• Skip to main content

Nadine Feldman, Author

celebrating strong female characters and whatever else strikes my fancy

  • Home
  • Reviews
  • Contact
  • Book Clubs
  • About Nadine
  • Sample Chapters
You are here: Home / Archives for NaNoWriMo

NaNoWriMo

Back In the Saddle

November 28, 2011 by admin

Good morning, everyone! I hope you had a great Thanksgiving with plenty of friends and family around. Most of our gang gathered at the home of my brother-in-law’s mother (follow that?), and we included my stepdaughter on a Skype call that allowed her to participate in the gathering, even though she lives in New York City.

As you know, I took a few weeks off from blogging. I had my hands full, and something had to give. Problem is, it was hard to choose. I’m lucky enough to fill my days with activities that I love to do…and the blog is high on the list. I love the immediacy of blogging, which balances the endless revisions that novels require. I enjoy “meeting” fellow bloggers and readers as we exchange ideas, both personal and political. While the hiatus allowed me to get various projects off my plate, it also made me a little grumpy! It feels great to be back.

In the past few weeks I have finished (and won!) NaNoWriMo, finished the layout to the print version of The Foreign Language of Friends, and got the house in order so we can sell it. We have purchased a home in Washington State, and I’ve been coordinating long distance with inspectors, learning about retaining walls and fault lines. Hubby worries that the house will one day go tumbling down the hill. Since it’s been there since 1936, I doubt it, but today the foundation inspectors will let us know for sure.

I would like to give a shout-out to my fellow Houston NaNoers, who provided cheers and encouragement during the month of November. NaNo is truly a wonderful experience where writers of all ages come together to help each other. I had the privilege, in fact, of doing a “write-in” with a couple of teenage girls in our new hometown. Despite the age difference, we were thrilled to find each other and to sit together as we worked on our novels.

This week I’m going to share my thoughts on Dr. Andrew Weil’s book Spontaneous Happiness. I figure I’ll also have plenty to say about the holiday shopping season, which began with a roar of…pepper spray? Really? As usual, I’ll recommend a blog and post some fiction, too.

Thanks again to all of you who have hung in with me and been so supportive during my time off. I hope to continue to develop this blog to provide content that is meaningful, interesting, and thought-provoking for women at midlife. To that end, if there is anything you want from me that you’re not getting, please let me know! I would love to hear from you.

Filed Under: NaNoWriMo, women Tagged With: books, Foreign Language of Friends, NaNoWriMo, novels

Gone Fishin’

November 14, 2011 by admin

To my dear friends in the blogosphere:

I am grateful to all of you who come and visit A Woman’s Nest and comment on my musings. Your comments and observations educate, inform, and inspire me. Blogging, so far, has been a rich, rewarding experience.

That said, I am in the process of redefining how I spend my day. Right now, with NaNoWriMo in full swing, I have my hands full with that…not to mention other projects that I’m juggling as well. I’m going to take a little break. I may just need a week to catch my breath, but maybe more. Who knows? I have learned in my life that when I take good and loving care of myself, everything works out for the best. So I’m taking a little vacation from A Woman’s Nest. I hope to be back soon, once I feel that my life is operating at a more even, balanced pace. I’m looking for a new rhythm, and to find it I need a little time to unplug and re-evaluate.

Thanks again for coming to visit me. I hope you’ll hang in there with me and come back to visit once I return. Hugs to all of you!

Filed Under: Life Changes, NaNoWriMo Tagged With: life balance

Blog Recommendation: Presence of Magic

November 10, 2011 by admin

Good morning! Greetings from Washington State, where we are spending the next several days figuring out where we would like to live. We arrived on the Olympic Peninsula later than we expected, in large part because I left my computer on the plane! Ugh. We were about 20 minutes away from the SEA-TAC airport when I realized what had happened. Hubby was kind enough not to yell, and an honest soul turned the computer in, so no harm no foul — just some brief frayed nerves.

My NaNoWriMo novel is on said computer. I wouldn’t have lost it, because I store my writing on Sugar Sync, so I can access it on multiple computers. Still, I wouldn’t have gotten much writing or blogging done on the trip!

