I will make this blog short and, hopefully, sweet.
Last week I had the unexpected pleasure of interviewing with Dr. Paul Reeves on Impact USA out of Detroit. Click on his name under the photo to learn more.
I say unexpected because it all came about quickly and seemingly out of nowhere.
I was chatting in a Facebook private message with friend Caroline Giammanco , author of “The Boonie Hat Bandit” and “Guilty Hearts” who asked if I would be interested in doing an interview. If so she could get me in touch with Deborah Ratliff who gathers info for Dr. Paul. (Are you with me?) I emailed my particulars to Deborah and within hours I received an email from Dr. Paul. I’ll stop there since my head’s spinning just writing it.
Here I am with Caroline in Chicago May before last.
Without further adieu, here’s the interview if you have 30 minutes to spare. For those of you in Friday Fictioneers, you’ll note that the subject came up more than once. Perhaps we’ll see Dr. Paul in our midst as a Fictioneer in the not too distant future.
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.
Please be considerate and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you.
Once more another excerpt from my trilogy as I prepare the coffee table companion book, A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY. Designed for those who like art and very short stories. 😉 This is an excerpt from the third in the series, AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN. A little background for those unfamiliar. The menorah in the story is a ‘character’ of sorts. Crafted by Yussel’s father, it has survived the pogroms and the long journey to America.
Genre: Historical Fiction circa 1907
Word Count: 100
FAMILY HEIRLOOM
Arel scowled. “Lev, where’ve you been?”
“The library, I—”
“You missed supper.”
Havah grasped Arel’s arm and whispered, “Please let him explain.”
“My house. My rules.” Arel slapped Lev, knocking Yussel’s menorah off the table.
The ground listed beneath Havah’s feet.
Lev gasped.
Yussel cried out, dropped to his knees and searched with trembling hands until he found the broken pieces. He hugged them to his chest. Tears quivered in his sightless eyes.
“It’s only one branch, Papa.” Havah knelt beside him. “Surely it can be fixed.”
“Once a limb is severed can the tree be made whole again?”
The weekend, beginning with Thursday, the 26th was busy one. It began with an interview with Jim Christina and Russ Avison on The Writers Block. Some will remember that I had the joy of going out to California to interview in the studio with them last November. The opportunity just didn’t present itself this year so we muddle through via telephone. Nonetheless, I had a great time.
Here is the link with Jim’s generous intro: 😀
Russ and I had a great conversation with author and artist Rochelle Wisoff Fields last evening. An informed writer and unique historian of early 1900’s Russia and the US. Giver her books a read!Here is the podcast address:http://latalkradio.com/content/writer-102617%20#audio_play
It’s an hour long and 40 minutes of it is Yours Truly. I hope you’ll take the time to listen.
Russ Avison
Jim Christina
Finding Cure Through Literacy
Friday morning we hit the road at 5:00 AM to make the long drive to Texarkana for the 8th Annual Gathering of Authors, a charity event and book signing. The festivities were kicked off with benefit banquet. All proceeds were to go to St. Jude’s Hospital.
I made some new friends and valuable connections. Not to mention it was nice to just get away for a couple of days with my hubby.
Afterward went to spend the rest of the weekend with gracious hosts Tom and Frances Mosby in Dover AR. Since Jan hadn’t heard my interview and we had a long drive we listened to it. Now he knows that “big men walk in fear of me.” (Thanks, Russ.)
Frances and I have known each other since kindergarten so we can always find things to talk about. Yes, we still chatter like a couple of school girls. I’m glad that the guys get along so well, too.
Below are a few photos from the weekend for your viewing pleasure. 😉
Judy Lowe, fellow author and new friend.
Young award winning authors
Chatting with Ann Redelfs, MD and new friend.
Meeting of the artists. With Debra Jo Johnson
Alpacas on the Mosby ranch.
Frances and Tom Mosby. We forgot to take pics together so here they are at their sons recent wedding.
Tammy Holder Thompson, The woman who started it all.
