My world and your world. Their world and our world. Where am I? Where are you? Where are they?
Somewhere, further down in this post, I will talk about tomorrow’s book launch. If you don’t want to read my prattle, you can go there now.
Things used to be easier in the old days. Worlds kept themselves separate. Facebook brings them all together. It’s hard.
One minute I’m reading about the topic that’s uppermost in the mind of all Israelis. Three teenagers were kidnapped by terrorists. Parents look at their children, knowing it could have been them. How can a sixteen-year-old cope with being held by people who want us all dead?
The next minute, without even scrolling or clicking, I see a joke and I try to laugh. Then there’s a beep and I have to read and comment on a totally unrelated topic. Yes, have to, because it’s part of my job of being a writer. I have to look away from my world and become part of yours for a while.
Yes, I know it’s happened to you, to. There was 9/11, 7/7 and all the rest. But when those things happened, all the worlds were feeling similarly shocked. Now, it’s just us. For everyone else it’s business as usual. Who cares about three boys?
Then there’s their world: the world of those who are euphoric over the news. I see that, too, when people post their pictures and comments, before I look away in disgust.
But I really wanted to talk about another world, one that is right here in Jerusalem. The other day, I walked into the haredi world to take pictures. But when I was there, I didn’t feel good about photographing them, even though no one took any notice of me at all.
Signs that make me feel unwelcome, Mea Shearim
I hurriedly snapped a few photos and escaped from another world where I don’t belong.
A street in Mea Shearim, Jerusalem
Esty, the heroine of Neither Here Nor There, did belong there. She grew up there. Her family and friends and everyone who knew her expected her to remain in that world for the rest of her life.
And they expected her to meet her future husband two or three times, sitting far apart from him so as not to touch him by mistake, before making a decision about whether to spend the rest of her life with him.
If you look carefully below the Old City walls that are lit for the Jerusalem Festival of Lights, you can make out the man on the left and the girl on the right of the bench
In my novel, I don’t make any judgements. My characters make judgements occasionally, but mostly this is a novel of discovery. The characters find out about the other world on their doorstep.
I’ve said enough for now. If you want to join in tomorrow’s festivities, which will include a competition, go to this Facebook page. You can join it now.
The task this week is to write 105 words including:
…. it was 50 years ago…
For the first time, I think, I’ve decided to write non-fiction for this challenge.
The Last Day
The last day of primary school. I remember it vividly, even though it was 50 years ago. Teachers and children actually wrote nice things in my autograph book. I strolled round the playground with one of the girls. She said, “I’m sorry we were so nasty to you.” I said, “It’s easy to say that now,” to which she replied, “But I mean it.”
If only she’d said that earlier, and followed her words with a change in her attitude, and encouraged her friends to do the same. I believe I would have been a very different person today, even though 50 years have passed.
The people at Crooked Cat (who are going to publish my novel, NEITHER HERE NOR THERE, in 20 days’ time) have produced an anthology of 20 short stories written by 20 Crooked Cat authors.
The wonderful thing about anthologies is the way they are so varied. Each story is written by a different author in a different genre with a different theme and set in a different place. And all of these are interesting, well-crafted stories.
I came to a decision about short stories: they need to be read in one go. Fortunately this is not hard, because each story takes only a few minutes to read. But it’s no good starting a story last thing at night when sleep will probably take over before I’ve reached the end. When I pick it up again in the morning, or later, it’s hard to remember what went before. Short stories are great for bus or train rides, as long as you’re going further than one stop.
I am very lucky to have a garden and even luckier that a variety of birds visit each day. At the moment we have 2/3 blackbirds who are really ruling the roost so to speak. They are beautiful song birds I know, but they are having a conversation. You can tell with the intonation of the sounds and the responses from another birds.
So, your prompt this week is to write that conversation!
Cherry Ripe
“Phew! My wings are aching. All that flapping. Whose garden have you brought me to now, then?”
“It’s Julia’s place – she of the hundred word challenge.”
“What good are words to me? I need food.”
“Coming from one who doesn’t stop talking…”
“I have a lot to complain about. We were just settling into our nest and now I have to build a new one.”
“But we finished the cherries in the old place. Remember? And look at those delicious cherries over there.”
I introduced readers to new authors, most of them fairly new to me, as I met them through Crooked Cat Publishing, who are going to publish my novel next month.
I read and enjoyed posts by other A-Z bloggers.
But, as always, I was constricted by time. Other activities got in the way.
I didn’t write all the posts in advance.
I didn’t read enough posts by other bloggers.
I didn’t comment enough.
Then, like last year, I went away towards the end of the month. I had a wonderful time, but it wasn’t so good for my A-Z Challenge experience. Maybe next year I’ll do better. And maybe not. I have my priorities. I wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to go away for the sake of blogging, important as it is.