Meow.
Last year, I wrote on this blog that I struggled with creating the annual Purim newsletter I co-write with my husband. Well, this year, I wrote an essay about it for Tablet. You can read it here.
And if you don’t live in L.A., but do want to see this year’s edition of the newsletter (and other freebies throughout the year), you can fill out this form. I’ll put you on the mailing list!
I’m mortified. Having recently come to grips with the necessity of getting a Facebook account, I’ve now succumbed to Twitter. You can’t apply for the new Amtrak Artist Residency program without it, and you can’t get some writing gigs without it (because they want you to publicize), and now I’ve joined the flock.
I actually took a class last year about Social Media from Carol Tice and Linda Formacelli, and so I’m not totally incompetent at stuff like this. I just feel like I’m incompetent at this kind of thing.
If you’d like to follow me on Twitter, you can find me @KlempnerJots and read what I’ve got to say about about the world of books and magazines and all sorts of random things that appeal to me.
I read a fascinating essay in The Jewish Journal today.
Publisher-about-to-go-on-sabbatical Rob Eshman relates a recent visit he had with young Israelis, when he had the opportunity to explain why Jewish newspapers have had such a prominent and consistent role in the life of Jewish Americans.
The major reason Eshman highlighted was the importance of communication between communities and unifying them to promote certain, common agendas. He also touched on how this role has changed, from an institution what taught Jews how to become good Americans–find jobs and acclimate to their new environment–to an institution which “teach[es]Americans to be Jews.”
This latter element particularly struck me. As Eshman mentioned, many Jewish magazines and newspapers exist primarily on the web. In fact, that’s where they now find the majority of their readers.
Jews who live outside major Jewish communities–due to geography or due to a lack of affiliation–can now access information about their co-religionists via websites like The Jewish Journal‘s, The Forward‘s, Kveller, and so on. Need a latke recipe? Look online. Need advice about how to handle the funeral of a relative? Look online. Such sites bring community to people who previously felt excluded.
In the Orthodox world, even, you find magazines devoted to Jewish cuisine, divrei Torah (words of Torah, including all of Tanach, the Oral Law, and commentaries), inspiration, and advice from the Jewish standpoint.
This year, in preparation for Purim, I’ve been rereading the megillah at a class given by my LOR (local Orthodox rabbi). Of course, it’s not the first time I’ve read The Book of Esther, as it’s called in English. We do that every year on Purim–twice! And it’s also not the first time I’ve learned it with this particular rabbi. But it is the first time I’ve read it with commentary, guided by my rabbi, since I officially became an author (whatever that means). And boy, is there a difference.
A Purim Spiel in Poland. Photo shared in the Wikipedia Commons by Henryk Kotowski.
When you’re writing fiction, there is a big no-no that you’re told never to do: rely on deus ex machina. In short: don’t get your characters out of a tight corner by dropping a deity down from the sky to perform an instantaneous rescue. The audience will roll their eyes, at best.
The term originated with actors playing deities in the theaters of Greece. But for a religious writer of a different persuasion in the 21st century, it causes problems. Continue reading
Okay, so for those who have no idea what the title of today’s post means, I’ll clarify:
Don’t you wanna dress up for Purim?
The Hebrew month of Adar contains the wacky holiday of Purim. The thing is, when there’s a leap year, there’s an entire extra month of Adar–because if you’re going to have a month that comes twice, it might as well as be the one that’s known as the happiest of the year. But there’s only Purim in the second Adar.
After a month of tolerating a giant “SIKE!” the second Adar of 5774 started yesterday. Jewish kids everywhere are going crazy. Continue reading
Rebecca Klempner 