Keeping up with other blogs is a challenge during NaNoWriMo. I’m over 31,000 words, and I’ve done it largely by avoiding other people’s blogs. Since I enjoy reading what my fellow bloggers are up to, it’s a sacrifice I don’t always enjoy. I still have to sneak around from time to time and read a few, just to feel like I’m staying connected. Maybe it’s because I’m here in Washington State, getting ready to house hunt, but I am feeling the presence of magic in my life, so it makes sense that I would find a blog of that name. I found Brynne Betz via the magic of Twitter, and I am thrilled! These are sweet blog entries that will make you smile. Check it out!

In the meantime, we’re eager to check out Port Townsend. We arrived late and saw nothing, so I have no idea what the town looks like. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say next week! Tomorrow I’ll add the next installment of The Foreign Language of Friends.

Filed Under: blogs, NaNoWriMo, travel Tagged With: Brynne Betz, good blogs, NaNoWriMo, Olympic Peninsula, presence of magic, Twitter, Washington State

Free Friday Fiction: The Foreign Language of Friends, Ch. 8

November 4, 2011 by admin

Good morning, everyone! I’m deeply enmeshed in NaNoWriMo and have drafted more than 11,000 words so far! Yay! In addition, I am nearly done with the layout for the print version of The Foreign Language of Friends, and next week I’ll do yet another round of revisions on Blood & Loam. It’s a full, busy month, but also a lot of fun.

Thanks for coming over for yet another chapter of The Foreign Language of Friends. Last week, Julia’s character sparked additional conversation, and we’ll see more of her story here. Mickey’s troubles are going to assert themselves, and she’s going to project a lot of anger onto Julia.

If you like what you’re reading, I invite you to consider investing the modest $1.99 to purchase the book…and please, I could use some reviews. Many thanks!

