Nadine Feldman, Author

celebrating strong female characters and whatever else strikes my fancy

writing

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.

Delight!

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When the Fair Folk, the Fae, the Fairies, showed up in the manuscript for Factory Girl, my first impulse was to shoo them away. I had an idea of what the story was about, especially since it is based in part on an actual life.

But the magic of the Fae will not be denied. As with other stories I have written, the story that wants to be told will stomp its feet and hold its breath until I pay attention. Woe be to me when I do not!

As I have finally surrendered to this development, I have moved beyond researching Scottish folk tales and into the play of it. I ordered fairy houses and other delights for my new garden. I am enjoying The Faerie Handbook: An Enchanting Compendium of Literature, Lore, Art, Recipes, and Projects by the editors of Faerie Magazine (now called Enchanted Living). Yes, there is a magazine! Who knew? I’m also reading Faeries by Brian Froud and Alan Lee, filled with art and essays about the Fair Folk.

These new activities are activating something unusual in my ordinarily serious nature: delight. At 60, it appears I am finally reclaiming the joy of childhood.

Yesterday I added some text to Factory Girl where Jane sprouts wings for the first time. It was an extraordinary moment for me. Jane’s life is filled with challenges, and Factory Girl takes a hard look at life in industrial 19th-century Scotland. The magic of Factory Girl does not diminish the harsh realities or even make them easier to bear. Rather, it is about the curious thing that happens in our lives when great sorrow and great joy coexist side by side with each other.

Delight is not about ignoring the suffering of the world. It is about finding that which is beautiful so ugliness does not consume us. It is about finding joy that resides within us even when life is hard. It appears I still have much to learn from the Fae. I’m so looking forward to share with you what they are sharing with me!

A Writer’s Life is Many Lives #WDC18 #amwriting

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As I come off this year’s Writer’s Digest Conference, I am thinking about how fortunate I am. I get to do work that I love, and when I spend time around other writers, I am among incredibly generous and supportive people. As author Steven James said during his “Story Trumps Structure” workshop, we are in a rare business where people who could be our “competition” come and share everything they know. He likened it to Apple going to Google and sharing all their secrets.

The magic, of course, is that there is  no competition. Each of us has a unique story to tell, so the more of us the merrier. We don’t have to elbow anyone out of the way.

Back home, I am once again immersed in my projects. For one, I am reading about artists, particularly female and self-taught. Think Grandma Moses as one of many examples. I’m also learning to draw and watercolor. I’m not doing this because I want a new hobby, though I suspect I’ll keep at it because it’s fun. No, it’s a way to understand my main character better.

While I continue my research for that novel, I am living (in my mind) in late 19th-century Scotland. This story idea has sent me to Scotland twice and the old mills of Lowell, Massachusetts; introduced me to proletarian novelists such as Elizabeth Gaskell (think contemporaries of Dickens); and introduced me to genealogy.

When I wrote What She Knew, I studied the victims and perpetrators of the Madoff Ponzi Scheme. I was fascinated with the movers and shakers of Wall Street and what would happen if one of them actually grew a conscience.

In short, as a writer I get to live many lives. I get to play dress up and try on new identities. I get to peer inside the heads of my characters, who I grow to love as if they are real people and real friends.

This is a good life. A happy life. A fulfilled life. Last week I met a lot of wonderful writers who share this journey with me, and I am looking forward to getting to know all of you better.

 

Sabbatical

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This is the year I turn 60. Earlier in the year, I started to ponder what I wanted for this new decade. Granted, we can’t control every aspect of our lives, especially at this age, but I wanted to create an intention for what can be a very special time. I considered taking a sabbatical, time to just “be.” I’d start it around my birthday, I reasoned.

During a meditation in April, though, the message was clear: start NOW.

What would a sabbatical look like? After all, I don’t have a day job. The kids are grown and on their own. Somehow the thought of a sabbatical from a life that’s already amazing felt, well, self-indulgent. Lazy. Selfish.

Still. Something needed to change. I needed to re-examine. Did I want to keep on writing, for example? For a few months my work had felt stale, exhausting, and no longer fun. The business of writing is something I have never enjoyed. So I decided to stop. For how long? I had no idea. I shipped two manuscripts off to editors, which got them off of my desk and allowed me to take a break.

After a bit of searching, I found the book Pause: Harnessing the Life-Changing Power of Giving Yourself a Break by Rachael O’Meara. Using this book as a guide, I set out on my new journey.

In the stillness and quiet that followed, I realized that I had ignored some annoying and sometimes disruptive health issues. Surprisingly, my first act of sabbatical was to seek a functional medicine doctor. This was easier said than done, so while I shopped around I changed my diet, removing gluten, dairy, and refined sugar. This brought some immediate relief, if not full recovery (yet).

Then I looked at ways to have more fun. I took a gardening class to further hone my skills. I took a botanical art class and started drawing for the first time in nearly 50 years. I signed up for cooking classes at a local restaurant. I read.

