Voice of a Spanish Dancer – It’s Not the Destination but the Journey

Published May 11, 2015 by rochellewisoff

To see if my technique and form are correct, I recently watched a video on the mechanics of the flip turn. The instructor described the flip turn as the most efficient way for a swimmer, once she reaches the wall, to turn back and swim toward the other wall. Not only does it retain energy, but it’s the best way to maintain momentum.

The flip turn is one of my favorite things to do in swimming and, according to the online swim instructor, I’m doing it correctly.

I don’t think about mechanics while I’m in the water. For me there’s an ethereal quality. It’s a different world beneath the surface. I tuck, turn a somersault and gaze up at a crystal ceiling. Then, pressing my feet against the pool wall, I flip over and catapult myself in the opposite direction.

In a few months I will retire from my day job. In my younger days I viewed retirement as the end to real life where I would sit on park benches and feed the birds or languish in front of the television in a vegetative state.

Nowhere is either of those activities part of my plan. My first novel debuted last week. The sequel is due to be released in December. I’ve begun work on a third novel, the last part of the trilogy.

For me the flip turn is not only an enjoyable part of swimming but also a metaphor for my life. I’ve come to one end of the pool. With renewed vitality, I tuck into a ball, press my feet against the wall, flip and catapult myself into life’s flow.

Available from W & B Publishers

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And for those of you who want to know what a flip turn looks like:

8 May 2015

Published May 6, 2015 by rochellewisoff

The next photo is the PHOTO PROMPT. It’s an oldie but a goodie. To a handful of you it will be familiar.

PHOTO PROMPT – © Madison Woods

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A couple of weeks ago I wrote an unstory that I titled THE ULTIMATE COP OUT, this week I’m simply copping out by posting a rerun. With proofing, illustrating and a second novel coming out on the heels of the first, life is a busy proposition. (And there’s the full time job thing.) For most of you this is a new prompt. For those who have written a story for it, feel free to share it or write another, or take a week’s vacation. 😉

The following story is one of my husband Jan’s favorite of my flash fictions. I originally posted this on July 25,2012 when Madison Woods was still leading the pack. Since then our numbers have nearly tripled.

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 97

SNARL

“Nice doggie,” whispered Jolie.

Huddled against the fence she faced a mouthful of Pit Bull teeth. Which would be worse—the whipping she’d get for losing Grandma’s ring or to be eaten alive by a junkyard dog?

A few inches from the behemoth’s haunch, moonlight glinted off the sapphire. With her eyes fixed on his, she slid her hand toward the ring, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

But he snapped to his feet with a roaring bark and lunged.

Her heart thrashed against her ribs.

In one ferocious bite the Copperhead skulking toward her met a grisly fate.

ORIGINAL POST

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.Available from W&B Publishers

1 May 2015

Published April 29, 2015 by rochellewisoff

The next photo is the PHOTO PROMPT. Does it tell you a story? Write it in a hundred words or less.

PHOTO PROMPT – © Dee Lovering

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

FINAL SOLUTION

“These madmen take everything,” cried Leah. “They brand us like cattle because we are Jews and you do nothing?”

“How does one fight a pack of rabid dogs?” Abraham rubbed a painful lump on the back of his head. “Finish packing. We set sail in the morning while we still can.”

“They cannot have my grandmother’s bracelet.”

“Leave it! What’s a bauble when our people are being exterminated like cockroaches?”

Letting the bracelet fall from her fingers, she collapsed into his arms. “España is our home.”

“Querida, you are my home. 1493 in Portugal—it will be a better year.”

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Jews were forced to wear golden-yellow badges for identification. There’s nothing new under the sun.

History Lovers Click Here

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My novel, Please Say Kaddish for Me, is still available for preorder at a reduced price here.The Kindle version is available for preorder at Amazon.com.

Published by W&B Publishers

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

10 April 2015

Published April 8, 2015 by rochellewisoff

The following PHOTO is the PROMPT. Where does your mind travel? Take us there in a hundred words or less.