***

CHAPTER EIGHT – JUNE 27

One by one the students filed in to the classroom. Rita Martin always loved the beginning of the semester, when students still felt eager and hopeful that they could learn a new language. Soon enough they would start to disappear, and she never knew for sure who would last, though some were shaky from the start. But sometimes they surprised her.
Claire arrived first and marched up to Rita. “I’ve made a list of questions,” she said. “I also have ideas about ways to speed up the class. When can we talk?”
“Buenas tardes,” Rita said. “¿Cómo estás?”
Claire frowned, impatient to get to the point, but apparently decided that cooperation would bring the faster result. “Bien, gracias,” she said. “¿Pero, mis preguntas?”
Rita never lost her smile. “Your questions are important, Claire, but part of what I teach here is the culture as well as the language. If you are going to work in business in Latin America, you must do so with good manners.”
“Fine. Muy bien. ¿Y tú?”
“That’s ‘y usted,’” Rita said. “I am the teacher, so you will always use the formal form with me. Now, why don’t you have a seat? We will keep busy this class, I promise you. You will leave tonight with more knowledge than when you arrived.”
Claire took her seat with a sigh, which Rita ignored. Ellen strode in with the bulk of the other students, head down and glancing furtively for the seat most suitable for hiding. Mickey ran into the same desks she’d hit the week before, and Julia brought up the rear, rushing in at the last minute, frantically offering apologies.
“Okay,” Rita said, unperturbed, “Let’s begin.” The din of the room fell quickly to silence, save only for the sounds of books and notebooks opening. “We’re going to go through a lot of vocabulary today, so be prepared for a quick pace. For now, though, let’s practice our greetings.” She strode into the circle as students continued to settle themselves into their seats. From the center of the circle, she turned and pointed at each student at random asking questions. ¿Cómo está? ¿Cómo se llama? Mucho gusto. ¿De donde es? With each turn she became more of a dancer, twirling and animated, challenging each of them, correcting, cajoling, encouraging.
After about ten minutes of this, she said, “Bueno, bueno,” and clapped. The students reacted with nervous laughter, having survived this first test.
“Now, we count. Mickey, why don’t you begin? One to ten.”
Mickey tried leafing through her book, but Rita stopped her. “You can do this,” she said. “Do your best. It’s okay if it’s not perfect.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mickey said, dropping her eyes. She closed her book with a nervous bang, causing it to fall on the floor. Julia picked it up for her and whispered, “You’re fine. Remember, we studied this on Saturday.”
“You’re right. I can do this. Uno, dos, tres, cuarto…”
“Cuatro,” Rita corrected.
“Sí. Cuatro, cinco, um. Seis. Um.” Mickey looked up at Rita, her eyes wide with terror. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember the rest.”
“Claire,” Rita called.
“Siete, ocho, nueve, diez,” Claire said, her voice mechanical. She tapped her pencil and took a quick glance at her BlackBerry.
“Perfect. Remember, class, it’s the repetition that will help you in the end. The more you practice and listen to the recordings, the more you’ll remember. Let’s keep going, shall we? Who’s next?”
Rita saw students come and go for years, and students like Mickey generally didn’t last long. She always hoped to find ways to keep them from getting discouraged, and sometimes they worked, but more often than not students at Mickey’s level would leave before they could have a breakthrough.
Ellen, shy as she was, participated easily in the next several exercises. Rita expected Ellen to be prepared, but if she had offered a “most improved award” since the previous class, she would have given it to Ellen. At the break, Rita decided to ask her about it.
“We formed a study group,” Ellen said. “Well, Julia did, anyway, and some of us went along with it.”
“Bueno,” Rita said. “Excelente. I can see you already have more confidence. Who else is in the group?”
“Mickey and Claire.”
Rita did her best to hide a look of surprise. Claire didn’t seem like a joiner to her. “Ah, so you have a place to practice,” Rita said, nodding at Mickey, who had started to walk over.