Meeting other authors for lunch on Friday
As we meandered down our street toward home, our neighbor Bud who we’d asked to take in our mail, stopped us to tell us there was a serious problem. With my heart in my mouth, I followed Bud and Jan into their house. Bud’s wife, Cindi met us at the door with wine and said, “You won’t want to be our friends anymore. I washed your mail.”
Have you ever seen a stack of mail that has been trough wash, rinse and spin? Most of it was recognizable. Just mush around the edges. Once we ascertained that there was nothing of any consequence, we toasted our friendship with laughter and wine.
Thank you, Bud and Cindi Turner for being such good friends!
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.
This is a scene from AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN, the third in my Havah Cohen Gitterman trilogy. By the third book, the characters have survived the hardships of Eastern European persecution. Many of them are dealing with what we know today as PTSD. This scene takes place in 1907 when little was known, much less addressed.
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
AMNESIA
“All these years the only thing I remembered was her suicide. I’ve hated her for it,” Shayndel shuddered. “How could I forget why?”
“You were only five,” whispered Fruma Ya’el. “It’s understandable—”
Shayndel buried her head in her hands. “‘Jew bitch,’ they called her. ‘Get help!’ she begged me. But I couldn’t move. I—I watched as they—”
Protracted memories riddled Shayndel. “Bayla never spoke again—until the morning she…she climbed the tree in the yard to the highest branch. Naked. Great with child. She spread her arms, smiled at me and said,” Shayndel choked, “‘Goodbye, little sister.’”
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.
Because the time to work on the content to go with the artwork, I’m using Friday Fictioneers as a proving ground. My plan is take excerpts from the book continue to distill them into standalone flashes. This doesn’t mean all my stories will be book related, it just means that you might be seeing more of them.
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
SACRED PROMISE
Although he had closed his shop for the day, Gavrel could not go back on his word to finish Reuven’s new shoes. He buffed them until they glowed in the lamplight.
Gavrel pulled off his young brother-in-law’s tattered shoes. “Just in time, my little apple. You’re growing so fast I’d better start your next pair tomorrow.”
A frown darkened Reuven’s ruddy face. “Papa, Lev says someday you’ll have a son of your own and won’t want me anymore.”
Heart racing, Gavrel crushed the boy against his chest. “If I have ten more sons, not one will ever take your place.
One of my favorite song quotes comes from the late John Lennon’s “Beautiful Boy.” “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” August was a busy month, but September has followed suit, leaving little time blog. I suppose better late than never applies.
Traditionally for the Fields of Belton, Missouri, the first two weeks of August is when Jan goes to Sturgis, SD for the annual bike rally. It’s also the time when the missus, ie me, has time to relax and hang around the house. However, this year, I didn’t spend nearly as much time relaxing as I’d expected.
Yours Truly with Diane Yates
The first weekend, I packed up the purple tent, books, and artwork. With my good friend Barbara I drove to Fayette, Missouri for the weekend to take part in the Fayette Arts Festival where we stayed with my co-author and friend Diane Yates. Although the weather was unseasonably cold and wet, we girls had a great time. We even sold a few books. 😉 With all of our husbands off and running, the three of us spent Saturday night watching a movie, sipping wine and gabbing into the wee hours.
One of the things I love about doing these signings is the people I meet. Drawn in by the artwork and my novels’ connection to my family, someone will tell me, often in great detail, about their own backgrounds. Great fun.
Wednesday, August 9th, my cousin Kent and I headed to midtown where I was scheduled to do an interview on ArtSpeak on local radio station KKFI, Kansas City’s answer to NPR. He took the picture below during the interview.
Here’s the podcast of that interview. Note: I wasn’t the only guest. You’ll find my slot at 27:39. Friday Fictioneers gets a nod as I read three flash fictions and told Maria how I stumbled into one of the best things I’ve ever done.
Following the interview, Kent and I spent the afternoon meandering around KC’s famous Country Club Plaza. We spent at least an hour in Barnes & Noble’s media room geeking out over DVD’s. We capped off the day by devouring our favorite barbecue at Snead’s BBQ, another Kansas City tradition.