My story follows the prompt and the link frog. I welcome honest comments and crit.

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Dear Friday Fictioneers,

Some of you may have noticed a lack of my comments and replies last week. My editor and I have been up to our eyeballs in novel edits. I hope to catch up soon. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

A heartfelt thanks to my editor and friend for sacrificing his time to help me untwist, un-hyphenate and smooth out the rough edges of the soon-to-be published PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME.

Shalom,

Rochelle

PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast

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Gere: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

ONLY THE MOUNTAIN REMAINS

My dearest Zhilan,

This night my thoughts turn toward home and you. I cherish the times we invited the moon to join us as we shared rice wine. Remember how we dreamed I would find Gold Mountain?

Now my journey is hard and my days are filled with the pickaxe and train tracks. Never will I see you again, my fragrant orchid, nor our precious son…

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“Fever musta took him.” Levi knelt beside the body and pried a piece of crumpled paper from its stiff hand. “Whatcha make a this?”

Orville squinted and shrugged. “Jest some ignorant Chinee scribbles.”

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More

3 April 2015

Published April 1, 2015 by rochellewisoff

The following photo is the PHOTO PROMPT and comes from Lauren Moscato by way of Amy Reese. What does it say to you? Watch your step and tell us a story in one hundred words or less.

PHOTO PROMPT © Lauren Moscato

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

MOVING UP

Bevy was a splash of color on God’s palette. When it came to interior design and giving parties, she was an artist without equal.

Every Monday we met for dinner with Bevy and George. On one such night we compared house-hunting woes.

“You should see the monstrosity George liked,” she said with a pained grimace. “Metal walls and a window air conditioner in every room.”

“Hey,” he said with a shrug, “it’s big enough for entertaining.”

A week later we learned she’d been keeping a secret.

Today heaven’s awash with color and celebration while my world’s become a dingier place.

Character Study – Fruma Ya’el

Published March 27, 2015 by rochellewisoff

The most dramatic operation she [Fruma Ya’el] had done in twenty years was to extract a well-deserved bullet from Pinkas Rabinovich’s backside after a tavern brawl. Never did she imagine she would be called upon to perform such grisly surgery as she had on a poor orphan. She wiped the amputation blade with her rag and laid it in the mahogany case between a pair of scissors and a scalpel. What else could she have done? Sometimes life left one no choices.

Taken from PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Although Havah’s introduction to Fruma Ya’el is a painful one, she will become one of the most important people in the girl’s life.

Fruma Ya’el Levine, the cantor’s wife, is a one of Svechka’s most beloved citizens for she is the village midwife. She is proud of the fact that she’s seen most of the babies’ faces before their own mothers. Her great love of children has earned her the title of Auntie Fruma.

In her youth she had the opportunity to immigrate to America to study medicine, but tragic circumstances barred the way. Trapped in an arranged and empty marriage, she pours her love into her only living child, Gittel.

Fruma Ya’el sees in Havah the passionately intelligent girl she used to be. Little by little an ironclad bond forms between them.

Published by W&B Publishers

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

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As a child growing up in a Jewish family, it never occurred to me that not everyone had a Hebrew name. My friend Lori Ginson was proud of her Yiddish/Hebrew name “Fruma Ya’el,” meaning Pious Strength of God. However Lori was a troubled soul and died much too young. I think she would be pleased that I gave her name to one of the strongest characters in my novels.

Lori “Fruma Ya’el” Ginson

1962-2004

27 March 2015

Published March 25, 2015 by rochellewisoff

The following photo is the PHOTO PROMPT. Does it ignite a song in your heart? Sing it in one hundred words or less.

PHOTO PROMPT ©David Stewart

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

CURTAIN CALL

“What’s to become of me?” whispered Minnie as she sat beside the hospital bed and gazed at her wrinkled hands that used to make the piano sing.

“Mama?” Maud opened her eyes. “The concert…the audience…I let them down…”

“You have a little gastritis. You’ll be well enough for your concert on January 8th.”

