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.
I’ve no doubt my friends who are writers will relate.
FAR AND AWAY
Her hair gleamed in the soft candlelight. Desire flooded him. No longer could he—
“Yoo-hoo, Mom.”
I flinch and stare at him. “What?”
He peers at me over his beer. “You didn’t hear a word I said.”
“What did you say?” I cut into my steak. “Mm. Underdone to perfection. I’m sorry, I had something on my mind.
My son, the professional wordsmith, winks. “You have the writer’s look.”
“What’s that?”
“Your body’s here, but your mind is far away in the hinterlands of your imagination.”
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.
I hope, for your sake, you can’t relate to his story. Sadly they’re often demons in clerical garb.
BANE OF MY EXISTENCE
The talented cleric in whiteface dubbed himself the love clown. His movements, were graceful and fluid. Hailed as a gifted artist, he brought Bible characters and stories to life. Nation-wide congregations welcomed him. He thrived on their adoration.
What a shock it was to learn he cared only for himself and how to control his followers. His cavalier narcissism left no room for benevolence.
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?”
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.”
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.
***
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.
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.
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.
This week the prompt took me back to a poem I wrote when my youngest son was somewhere between four and six. It’s been a long time ago. 😉 I wrote a lot of poetry back then as a means of journalling. I took this one out of mothballs and gave it a trim and an overhaul. The sketch is from the same time.
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Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 