Leawood Barnes & Noble book signing, August 12.
Truly, the crowning moments of the month happened in Branson at the Ozarks Writers League (OWL) conference which happens four times a year. I’ve been a part of and learned much from this generous group of writers for the past ten years. This year I had the opportunity to give back in leading a workshop entitled “Using Flash Fiction as a Writing Tool.” Two FFr’s, our own class clown, Russell Gayer and Cuzzin Kent Bonham served as my peanut gallery (for those who remember Howdy Doody).
A month ahead I sent out the photo prompt and challenged the OWLs to write a 100 word story, giving them a taste of Friday Fictioneers, using the same prompt we used that week on the blog challenge. As always, it’s entertaining to hear the different takes on the same photo. OWL president, Diane Yates and her husband Ricky both took part which was fun since the photo is that of their converted closet shower that he built with his own two hands.
August is the month of the OWL Annual Art Contest with three categories: 2 dimensional art, 3 dimensional and photography. Best in Show (not to be confused with the famous dog show) is awarded by the entry the judges consider the best of the 3 first place winners. I was pleased to learn that I won first and second place for 2 dimensional and the trophy. 😀
Since my husband Jan, my favorite roadie, cheerleader and wind beneath my wings, took the photos he isn’t in any of them.
Yours Truly took Best in Show in the OWL art contest.
Presenting Flash Fiction as a writing tool.
Class Clown
Russell voicing his surprise at being a part of the power point presentation.
Kent Bonham reading his entry.
Diane Yates reading her entry.
Of course I included my darling granddaughter in the presentation. Bubbie’s prerogative.
Workshop participant, Margarite Stevers.
Workshop participant, Jane Hale.
Winners of the annual OWL art contest.
Everyone received a certificate, suitable for framing.
Ricky Yates’ Masterpiece. The converted closet shower.
Russell in the flesh. What a treat to visit with him in person.
Ricky Yates giving the history of the shower and reading his entry.
There’s an abundance of both street view and photo spheres in this beautiful city. Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you like for your post.
Your job is to write a 150-word (or less) story about this week’s chosen location. Where will you take your readers? You’re invited to join the talented writers of Pegman this week in St. Petersburg, Russia.
To enjoy this week’s stories or to submit your own, visit the inLinkz button:
For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.
As you may already know, I’m currently working on getting my fourth book A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY ready for publication. It will be a collection of illustrations and excerpts depicting characters and scenes from my novel trilogy. These excerpts seem to lend themselves to 100-150 word flashes. This week’s location was the perfect opportunity. Thank you for your indulgence and your help. 😉
St. Petersburg Philharmonic
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 149
ELEGY
With the unpleasant task of delivering bad news to a dear friend and former patient behind him, Dr. Nikolai Derevenko settled back for the evening. In an attempt to cheer himself, he picked up his flute from the table, brought it to his lips and played a Bach sonata. Usually the music would lift his spirits, but tonight it only intensified his loneliness as he reflected on his life, beginning with the day he informed his father he had chosen to go to medical school.
Sergei Derevenko, a prominent violinist in the St. Petersburg Philharmonic, eyed Nikolai with a mixture of anger and hurt.
“You’d rather slice people open and wallow in their blood and bile than delight thousands of patrons with your talent? I don’t understand you, Kolyah.”
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.
A little teaser this week from my second novel FROM SILT AND ASHES
Genre: Historical Fiction circa 1904
Word Count: 100
LACK OF VISION
“I’ve been reading.” Arel peered over his newspaper at seven-month old Rachel in her highchair. “There are places for people like her.”
“She’s a person.” Havah seized the paper and ripped it in half.
“In one of those schools she can be with other persons who are…” he lowered his voice, “…blind.”
Choking on her anger, Havah hobbled to their bedroom where she hauled a suitcase from the closet. After stuffing it with his clothes, she shoved it down the stairs.
“Havah, listen to reason.”
“I will when I hear it. Come back when you decide to be a father!”