“Do you love me, Mama?”

“Who made sure you practiced your violin twice a day?”

“You did.”

“Who sacrificed everything so you could study in Europe and become the famous Madame Powell?”

“You did.”

“And don’t you forget it. I did it all for you.”

“Did you?”

For more about Maud Powell

Character Study – Arel Gitterman

Published March 20, 2015 by rochellewisoff

“Havah saw him as if in a dream remembered long ago. His hair and beard, inky shadows, framed a face as pale as dawn. Like silver-gray clouds, his prolific eyes spoke with silent words.

Arel. A strong name. Lion of God.”

Taken from PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

Published by W&B Publishers (Summer 2015)

Arel Gitterman - Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Arel Gitterman is the youngest of Yussel’s five children and his only son. Arel was five-years-old when brain fever killed his mother and took his father’s sight. A gifted child, he became Yussel’s eyes for reading.

He’s always been an obedient son, groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps as the next rabbi. At the age of thirteen he was betrothed to Gittel Levine, the cantor’s* daughter.

Arel’s never questioned his role in life—until the day of Havah’s dramatic arrival in Svechka. For both he and Havah it was love at first sight.

Much to her chagrin, he’s a man of his word and he refuses to break his covenant with Gittel, Havah’s adopted sister.

*The cantor sings or chants prayers in synagogue service.

The following video is the Kaddish prayer that Havah chanted the night of her escape from Natalya. It is the prayer that’s traditionally recited or sung in honor of the dead. Rather than a prayer for the dead as some believe it’s a prayer honoring the Almighty. Here it’s sung by a Hasidic cantor.

Translation:

May the great Name of God be exalted and sanctified, throughout the world, which he has created according to his will. May his Kingship be established in your lifetime and in your days, and in the lifetime of the entire household of Israel, swiftly and in the near future;

and all say, Amen.

May his great name be blessed, forever and ever.

Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled, honored elevated and lauded be the Name of the holy one, Blessed is he- above and beyond any blessings and hymns, Praises and consolations which are uttered in the world;

and all say Amen.

May there be abundant peace from Heaven, and life, upon us and upon all Israel;

and all say, Amen.

He who makes peace in his high holy places, may he bring peace upon us, and upon all Israel;

and say Amen.

20 March 2015

Published March 18, 2015 by rochellewisoff

The following photo is the PHOTO PROMPT. What story does it tell you? Share it in one hundred words or less.

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 99

GULF

On fragrant spring afternoons, on the mossy stone patio in Arlene’s backyard, we shared sandwiches, secrets and giggles as only little girls can. In summer we waded in the creek that ran behind her house and tried to catch tadpoles that tickled our bare toes.

When we entered junior high, Arlene withdrew and when I tried to talk to her about it, she turned away as if I no longer existed. I never knew why or whether I had done something dreadful to offend her.

The questions, answered by silence, scarred my heart. Fifty years later, the ache remains.

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“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” –E. E. Cummings

There’s no time like the present to get over the past and get on with the future.

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13 March 2015

Published March 11, 2015 by rochellewisoff

Note: When linking your story, backspace over the info in the middle box and leave your name. It makes it easier on everyone. Thank you. Let me know if you have any questions.

My story follows the PHOTO PROMPT below and the inlinkz frog. I appreciate honest comments.

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

RADIOACTIVE

“Au revoir, mon ami.” Marie kissed Pierre’s ice-cold cheek.

“Where Papa?” asked fourteen-month-old Eve.

“He’s going to sleep his last sleep beneath the earth,” said eight-year-old Irène.

Marie placed a bunch of periwinkles and Pierre’s favorite photograph beside him. The picture was of her on the balcony of their first apartment on rue d’Allemagne. Refusing a black drape, she and her daughters adorned his coffin with flowers.

“I’ve no future without you, Pierre.”

“Remember our dream for humanity,” she heard him say, “for science.”

Days later Madame Marie Curie returned to the laboratory, her haven of discovery, joy and solace.

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