Friday Fictioneers

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What’s a Little Jet Lag?

Published November 21, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Last Wednesday I set forth from Belton, Missouri to Burbank, California with more than one mission. The primary one was to do a live interview on The Writer’s Block Radio Show. Although I could’ve stayed home and phoned the interview in, when I found out how close my son lives to the studio I made travel arrangements. To read my other two blogs leading up to this Click Here and Here

Yes, I do have a purple suitcase. Why do you ask?

Yes, I do have a purple suitcase. Why do you ask?

Thursday night came and with it butterflies in my stomach doing loop-de-loops. My son, Travis drove me to the studio and sat in on the interview. 

latalk-entrance

I felt a little nervous as I sank down in front of the microphone, reminding myself not to say, “Um” or “Er”. However, as soon as we went live, host Jim Christina and his co-host, Russ Avison put me at ease. It seemed more like sitting in someone’s living room having a great conversation than a question and answer interview. CLICK HERE TO LISTEN. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. 

latalk-warmup

Jim Christina

Jim Christina who took the time to research the pogroms in Eastern Europe.

la-talk-interview-and-shoes

Wearing my magic shoes.

russ-avison

Russ Avison, who read Please Say Kaddish for Me and asked some brilliant questions.

With the interview behind me, I spent the rest of the week getting to know my five-year-old granddaughter, Olive. It happened that her other grandmother Dru was also in town to spend Thanksgiving. I enjoyed visiting with her as well. art-time-with-oliveolive-and-bubster

We stopped in at the Bookstar Barnes & Noble in Studio City so I could sign two copies of PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME and two copies of FROM SILT AND ASHES. 

bn-bookstar2

Even though we weren't able to arrange a book signing, the manager was nice enough to order in my books and invited me to come in and sign them. (I suppose we could call this a book signing. Right?)

Even though we weren’t able to arrange a book signing, the manager was nice enough to order in my books and invited me to come in and autograph them. (I suppose we could call this a book signing. Right? Of course, right!)

L-R Grandma Dru, Jaimi, Travis with Olive and Bubbie Rochelle

L-R Grandma Dru, Jaimi, Travis with Olive and Bubbie Rochelle

Last but not least, a little artwork from the budding artist. Remember when Grandmothers carried brag books? Today’s Bubbie blogs. 

Poppie the Troll by Miss Olive Fields

Poppie the Troll by Miss Olive Fields

The highest point of the week might have been the moment Olive said, “I love you, Bubster.” 

 

18 November 2016

Published November 16, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudeberg

PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

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Genre: (Recent) Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

CODA

            Unable to lift her head, Jacqueline watched her husband sit at the piano.  “Please, play Brahms for me.”

            As he performed the lilting sonata, she imagined her cello strings against her fingers and felt the weight of the bow. With wide vibrato her now lifeless fingers slid from one note to the next.

            Daniel finished and sank down on a chair beside the bed.  

            A tear trickled from her eye. “Do you remember the night we met?”

            “I tried to accompany you.” He smiled. “It never dawned on you how difficult it was for us mere mortals to follow you.”

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jacqueline-du-pre-and-daniel-barenboim

Jacqueline du Pré and Daniel Barenboim

CLICK to learn more. 😉

When the research thread led me to Jacqueline du Pré I was immediately taken captive. Her talent, presence and tragic story sucked me in. Finding a short clip was next to impossible. The conductor is her husband Daniel Barenboim. I realize that classical music isn’t everyone’s style so there’s no need to feel obligated to watch the video. Shalom, Rochelle

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. 

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

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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Another Highway

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. 

Click Here to see the original post.

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

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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23 September 2016

Published September 21, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Friday Fictioneers and Poppy

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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 © Roger Bultot

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

PINOCHLE CHARLIE’S DAUGHTER

            Rose Borach’s heart sank. “Fania, don’t quit school. You’re too smart to end up like your worthless father.”

            “I won’t.” The skinny seventeen-year-old glided across the room with the grace of a ballerina. “My grades stink and I’m still in the eighth grade.” She sang, “Give my regards to Broooaddwaaay!” With an exaggerated curtsy, she kissed Rose’s cheek. “Someday you’re gonna see my name in lights.”  

            “What name? Borax? Jenny Waters? Muddy Waters?”

***

            Two years later in 1910, nineteen-year-old Fania burst through Rose’s door and flashed her newly signed contract. “Look, Ma, I’m in the Ziegfeld Follies. Me! Fanny Brice!”

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For those not familiar with this great lady of the theater, may I introduce on of my childhood heroes.

16 September 2016

Published September 14, 2016 by rochellewisoff

is

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PHOTO PROMPT © Shaktiki Sharma

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

WHITHER THOU GOEST

            Obed grunted and pushed but could not budge the heavy stone to grind flour.

            “You’re too small, son.”  Ruth handed him a bundle of sheaves and a mallet. “Here, thresh these for me.”

            His eyes shone like starlight reflecting off the sea. Her heart swelled with love for him leaving no room for loneliness.

            He pounded the barley kernels. “Tell me about my father.”                                     

            Obed’s face bore traces of both Mahlon and Mahlon’s Uncle Boaz, her beloved men, dead and buried. How do I explain Hebrew law regarding husbands and widows to a three-year-old?

            “To begin with, you had two.”

Click

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FSAA Front CoverA lovely review from GAH Learner. Thank you, Gabriele!

9 September 2016

Published September 7, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

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I’m not sure at this stage of the game when my next novel As One Must, One Can will be released. However this prompt is perfect for the following excerpt. The operative is excerpt and, admittedly, it is not a complete story. It is set in Kansas City, Missouri in the year 1908 where Arel Gitterman makes his living as a tailor. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 99

EXCERPT FROM AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN

            Two electric fans only circulated hot air, thick with machine oil and chalk dust, in the tailor shop. Arel’s rigid collar irritated his neck and he pushed his wet hair from his forehead. His sewing machine hummed and afternoon light glinted off the bobbing needle as he guided a shirtsleeve under the presser foot. A drop of sweat rolled down his cheek and dripped onto the cuff.

            Whipping the linen shirt off the table, he hurried to wash it before the stain could set in. A wave of nausea swept over him and a sharp pain seared his chest.

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Thank you to our own GAH Learner for such a lovely review blog of PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME. (Click title to read.)

Original Artwork - © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

AREL GITTERMAN – Original Artwork – © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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