Nadine Feldman, Author

celebrating strong female characters and whatever else strikes my fancy

creativity

Daffodils and New Beginnings

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They are peeking up through the soil, these first beacons of hope for a spring after a long winter. I don’t want to wish my life away, but I dream of the day soon when vivid yellow blooms dot my largest garden bed. Right now it’s a blank slate, but after the daffodils come, it won’t be long before other green shoots emerge from the ground.

Don’t be fooled by the delicate flowers. Daffodils are tough. In my case, they survived when I didn’t get them all out of the ground in the summer. The ones I did, I forgot to replant in the fall, so they were stuck in a box in the garage. Doesn’t matter. The ones in the ground are quite happy, and the ones in the box were already sprouting, just waiting for me to tend to them.

Last week I sent The Factory Girl and the Fey to my editor for the last time. The past three months have been intense as I have combed through it over and over again, answering her questions and filling in more detail to the story. As of today, it’s the best I can do without her sharp professional eye.

Winter was the perfect time to work on the manuscript. With all the snow and cold, the last thing I wanted was to go outside, though I stole some walks on better days. Now that it’s spring, what do I plant, both in the garden and in my writing life?

There are two manuscripts vying for my attention. One has been through a few drafts and a developmental edit of the first 50 pages. The other is a rough draft, about 65 pages of initial thoughts. One is a plant that needs repotting, the other is a tiny seed just starting to sprout.

This week I will choose which to work on. Both are equally compelling to me. But one thing I have learned from daffodils, is that whatever I do will probably be just fine.

What are you planting this spring, whether in your garden or in other areas of life?

If you like this blog, please consider purchasing one of my books listed on my homepage. Thanks!

Daffodils in Vase Image by Michi-Nordlicht from Pixabay

One More Walk with Julia

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She looked sad as she moved to the front of the room. For a moment I thought I saw tears in her eyes. Turns out I was right. As author and teacher Julia Cameron took the stage, she opened by telling us about a long-time colleague of hers who had died two days before. She asked us to send prayers and then bravely began the weekend workshop.

This is the level of authenticity I have respected and admired for more than twenty years. Julia has written more than forty books, and she has never tried to present her life as perfect. In her searing memoir Floor Sample, for example, she details her challenges with mental health issues. Yet her honesty never feels self-serving or pitying. It’s life, baby, and the cure for the pain is self-compassion and making art. On that she never waivers.

Having practiced The Artist’s Way all these years, I have experience firsthand how it changes lives. When I first pulled the book off the shelf in the summer of 1997, I was a writer who didn’t know how to start writing. Previous attempts had resulted in a great deal of creative wounding, even from so-called writing teachers.

Seeing Julia again (my third time), I was still surprised at how the simple tools of Morning Pages, Artist Dates, and fill in the blank exercises could pull so much out of me. Late in the weekend I felt breathless, stripped bare. Several days later, I am still processing what happened, noticing subtle and not-so-subtle shifts…everything from deciding to order a decent blender to digging in deeper to my novel-in-progress.

As a long-time veteran, I was pleased to meet so many people who were new to the book. Some had been given a copy years before and felt like the time is now. I was able to share the many changes life had brought as a result of doing this work: several books, with more in process; a college degree at age 45; multiple new interests, including gardening; an amicable divorce (a direct result of doing Morning Pages); and a happier, healthier marriage.

For an entire weekend I got to have “real” conversations with people, tossing aside small talk and pretense in favor of what was in our hearts. We laughed, we cried, we hugged, and we rooted for each other’s success, regardless of our chosen art form(s).

At the end of the weekend, I felt renewed. And Julia no longer looked sad. Her blue eyes were bright and merry in spite of her grief.

For me, the workshop was a chance to see the master in action once again, and to bring my love and gratitude. I came to The Artist’s Way because I wanted to write. What I gained was that and so much more.

Day 2 of 3 Quote Challenge #3dayquotechallenge

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John Muir Quote

 

The Three Day Quote Challenge continues! I couldn’t NOT include a quote by naturalist and conservationist John Muir.

When I lived and worked in Houston, I would pack my lunch and go outside when it wasn’t too hot. Right next to our building was a large grassy area with park benches and a fountain.

Sometimes in the elevator a co-worker would ask me what I was doing. Many times I heard, “Wow, I’ve never done that.” Here was a lovely strip of nature right outside the office, and people frequently ignored it.

After many hiking vacations, we could no longer live indoors with air conditioning. The pull of fresh air and the woods grew too great, and we moved to western Washington where we could be outdoors as often as we want.

Doctors and mental health researchers, more and more, are looking at the physical and mental benefits of time in nature, and there are numerous articles such as this one online. Nature Deficit Disorder is a popular phrase these days after Richard Louv wrote Last Child in the Woods.

