps I’ll be able to schedule a book signing while I’m in the neighborhood?

23 September 2016

Published September 21, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

PINOCHLE CHARLIE’S DAUGHTER

Rose Borach’s heart sank. “Fania, don’t quit school. You’re too smart to end up like your worthless father.”

“I won’t.” The skinny seventeen-year-old glided across the room with the grace of a ballerina. “My grades stink and I’m still in the eighth grade.” She sang, “Give my regards to Broooaddwaaay!” With an exaggerated curtsy, she kissed Rose’s cheek. “Someday you’re gonna see my name in lights.”

“What name? Borax? Jenny Waters? Muddy Waters?”

***

Two years later in 1910, nineteen-year-old Fania burst through Rose’s door and flashed her newly signed contract. “Look, Ma, I’m in the Ziegfeld Follies. Me! Fanny Brice!”

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For those not familiar with this great lady of the theater, may I introduce on of my childhood heroes.

16 September 2016

Published September 14, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

WHITHER THOU GOEST

Obed grunted and pushed but could not budge the heavy stone to grind flour.

“You’re too small, son.” Ruth handed him a bundle of sheaves and a mallet. “Here, thresh these for me.”

His eyes shone like starlight reflecting off the sea. Her heart swelled with love for him leaving no room for loneliness.

He pounded the barley kernels. “Tell me about my father.”

Obed’s face bore traces of both Mahlon and Mahlon’s Uncle Boaz, her beloved men, dead and buried. How do I explain Hebrew law regarding husbands and widows to a three-year-old?

“To begin with, you had two.”

Click

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A lovely review from GAH Learner. Thank you, Gabriele!

9 September 2016

Published September 7, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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I’m not sure at this stage of the game when my next novel As One Must, One Can will be released. However this prompt is perfect for the following excerpt. The operative is excerpt and, admittedly, it is not a complete story. It is set in Kansas City, Missouri in the year 1908 where Arel Gitterman makes his living as a tailor.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 99

EXCERPT FROM AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN

Two electric fans only circulated hot air, thick with machine oil and chalk dust, in the tailor shop. Arel’s rigid collar irritated his neck and he pushed his wet hair from his forehead. His sewing machine hummed and afternoon light glinted off the bobbing needle as he guided a shirtsleeve under the presser foot. A drop of sweat rolled down his cheek and dripped onto the cuff.

Whipping the linen shirt off the table, he hurried to wash it before the stain could set in. A wave of nausea swept over him and a sharp pain seared his chest.

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Thank you to our own GAH Learner for such a lovely review blog of PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME. (Click title to read.)