Make Every Word Count

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Interview with Alicia

Published November 10, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Alicia Jamtaas is currently editing a manuscript that she hopes will take the world by storm – or at the very least, the Pacific Northwest – in a sunny room three stories up in the trees. As an active member of the writing community in Bellingham, Washington she derives inspiration from an outstanding group of poets, memoir writers, and novelists. During writing breaks, she occasionally chases deer out of her garden by frantically yelling, “Go away!” while brandishing a Cheez-It box. 

 

What made you decide to be a writer?

I didn’t decide to become a writer. Writing chose me. In high school, my best friend and I wrote in her kitchen about three or four times a week after classes. In my senior year, I won an award for creative writing. During my working years, I didn’t pick up a pen to write anything creative until the idea came to write a story about my experience as an archaeologist. The idea morphed into a young adult novel about the clash and blending of cultures through two young men—a Norwegian settler and a Makah Indian—in the 1800’s. Through the years it’s taken to write and edit my YA novel “The Rain Cape” I’ve taken time out to write another novel about a small fishing town in Washington State.

What is your favorite genre?

I like a variety of genres: Historical fiction, mysteries, biographies, history books and short stories.

Why?

I believe that as an author, it’s best to expose oneself to a variety of books and authors, not just for their entertainment value—after awhile authors mentally edit almost every book they read—but to learn new styles and expand one’s vocabulary.

Who is the author who inspires you the most?

I can’t say there is only one author that inspires me. James Lee Burke’s stories are well constructed and his use of language poetic. Louise Erdrich whose in-depth Native American characters and settings helped keep me focused on “The Rain Cape.” Jonathan Safran Foer for the way he seamlessly interweaves the past and present. Annie Proulx. Peter Matthiessen. Actually, there are too many to list.

How often do you write?

I try to write every day. When I’m in the middle of a novel I could write for hours but force myself to step away from the computer to rest my eyes and my brain. After about three hours the creative juices slow down. After four they stop.

Do you have any major projects in the works?

Yes, I’ve just begun a novel about a young woman caught in throes of domestic abuse.

What are your writing goals for the future?

To keep writing as much as I can, every day. There is such peace in sitting down to create a world with characters you love—or love to hate—that you will someday share with others.

What advice would you give other writers?

Try not to turn criticism and rejection into something personal. Taste in writing and literature is individual. Some people will be absorbed by what you’ve written; others will be happy to detail exactly what they don’t like about it.

Another thing is to make sure you get your work out where people can see it. It doesn’t have to be a major publication. An editor or agent may contact you after reading your work in a small journal. An opportunity may arrive from a place you never expected, but you must give people a chance to find you.

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Many thanks to Alicia for the interview. It’s great fun to learn more about another writer. Alicia is also a regular participant in Friday Fictioneers. I hope you enjoyed visiting with her as much as I. 

11 November 2016

Published November 9, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 98

I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU

                                                                                                                                       August 1953

Chère Maîtresse,

            Today I hold my firstborn, Lois Marie. Marie is for my mother of blessed memory who perished before I turned nine.    

            Remember how she shoved me into your tender arms at Camp de Rivesaltes? Remember how you kissed away my tears? Why did you leave your comfortable home to spit in the face of death?

            “It is my purpose,” you said.  

            Although I’ve been criticized for naming my Jewish baby after a living gentile, it’s only right to honor the American angel who combed the lice from my hair.

            Je ne t’oublierai jamais, Lois Gunden.

*Note: It is an Ashkenazi Jewish tradition to name a child after someone, usually a family member, who has passed on. To a certain extent it’s believed that the soul of the loved one lives on in the child who bears his or her name. 

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Lois is one of the “righteous gentiles” honored at Yad VaShem, the Holocaust museum in Jerusalem.

lois-gundenTo learn about this courageous woman more click here. 