I don’t need a study, though, to tell me how much it matters for me to connect with the great outdoors every single day.

Outside, whether I’m in the garden or walking the many wooded trails that wind through our town, I am at peace. Some days I have to drag myself out there, but five minutes later I’m rejuvenated. Throughout my day, between bouts of writing or research, I’m out the door. Here, in a small town, I can connect with sunrises and sunsets, with equinoxes and solstices, with subtle shifts of temperature that tell me of a change in seasons or an early spring.

Maybe if our politicians and lobbyists spent more time outdoors, our national priorities would be different.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have berries to pick.

How about you? Do you get to spend time in nature? What’s your favorite outdoor activity?

 

 

 

Feels So Good to Finish

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I don’t do “projects.” I do long-term relationships. I started my novel-in-progress more than two years ago, and it’s just now shaping up enough for me to think about sending it to an editor. Lord knows when it will be done, though I’m hoping by year-end. I’m forever walking the line between optimism and soul-crushing disappointment as I live with this story over and over and over and over again.

That’s why it’s nice to finish something, anything. And to finish a large project, well, that’s particularly exciting.

So today I reveal to you a new bedspread, a year and a half in the making. The pattern of the double wedding ring is common in quilts, but this is a knitted version. Turns out that for the cost of the yarn, I could have bought a hand-made Amish quilt, already done.

Knitted Double Wedding Ring Quilt
Knitted Double Wedding Ring Quilt

But where’s the fun in that?

The pattern for this, if you are a masochist dedicated knitter like I am, can be found on Ravelry. It’s easy to knit, but putting all those pieces together? Oy. 1,080 pieces make up the rings, and the assembly alone took more than six months.

As with all long-term relationships, there’s the thrill at the beginning. You can’t wait to get started and get to know each other. Each day brings new discovery and excitement, and you want to spend all your time with your new love.

Then one day, you’re sick of your beloved. The relationship isn’t as easy as you thought it would be, and you want space. Maybe you cheat, taking on a smaller project on the side, such as making sweaters for your granddog, or patchwork throws from spare yarn. You have to re-evaluate your commitment.

What all the cool dogs are wearing!
What all the cool dogs are wearing!

Yet when the relationship is real and true, though, you hang in there until you get to the other side, and you fall in love all over again. You notice how the relationship stays with you even on your worst days, waiting patiently without judgment. It’s worth all the trouble and hassle and time.

Under the bedspread at night, I am cozy and safe and secure, the same way I feel in a relationship that works. And as I enjoy the satisfaction of completion, I am buoyed again and know I can finish anything I start, even those pesky manuscripts that aren’t yet ready to release.

With our beloved, whether a person or a project, if we hang in there, we can be more than we thought we could. Safe and secure and warm, we can soar.

Do you have projects that take forever to complete? Please tell me I’m not the only one! 

 

Bedspreads and Novel Writing: It’s the Little Things

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A few weeks ago I got it in my head that I wanted to knit a bedspread. I don’t know why. These notions just sort of show up, and I either wait for them to pass or jump on them. Usually I jump on them and am sorry later as I ask, “What did I get myself into this time?”

So, of course, I’ve jumped in. Again. I’ve given up the quest for self-improvement in favor of self-acceptance, so all I can do is shake my head, smile, and say, “Yep, that’s what I do.”

After some searching, here’s the pattern I settled on. It’s easier than it looks, because I’ll make a lot of little pieces that I then sew together. Of course, making a lot of little pieces can get tedious. I started knitting the little colored strips…80 of them for each of 13 colors. I don’t like doing math, but I can tell you, that’s a lot, and those pieces represent just part of the quilt.

It’s no coincidence that I’m revising a novel at the same time. Without boring you with all the little details, it feels much the same as working on this quilt. There is the whole that is the ultimate goal, which I’m reaching by working on thousands of little, tedious pieces.

I’m reading The Wonder of Aging: A New Approach to Embracing Life After Fifty by Michael Gurian. Based on what I’ve read so far, it would appear that this new approach to quilting, writing, and life is a reflection of my age and current stage of life. I’m okay with taking time to work on the little details. Yes, I’d like to write books faster than I do, but I’m more interested in writing better. Eventually I’ll have enough of those little pieces done to put them together in one of the rings. Eventually I’ll read through a draft and say, yes, this one’s ready to go to the editor, because I’ve done my best.

It seems curious and paradoxical to want to slow down the process. There is so much to write! So much to get done! Sometimes it feels maddening to become more deliberate, more thoughtful, less action-oriented. Yet somehow, I suspect, I will get more done. My drafts may go more slowly, but I will need fewer of them (I hope). In the end, I hope to have a beautiful heirloom quilt and a beautifully written book to share.