It all started when my agent Jeanie suggested I post character studies of my throng of characters on my blog to garner interest in my yet-to-be-published novels. I didn’t start rendering them in pencil and watercolor straightaway. You can blame it on Officer Lafayette A. Tillman, the second African American on the Kansas City Police Force. Since he shows up in FROM SILT AND ASHES and becomes an influential person in the life of Lev Gitterman in AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN I naturally wanted to post a character study about him. There are photos of him online but the only ones I could find were copyrighted. That’s when it occurred to me to paint a portrait of him.
Fast forward to two novels later with one on the way, my publisher wanted to know if I’d be interested in putting together a coffee table companion book. “Let me think about that a minute…yes.” For going on two years, I’ve worked to make that book upwards of 220 pages. In addition to the sepia portraits of the characters, I’ve been painting watercolor scenes from each of the books. I hate to call it ‘work’ though. To be honest, I’m having the time of my life. 😉
This brings me to three months ago when I was introduced to Alexis at a place in Blue Springs, Missouri called Print Graphics. It had been suggested to me that I have prints made to sell. A festival in the area called Corks & Canvas would be a good venue, I was told, to market, not only my novel trilogy, but my artwork as well. So the games began!
My husband Jan was excited at the prospect of my finally showing my artwork. Maybe those student loans to the Kansas City Art Institute would finally pay off. At any rate, he was totally on board with purchasing the display racks and tables. He used his Academy Sports employee discount to buy a purple tent and matching chairs. (You expected, maybe white?)
I didn’t think I’d have much to show, but thanks to Alexis, who is an artist herself, my stack of prints grew. My office/studio took on the appearance of an explosion in an art gallery. We found thrift stores to be wonderful places to find gently used frames, some with pristine mats that were the perfect size for my prints.
When the time came, Jan, bless his heart, spent most of Friday packing the truck so there’d be little left to do Saturday morning. We lucked out. After a month of stifling heat and humidity, the temps dropped and we had pleasant weather. We were on site by 8:00 am and set up by 10:00.
I enjoyed friends who showed up to support me and meeting new friends. One young Jewish woman stopped and we chatted for a long time. She was drawn to a couple of the paintings because they reminded her of her grandparents. While she didn’t buy anything, she said she would definitely get back with me. I hope she does.
If Corks & Canvas is any indication, it seemed to me that the artwork sold the books and visa versa. Financially, it was a successful day and makes us want to combine book signing and art display at other festivals.
Who knows where this will lead?
Gathering and pricing.
Can I interest you in a book or 3? How about a little something for your wall?
Blowing bubbles to pass the time.
Almost ready to go.
Jan taking a break. If you zoom in on the artwork behind him you’ll have a glimpse of work by the wonderfully talented Bruce McClain.
A hearty thank you to those who made the ultimate sacrifice for the freedoms we so richly enjoy. May their memories be blessing.
So…this is the photo I chose from the Pegman menu. I confess to being a bit of a renegade on this one. My story has nothing to do with Kanchanaburi or A. Rosenberg. You may recognize the characters in this story if you’ve read any of my books. 😉 However, this piece isn’t in any of them.
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 150
A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY
The rabbi shut his prayer book. “May HaShem grant us strength to see beyond our sorrow and may the name of Sarah Tulschinsky be blessed.”
Havah gazed at her sister-in-law’s newly unveiled headstone. Had it really been a whole year since the gentle woman who had welcomed Havah to America succumbed to pneumonia? She placed a large pebble on the marker.
Sarah’s nine-year-old son Jeffrey tugged at Havah’s sleeve. “Auntie, why do we put rocks on graves when Christians put flowers on them?”
Kneeling, she wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “What happens after you pick a flower?”
“It turns brown and dies.”
“Can a rock die?”
“Huh-uh.”
“A stone is eternal, like your mama’s soul. The more stones you see on a person’s grave, the more he or she has been remembered.”
Jeffrey opened his clenched fist and dropped a handful of pebbles. “I will never forget you, Mama.”
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 