“Yeah, it does help, I have to admit,” Mickey said, then added, “I’m still not sure I can learn this stuff, but it’s nice to have people trying to help you.”
“Sí, sí. Mickey, Ellen, I think this is wonderful. I wish more of my students would do such a thing. Where is Claire, anyway?”
“I think she’s outside on the phone,” Mickey said. “She said she’s working on some big deal and needed to call her assistant.”
“At this hour?” Ellen asked. “Wow, I don’t think I would like that job.”
“Julia, would you like to join us?” Rita asked. “I’ve heard that you’ve instigated a study group.”
Julia walked over, smiling but somehow more subdued than usual. “Guilty as charged. I thought it would be fun,” she said. “But may I ask you something, Señora?”
“Yes, of course, what is it?”
“Well,” Julia said, suddenly engrossed in the carpet at her feet, “Most of the time when my husband and I travel, we’re staying at a resort or a nice hotel, and I’m not really sure how I’ll get to use the language I’m learning. The staff always speaks flawless English. I know Mickey has been on some volunteer trips, and I wondered if you had any advice if someone like me wanted to do something like that.”
Mickey stared at Julia. “You? Really?”
“Why not me?” Julia asked, indignant.
Mickey reddened and looked away. Ellen jumped in and said, “I don’t think she means you’re not the type. We’re just a little surprised, that’s all. If you wanted to do some volunteering, I think that would be great. What do you think, Señora?”
Rita started to open her mouth, but Mickey jumped in instead. “Look, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, okay? I had a horrible time. I didn’t understand anything, and I don’t think I did anyone any good. I wish I could run off and just have a good time at a resort or something. Some people just don’t know how good they have it.”
Julia’s eyes filled with tears, but she said nothing.
Rita put her arm around Julia’s shoulders and gave Mickey a scolding look. “We’re here to explore,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice soothing. “We all have our reasons for being here, and sometimes they change as we go on. We shouldn’t judge each other. Mickey, I’m sure you did more good than you know, though I can understand why you were uncomfortable. That’s why you’re here, ¿verdad? And Julia, if you want to consider volunteering, I have a lot of resources for you to look at. Send me an e-mail, and I’ll help you as best I can. Now, ladies, shall we get back to class?”
Mickey and Julia stared at each other, faces guarded, like fighters in the ring, then broke and took their seats.
Mickey’s outburst had surprised all of them, and Rita wondered how long Mickey’s frustrations had been building. She had seemed so passive before, but the change didn’t surprise Rita. It helped, as a teacher, to have raised children herself, and Rita recognized a phase that her own daughter had gone through, perhaps more as a teenager, but it was clear: the girl was trying to get out from under the shackles of other adults. Rita just hoped she could keep the class intact long enough to get through Mickey’s phase. She also hoped that Mickey would see the other women as helpful support, and not more of the enemy.
The group settled in as the break ended, with one empty seat that Claire filled after class reconvened, offering a quiet “sorry.” Despite her impeccable appearance, her pale skin and puffy eyes suggested exhaustion. The word “haggard” came to mind.
“Now, we learn to tell time,” Rita said. She taught them additional vocabulary, such as de la tarde (in the afternoon) and medianoche (midnight). She explained the use of singular and plural, as in “it’s one o’clock” (es la una) and “it’s two o’clock” (son las dos). She followed her explanations with more rapid-fire review.
As students began to tire, the remainder of class felt disjointed, as though the difficulties that had emerged during the break controlled the rest of the class. Julia’s responses were hesitant, Mickey’s almost nonexistent. From time to time Rita noticed Ellen whispering in Mickey’s ear, and she chose not to confront her about it. Mickey obviously needed calming down. Even Claire, with her spotless professionalism, faded in and out of paying attention and seemed to struggle visibly. By the time it was over, Rita needed a drink. She always looked forward to class, but some nights she wondered why.

