A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s comment section.
QUARANTINE
“It itches, Mommy.” My feverish two-year-old pointed to a cluster of blisters on his chest. “Make it stop.”
“Sesame Street Live is out of the question.”
“But I’m not sick.” Six-year-old Simon whined. “It’s all Trevor’s fault.”
“Pretty sure it’s Chicken Pox,” I told Margo, the company secretary. “It’s making the rounds at daycare.”
Fortunately, Trevor had a mild case. An easy week—alas, without pay.
Fourteen days after Trevor’s outbreak, Simon woke with a bumper crop of unwelcome lesions.
Covered from stem to stern, Simon whined. “It’s all Trevor’s fault.”
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!
A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s comment section.
YELLOWISH
They agreed on house colors—grey with black and white trim. Her excitement mounted. “No more ugly green. How about a purple door?”
His face became an obdurate fortress. “Plain white is fine.”
“Boring.” She pointed to a pastel sample. “This. ‘Fun yellow.’”
When the paint arrived, it was much brighter. He fumed. “You said ‘funky yellow.’”
“You misheard.”
She grins when the neighbors compliment her door. “Score one for the missus.”
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 word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it Sammi’s Comment Section.
Word Prompt
Downpour
Challenge
We hope history doesn’t repeat itself. 88 words on the button, not including title.
I HEARD GOD LAUGHING
Although overcast, no rain befell us Saturday morning. Excited energy prevailed over the park full of local artists whose crafts ranged from jewelry and ceramics to paintings and photography. I hoped this two-day fair would be as successful for me as last year.
Patrons crowded my tent.
“Beautiful work.
“Magnificent watercolor technique.”
Sprinkles gave way to downpour. I tried not to let it dampen my spirits.
That was then, this is now. I fill out the application.
Nothing can stand in my way—except for, maybe, a plague.
A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s Comment Section.
Counting on my fingers, to make sure I had the right number of syllables…I give you Haiku
Today Pegman ventures to the Dominican Republic. The island is rich in culture and heritage, chock full of wonderful possibilities for the alert storyteller. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to wander around until you find something that inspires you to write up to 150 words, then link your post using the blue frog below. Remember that reading and commenting on fellow contributors’ work is part of the experience.
Do your best, and have fun! Thanks to Josh and Karen for hosting.
Genre: Fiction (probably someone’s reality)
Word Count: 150
This story stands alone, but is also a sequel to my Friday Fictioneers offering this week. Couldn’t help following Mr. and Mrs.Hap 😉
PARADISE MISPLACED
Basking in the ocean breeze, Gretchen stood on the balcony of their hotel suite gazing at the clear blue Caribbean waters. Although her marriage to Jared had a rocky beginning with him blowing a rod on the way to their wedding, she had no doubt the honeymoon would be perfect.
“La Rupiblica Dominica. I can’t wait to swim. I’m glad I took español in school. Didja notice how the waiter smiled when I ordered our dinner in his language?”
Behind her, Jared playfully nibbled her neck “That chicken dish was scrumptious but not as tasty as my bride.”
Gretchen’s stomach gurgled. “Speaking of food.”
“You’re looking a little green, darlin. I’ll go buy some 7-Up to settle your tummy.”
A cramp seized her. The floor tilted as she made a mad dash to the commode.
In the other room, Jared slammed drawers and wailed. “Hells bells, someone’s nabbed my wallet!”
***
*Note here’s a LINK to the story I wrote when Pegman visited the Dominican Republic two years ago. I almost reposted and then decided not to.
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 word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s Comment Section.
When I figure out how to keep the machine threaded I’ll finish hemming my jeans.
NEEDLES AND THUMBS
I referred to it as home wreckanomics with good reason. I hated cleaning and I was a disaster in the kitchen. At twelve, I’d already set my sights on, one day, becoming a professional artist. I’d never be Suzie Homemaker.
I only took the class because seventh graders were offered two of three “electives”—music, homemaking for girls and shop for boys. No art class until eighth grade. Boo. Hiss.
I still have nightmares of trying to make baked Alaska for a class presentation. What? You don’t dump sugar into the egg whites all at once?
Then came sewing. We were to make simple shifts. I chose a white cotton duck fabric with a red, white and blue nautical theme. I actually wore it once or twice before it mysteriously disappeared.
A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s Comment Section.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 