November’s Guest Storyteller, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Published November 5, 2016 by rochellewisoff

I’m honored to be Sarah Potter’s guest storyteller this month. My story is more than 100 words and one of my favorites. 😉

Sarah Potter Writes's avatarSarah Potter Writes

door-shot-other-side

Kansas City native Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is a woman of Jewish descent and the granddaughter of Eastern European immigrants. She has a close personal connection to Jewish history, which has been a recurring theme throughout much of her writing. Growing up, she was heavily influenced by the Sholom Aleichem stories, the basis for Fiddler on the Roof. Her novels Please Say Kaddish for Me, From Silt and Ashes and As One Must, One Can were born of her desire to share the darker side of these beloved tales—the history that can be difficult to view, much less embrace.

She is also the author and illustrator of This, That and Sometimes the Other, an eclectic anthology of short stories.

Before becoming an author, Rochelle attended the Kansas City Art Institute, where she studied painting and lithography. Her preferred media are pen and ink, pencil, and watercolor. Her artwork is featured…

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4 November 2016

Published November 2, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE NIGHT AMERICA TREMBLED 

            In 1938 my dad sprang for a new RCA Victor 7K1 console.

            The radio took a prominent place in our home. President Roosevelt’s voice filled our living room. I loved Charlie McCarthy. My sister adored Bing Crosby.

            One night, putting the finishing touches on my Halloween costume, mom turned the dial. “Ramon Raquello and his orchestra.”

            I rolled my eyes. “Boring.”

            A panicked voice interrupted. “Ladies and gentlemen this is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed…”

            We cowered, believing, as many Americans did, invaders from Mars had landed. What a pity they weren’t real and didn’t devour the Reichstag.

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“…it was intended to be the Mercury theater’s own version of dressing up in a sheet and jumping out of a bush and saying, ‘Boo!’ Starting now we couldn’t soap all your windows and steal your garden gates by tomorrow night so we did the next best thing.” Orson Welles, October 30,1938

 

28 October 2016

Published October 26, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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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. 

NOTE ON THE GREAT PROMPT FIASCO: When this went up this morning (02:30 my time) the prompt did not appear. I’ve now fixed the problem and you should be seeing the prompt. For those who wrote in its absence, kudos. For those who are coming in later and can see the prompt, it is NOT OK to choose a different photo. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Peter Abbey

PHOTO PROMPT © Peter Abbey

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Four years ago, this week, Madison Woods, the creator of Friday Fictioneers turned her baby over to me. Becoming the FFF – Friday Fictioneers Facilitator is one of the best things I’ve ever done. A rousing THANK YOU to all who faithfully participate.

Shalom,

Rochelle

***

Busy-ness abounds this week. Therefore, I’m cheating. The following story isn’t exactly a story, but the opening paragraphs, as written, of the first chapter of AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN. Naturally, I hope this might whet your appetite to read the rest of the book. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BREATH AND SHADOW

Afternoon sun streamed through the tall classroom windows and cast long shadows across the dusty floor. On the chalkboard in rigid script was written, “9 October 1907, Wednesday.” Arithmetic problems in childish scrawls covered another blackboard on the opposite wall.

Behind her desk, the teacher sat with rawboned fingers clasped on top of her attendance book. Her hair was parted down the middle and pulled back from her face into a severe bun.

Under the teacher’s spectacled glare, Havah fidgeted on the hard chair. “What did my Reuven do that was so terrible?”

“He gave another boy a black eye.”

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MISS KLINE Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

MISS KLINE Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

REUVEN - Original Artwork ©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

REUVEN – Original Artwork ©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

 

 

 

 

HAVAH -Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

HAVAH -Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

 

 

 

 

the proof is in which means more editing. Release date to follow soon.

The proof is in which means more editing. Release date to follow soon.

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.” aliciaWay 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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.jeff-and-rochelle-circa-1960-with-border

14 October 2016

Published October 12, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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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. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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. 

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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

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.”

Thank You, Jeanie!

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.

center-reunion

Can you spot me? My shoes?

hs-rochelle

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.

these-shoes-are-for-you-jeanie

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

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!

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.

Framed Fruma Ya'el

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

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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PSK Cover

 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

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Amazon Amazon Spain  Amazon Italy  Amazon Germany  Amazon UK  Amazon France

Watch for the third in Havah’s Series!

COMING SOON!

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

FIC

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PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BORN ON THE 4TH 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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iva-toguri

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