***

Mickey stomped out of class as soon as it ended. Who did Julia think she was, anyway? That rich bitch could do anything she wanted. Mickey didn’t know if she felt angrier that Julia lived a life Mickey only dreamed of, or that Julia was stealing onto her turf. The volunteer trip, though difficult for Mickey, set her apart from the others, and she wanted to feel special. She knew in her heart that part of volunteering was to encourage others to work with her, but Julia…well, didn’t she have better things to do, like deliver orders to her servants?
Unaccustomed to the rage that welled up inside of her, she decided to run the path around the campus, even though darkness had fallen. The path was well-lit, and joggers customarily traveled it well into the night. Mickey ran underneath the tree canopy, her nose catching wafts of pine as they fought for their place among the majestic live oaks. She knew that Doug would worry, but she didn’t care. She needed to blow off steam, and she hoped that running would help. Already, Julia’s pained face haunted her as shame rose to match the anger. She’s been nothing but nice to me, Mickey reminded herself. It’s not her fault that I have such a sucky life.
Her anger had arisen well before class, first becoming noticeable right when she got home from work. She had opened the mail to discover a notice that they had exceeded their limit on one of their credit cards. Doug had ordered a few more electronic toys. He never bothered to check with her, or to check the account balance, or to think about his spending ahead of time. He wanted the bright shiny objects, so he bought them, and then left her to clean up the mess. He was more than happy to let her parents contribute to their support, even if it meant following their rules. After just six months of marriage, their arguments about money had escalated.
Footfall by footfall, Mickey admitted the truth, as though she drew it up from the very ground that she ran on. Julia had already proven herself to be friendly, kind-hearted, and generous. She had organized the study group and seemed eager to keep it going, checking with each woman individually after class to make sure she was coming. She did not avoid Mickey after their altercation. At the end of class, she reached out to touch the younger woman’s shoulder and said, “Look, I didn’t mean to offend you, and I’m sorry if I did. I hope you’ll stay in the group.” Mickey had nodded, already ashamed in spite of the anger she still felt.
Running along the path, Mickey felt herself calming. She ran until her legs threatened to collapse underneath her. As she finished, her skin drenched with summer sweat, she felt cleansed, renewed. She was ready to go home and to face the real problem: a life that was not her own.
Doug jumped up from his chair as soon as she came in the door. “Honey, I was worried sick about you! Why didn’t you call?”
Although her anger toward Julia had dissipated, her anger toward Doug erupted with laser focus. She didn’t want to have this discussion. She just wanted all the problems to go away so they could be a happy newlywed couple, and her first words were, “I’m sorry. I should have called.”
“You better believe it! I didn’t know what to do. I even called your parents to see if you had gone over there for some reason.”
“My parents? You called my parents?” Anger turned to rage, and she knew that once again, she would not be able to contain herself. Nor did she want to. Without saying another word, she walked over to the stack of bills and handed him the overlimit notice. “You’re lucky I went for a jog before I came home,” she said. “Care to comment on this?”
He studied the notice, then handed it back to her. “What do you want me to say?” he asked. He didn’t sound angry or challenging. More than anything, he seemed helpless.
Mickey sighed. “Look, we don’t have a lot of money, and we need to stick to our budget. You have to know what’s going on with the bills and not just leave them to me.”
“But you’re the organized one,” he said, his doe eyes soft and pleading. “Besides, that’s part of your job. You know how I am. We men are more about the big picture. You’re the one who needs to keep me on the straight and narrow. We’ll be fine. You just need to relax a little. Once we’ve both finished grad school, we’ll both be making a lot more money.”
Oh, God, she thought, not that again. “I don’t want to start talking about grad school right now. It’s just one more thing that everyone wants me to do. Besides, it’s off the subject. We were talking about your spending habits.”
“Whatever. Anyway, your parents have offered to help us out. Maybe you shouldn’t have so much pride and let them give us a hand. There’s no need for us to suffer. Come on, Mickey, let’s just go to bed and forget about all this. It will work out.” He reached out and pulled her to him.
She melted momentarily once his strong arms surrounded her, but stopped and steeled herself against her attraction. “We’ve talked about that, too, and you know how I feel. I’m trying to have an independent life, and between you and my parents I keep feeling like I’m stuck in childhood. There are always conditions, no matter what they say, and you knew this before you married me. You seem to think it’s going to be different now, that I’m going to change, and I’m not. I want us to stand on our own two feet.”
“Fine,” he said abruptly. “I’m going to bed.” He turned around and left her standing there, still holding the notice.
“Doug!” she called. He did not respond. Don’t go after him, she told herself. He always did this, always walked away when he felt threatened. Over and over she had followed him, begging, giving in to him every time. Every time she did, he won.
When did it become a competition, all about winning and losing? She had seen the signs before they married, but he hadn’t been so stubborn then. He seemed to want what she wanted. She had asked him pointed questions about finances before they married to make sure they were compatible, and he’d always given her the right answers. Now, it seemed, he had changed the rules of the game.
She curled up on the sofa and turned on the television, keeping it low so as not to disturb him. It was always about him and his needs. These things always ended with some sort of negotiation, except that he never seemed to give up anything. He would go to her parents, and they would end up lecturing her. They would write a check that he would deposit before she came home. Was she wrong? Her mother had lectured her about marriage. “The man is in charge,” she said. “The woman is to submit to her husband. I honestly don’t know what we’re going to do with you if you refuse to learn this.”
She fell asleep alone on the sofa, waking once in the night, briefly, to turn off the television. The sofa felt good, and she decided to stay there. She covered herself with an afghan that she kept draped over the back of the couch, a homemade wedding gift from her mother, hoping that sleep would bring happy dreams to counter the nightmare of the marriage trap that was now her reality.

Filed Under: books, fiction, NaNoWriMo, women, writing Tagged With: books, fiction, Foreign Language of Friends, free fiction, NaNoWriMo, novels, women, women's fiction, writing

NaNoWriMo Ate My Homework

November 3, 2011 by admin

On Thursdays I like to plug the good blogging work of others, and it’s one of the most fun parts of my “job” here at A Woman’s Nest. I take great pleasure in finding interesting blogs and letting others know about them.

November, however, is National Novel Writing Month, and I am one of the crazies that is drafting a novel in 30 days. Given the other projects I lamented here a few days ago, I have to give up something. Sadly, for this week at least, it has meant giving up reading blogs.

Instead, in two days I have written 8,000+ words to a new novel, a family drama that begins at the Thanksgiving table. Three generations are each going through their own age-appropriate crises. The younger ones are trying to strike out on their own, though they still have tight ties to home that they are reluctant to give up. The older generation experiences the illnesses and deaths of dear friends that they’ve known since childhood, along with their own declining health. The middle generation, mine, wants to enjoy their midlife but are feeling weighed down by the needs of children and parents.