The Sauerkraut Meditations

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Maybe it started when I was a kid, learning to do long division. I made up simple problems and practiced, over and over. One of my sister’s friends, observing this, either saw an opportunity to nurture my emerging geekiness or wanted to get rid of me (I suspect the latter), so she made up a big problem with lots and lots of numbers. “Try this one,” she said, laying down the gauntlet.

“I can’t do that,” I said. My voice trembled and I felt a churning in my stomach. “I’m just a little kid.”

“Of course you can,” she said. “Just do the same thing you’ve been doing, just more times.”

Turns out that she was right; dividing a big number was exactly the same as dividing a small one. Thrilled with this new discovery, I spent far more time than is healthy for a young girl practicing my problems, making them bigger and bigger. I know, I know, I was a weird kid.

I’ll get to the sauerkraut, I promise.

In my 30s I decided to pick up embroidery. Did I try a simple flower to start with? Of course not. I bought a Noah’s Ark kit, complete with a literal boatload of animals, a rainbow, and a smiling, bearded Noah with his family. I drove myself crazy with that thing.

When I moved to Port Townsend, I saw many women around town with their knitting and decided that I wanted to knit, too. I’d learned at my grandmother’s knee, but hadn’t done much in, oh, a few decades. So of course, I started with a skirt. A lot of cussing and crying went into it, as I’ve written about on this blog, but I finished it.

The Infamous Skirt. Thankfully, it's finished and I wear it!
The Infamous Skirt. Thankfully, it’s finished and I wear it!

That same year, I decided to can tomatoes. Fifty pounds of them. A friend gently suggested that I could have started with ten pounds, but I was having none of that. I wanted enough tomatoes to last the winter. After all, canning fifty pounds is the same as canning ten, right? You just make more batches. I stood on my feet in the kitchen for two days straight, but by God, I got my canning done. Cussing and crying? Of course.

When I first started working with a teacher to learn to use a spinning wheel, she looked at my first, tense efforts and said, “Ah. Overachiever.” Of course, that didn’t stop me from staying up late at night to practice, with more cussing and crying along the way.

These are habits that I’ve lived with for nearly fifty years (I’m assuming that I wasn’t born this way, but I might be wrong). Can an old dog learn new tricks? Can I find the balance between curiosity and chaos?

I figured out that if I work on a simple knitting pattern, I can watch television and chat with my hubby at the same time.

Here's something MUCH simpler, and it's nice and warm in the winter!
Here’s something MUCH simpler, and it’s nice and warm in the winter!

Which leads me to the sauerkraut.

I’ve taken an interest in food fermentation. This relationship has built slowly over time. I’ve made my own yogurt off and on for years, and I prefer the taste of homemade yogurt to even the best store-bought stuff. Last year, after buying a bottle of kombucha (fermented tea) in a store, I finally felt like I’d found something to help me break my long-time addiction to a certain diet cola. While I haven’t entirely gotten “clean,” the kombucha helps. Since a 16-ounce bottle costs about $3.50 in the store, though, I decided to start making it myself as a practical matter. I don’t make fancy flavors, just the straight stuff, and I continue to be amazed at the fizzy carbonation that occurs on its own.

Now I’m ready for the next step. I’ve bought a few books on food fermentation because I’ve heard about their health benefits. Plus, it’s a cool way to preserve food.

The books all say the same thing: start with sauerkraut. It’s easy, they say.

I don’t even know if I like sauerkraut. I remember eating the canned stuff as a kid, and I was NOT impressed. However, now that I’m eating garden-grown organic foods, I’ve discovered that I like carrots, radishes, and all kinds of foods that I thought I hated. So…this week at the market I bought myself a couple of kohlrabi, which, I’m told, makes a nice sauerkraut, and it’s now on my kitchen counter fermenting away. I took a little taste this morning, and it’s coming along nicely.

A batch of kombucha next to its sister, the sauerkraut (and some recently harvested herbs)
A batch of kombucha next to its sister, the sauerkraut (and some recently harvested herbs)

As much as I love to learn, and as much as I enjoy playing “mad scientist” in the kitchen, what I am most proud of is that I’m learning to simplify. I don’t have to pick the most complex projects to start with, and I don’t have to try all the recipes at once. I can allow myself the adventure of trying something new without putting myself straight into overwhelm. After years of yoga and meditation, I have finally found some peace in a little Ball jar of sauerkraut.

Of course, the staggering number of tomato plants on the deck might suggest otherwise…

 

In my defense, I planted these from seeds, which is why I ended up with so many!
In my defense, I planted these from seeds, which is why I ended up with so many!