In the process, I discovered that I missed writing. By the time the first manuscript came back, I was refreshed and eager to write again.

These days my life looks much like it did pre-sabbatical, but in a sense it still continues. I have started taking social media breaks on the weekend. I am part of a meditation group that meets online every full and new moon. I make sure I take a break from exercise every week. My health and enthusiasm are returning!

As O’Meara points out in Pause, not everyone can afford to take time off. But even if it’s time to soak in a bath, or turning off the phone or television, or staying away from social media, we can all find tiny bits of time to unplug and rejuvenate. Even a few minutes of time to ourselves to rest can make a difference. Whatever happens with the arrival of this shiny new decade, hopefully I will take sabbatical rituals, big or small, along with me.

In what ways do you replenish and renew?

Feeding Time

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Pear Tree in Bloom
Pear Tree in Bloom

This is the time of year when garden tasks are more of the geeky variety. I’m testing soils and making up batches of fertilizer for each of my garden beds. Some need a lot, some just a little. It’s feeding time. It’s a time of listening…to what the garden needs, to Mother Nature’s whims of rain or sun, and to my own energy levels as I reconnect with “spring muscles.”

I didn’t always understand the importance of this time. A relatively new gardener, I wanted the showy plants but didn’t like taking the time to feed the ground.

Yet when the ground is properly fed and composted, the plants grow better, it’s easier for the beds to retain moisture in the dry season, and the food I harvest is healthier. By taking time to test the soil and give each bed the foundation it needs, I will have greater abundance in the end.

Beds waiting for food!
Beds waiting for food!

I’m taking the same approach to my writing. Today is the official release date for What She Knew (though I had to make it live sooner to do a Goodreads giveaway). For months I have worked behind the scenes, getting industry reviews, setting up advertising, etc. Soon the blog tour will begin. I didn’t do this with the last novel. Hopefully with this one I will find a way above the noise and find some readers…but in any event, I have fed the soil, and the results are starting to bear fruit.

Hyacinths: blink and you miss the flowers.
Hyacinths: blink and you miss the flowers.

Here’s to spring and to feeding time!

The Goodreads giveaway for What She Knew goes on until April 1, so it’s not too late to sign up! Also, to celebrate the paperback release of What She Knew, I’m offering the Kindle version FREE through April 1!

Happy New Year! #IWSG #amwriting

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It’s the first Wednesday again, and time for the next monthly installment for the Insecure Writer’s Support Group. This is where we writers provide support and encouragement to each other. Join us!

Thank you to this month’s co-hosts: L.G. Keltner, Denise Covey, Sheri Larsen,  J.Q. Rose, Chemist Ken, and Michelle Wallace. And of course, a special thanks goes to our fearless founder and leader, Alex J. Cavenaugh! I hope you’ll visit their blogs in appreciation for their contributions to our merry band of writers.

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January 2, 1996…twenty years ago. My then-husband and I woke up with the flu. Since we were both sick, there was no one to take care of us, and it was a nasty bug.

Three days later, he went back to work, still ailing but better. For me, though, the story was different. I didn’t get well. Day after day, week after week, month after month, I woke exhausted, my body alternating between freezing cold and burning hot, my lymph nodes swollen, my digestion disrupted.

The eventual diagnosis of CFIDS (Chronic Fatigue and Immune Dysfunction Syndrome) didn’t help, as the cause is unknown and the path to treatment unclear.

During the months in bed, I had a lot of time to think. All my life I had wanted to be a writer but always let life get in the way. Now, with my brain addled and little ability to concentrate, I wondered: was it too late? Did I squander my chance?

I don’t often “bargain” when I grieve, but this time I did. Make me well, God, and I won’t forget.

I was one of the lucky ones. Eventually, I did get well…and I didn’t forget my promise. In 1997 I found The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, which helped me get started. In October 1999 I published my first book, When a Grandchild Dies: What to Do, What to Say, How to Cope (the link is for the 15th anniversary edition).

The life changes that resulted were extraordinary, and here I am all these years later, proud to be a novelist who has completed her second novel and sent it off to industry reviewers. There’s another novel in draft form, and I am swimming in ideas for more books.

More than anything, writing has made me more whole, more authentic, happier. As a side note, when I met my current husband, I gave him a copy of When a Grandchild Dies…it made him want to get to know me better.

It took a debilitating illness for me to wake up and live. It took that moment in time, twenty years ago, when I no longer had the choice to ignore who I really was. Every day that I can write, that I do write, is a remarkable gift. Yes, writing is hard. Yes, it’s frustrating sometimes to find readers. Yes, reviews can be upsetting.

But to be writers who do not write…that is a tragedy.

My hope for you, my fellow writers, is that 2016 brings you joy, peace, health, and a wealth of ideas to explore. May you find readers who resonate with your words. May you look self-doubt and insecurity in the eye and say, “Thanks. I’m doing this anyway.”

How was your 2015? What are your dreams/goals/plans for 2016? Do tell!

What She Knew is now available for pre-order! I hope you’ll take a look. *