Of course, each generation is trying and failing to be heard by the other.

I do not plan in advance what I’m going to write. I have a loose outline to help me guide where I think the story will go, which I tend to toss out entirely in the first week as my characters hijack the story and start telling ME what it’s about.

So, I’m not going to keep hard and fast rules about the blog this month. I will do my best to keep up, but the NaNo calls, and I must follow.  If I normally read and comment on your blog, bear with me; I’ll be back soon.

To my fellow NaNoers: Keep on keeping on. You can do it!

Filed Under: NaNoWriMo, writing Tagged With: books, NaNoWriMo, novels, writing

Elephants in the Room and Elsewhere

October 31, 2011 by admin

Q: How do you eat an elephant?

A: One bite at a time.

If you want some elephant jokes that are real groaners, click here: The Top 131 Elephant Jokes.

Why are elephants on my mind? In this instance, I use elephant to describe any project that can generate a sense of overwhelm. And I am surrounded by them. There’s the NaNoWriMo elephant looming. Tick tock, tick tock — on November 1 we start writing as fast as we can. I’ve done little to prepare, other than jot down a loose outline of what the novel is about. Thankfully, on Saturday while out with hubby, the first scene started to unfold in my brain. Even the next day, after the wine wore off, it still sounds pretty good. So, my first bite of the elephant will be a chapter that introduces the three generations of my imaginary family at the Thanksgiving dinner table. I don’t know what happens after that, but if I have a beginning, I’m good to go. I may have nibbled off a toe or two of that elephant.

The second elephant is finishing LAST year’s NaNoWriMo winner, Blood and Loam. Now, for those of you who aren’t familiar with NaNoWriMo, you “win” if you write a 50,000 word draft. It’s like Little League, where everyone gets a trophy. It’s a great sense of accomplishment, but it doesn’t mean you’ve created a masterpiece. The real work begins with the revision process, and a year later, I’m still refining last year’s story. As of today, though, I have just 65 pages of revisions to go through before I finish yet another draft — and I’m hoping that I’ll just have one more after that before I feel justified in returning it to my ever-patient and ever-suffering editor. So, okay, I’m maybe down to nibbling on the last elephant leg. Burp.

The third elephant is getting the house ready for sale. We have sent multiple carloads to Goodwill and others. We discovered cool organizations such as The Green Bag Lady and Chemo Caps, where we donated fabric and yarn. We also sent some fabric to the Quilt Guild of Greater Houston, which also needs fabric for its charitable endeavors. On Sunday I organized boxes of products, most of them from my late in-laws’ house, that need to go to a hazardous waste facility. Now, the likelihood that we’re moving is darn near 100%, but even if we don’t move, we are finally whittling down years of accumulation to a modest collection of memories. I also started some work in the yard and realized that spiffing it up for when we list the house isn’t nearly as big as job as it seemed. We have a list of to-dos to accomplish before we put that “For Sale” sign in the front yard, but it’s all looking pretty do-able. We’ve eaten about a third of this elephant, I would guess.

Of course, when I clean out the house, I’m bound to stumble across some elephants in the room — you know, those things we don’t really want to look at. I’m not going to put those out on display, but let’s just say there are a few more elephants than I expected. The good news is, I am eating all these other elephants, and I can eat these, too. One bite at a time. At least these elephants don’t have calories!

Last night, just for grins, I watched Water for Elephants. I had read the novel a while back and loved it. Rosie the elephant was a (literally) larger-than-life character, misunderstood and treated cruelly. Everyone thought she was stupid until they realized that she responded to Polish. She was, in short, something seen as “other,” an outsider, something different and strange, and therefore inferior. I’m going to write more about that this week, especially on Wednesday, but we will leave elephants to the circus, the zoo, and the wild, and focus on people. I hope you’ll join me!

Filed Under: Life Changes, NaNoWriMo, writing Tagged With: chemo caps, elephant in the room, elephants, fiction, green bag lady, quilt guild of greater houston, water for elephants, writing

  • Go to page 1
  • Go to page 2
  • Go to Next Page »

Copyright © 2023 · Author Pro on Genesis Framework · WordPress · Log in