Nadine Feldman, Author

celebrating strong female characters and whatever else strikes my fancy

yoga

Book Discovery Tuesday: Fierce Medicine by Ana Forrest

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With her new book, Fierce Medicine: Breakthrough Practices to Heal the Body and Ignite the Spirit, world-renowned yoga teacher Ana shares her story of healing from a childhood filled with abuse and neglect. Through yoga, horses, and time spent with healers, she found power and strength, and she travels the world sharing her methods with others. Each chapter includes part of her story, then ends with suggested exercises to free the body of physical, emotional, and psychic pain.

I first saw her in the dining hall of the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health. In the midst of a meal, I suddenly felt compelled to turn around. I saw a lean, fine-boned woman with black hair pulled into a simple braid that went down her back. Her body looked young, but her face showed her age, and I guessed, correctly, that she is a few years older than I. I couldn’t seem to stop staring at her–she had that “something” that made me curious, a sort of in-your-face strength. I thought, I want me some of that.

When I went home, I bought her DVDs. The practices in both were challenging but safe, and I immediately adopted her approach to neck position, which reduces strain in the neck during practice. Then I bought her five-CD set, each with a two-hour practice. These routines are far more difficult than the DVDs and are not for beginning students.

Eventually Ana came to Houston, as many local yoga teachers here have studied under her and adopted her style. I attended one of her weekend workshops, and yikes! After several 2.5 hour classes, I felt like I had hit and crossed my limits. Still, in person, though she is powerful, she also carries a softness about her. She is funnier and more compassionate than she seemed at that moment at Kripalu. I could see why so many have adopted her style.

Still, I had questions. Forrest is well known for jaw-dropping demonstrations, and I wondered if I was viewing a true yoga master or someone with a huge ego who needed to show off. I also wondered why she never mentioned her teachers. And why all the emphasis on the physical aspect of yoga, which is but one small piece of a practice?

I found many answers to these questions in Fierce Medicine. With characteristic in-your-face directness and humor, Forrest describes how she learned more from unknown teachers than the so-called celebrity teachers. She also describes her approach to yoga in great detail and in a way that made sense to me. Finally, I understood that the demonstrations are to help people break through their notions of what is possible. As I mentioned, she’s older than I am (I’m 52), and I like having people in my life who expand my vision.

Most important to me as I read the book, was that Ana’s vulnerability and humanity shone through. She is honest and forthright, and I trusted her more as a teacher as I learned more about the person. Her journey from abuse, alcoholism, and drug abuse to healer is an extraordinary and well-written one.

Some of the practices in this book are challenging (handstands are an example), and I would advise those who are interested to try beginner-level classes with a Forrest Yoga teacher. Forrest Yoga is challenging but safe in a classroom environment. If you are not working with a teacher and/or have health conditions that limit movement, you’ll need to be more careful. Still, even if you don’t practice yoga, Fierce Medicine is an inspiring story of a courageous woman.

 

Conference Preparations

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22 days and counting down to the Writers’ League of Texas Agents and Editors Conference to be held in Austin June 10-12, 2011. This is my second conference, having attended two years ago when Patchwork and Ornament was named a finalist in the memoir category. This year I am presenting Change of Plans in hopes of landing an agent. One of my fellow writers on the She Writes website told me today that she found her agent at a conference, so I’m hopeful.

While I’m working diligently on my draft, making changes suggested to me by Diane Tyrel, who as a professional writer and editor has become my new best friend, I’m also working on my mindset for the conference. I have some work to do in that regard.

First, I’ve been an independent publisher for so long that I’m reluctant to go the “traditional” route, but I suspect that this reluctance is more about fear of rejection. Yes, it’s not easy to land an agent or publisher, but I haven’t really tried that hard–yet. I think that sitting down and speaking with an agent will help alleviate those fears. I’ve met more and more women who are writing successfully using agents and publishers, and they’ve actually enjoyed the process! Today, in my She Writes critique group chat, an eighth grade student joined us and wants to be in the group for the summer. I guess if she can step out of her comfort zone at her age, so can I.

Second, I’d rather sit behind a computer than schmooze, and conferences are all about schmoozing. I like meeting other writers and listening to what they’re writing about, but we are to be prepared at all times–you never know who you might meet in an elevator, and several agents have found longtime clients that way. Part of getting comfortable is to come up with a short pitch, which I’m sure I will repeat like a mantra on the drive to Austin, so that it comes out sounding relaxed. The last time I went to the conference, I stayed at a different hotel, which was a mistake since it didn’t allow me the opportunity for those chance meetings. This time, I promise not to hide out.

Finally, part of changing my mindset is letting go of the outcome. Change of Plans is my best work yet and shows a maturing of my writing skills, and whether or not I find an agent, I can be proud of this book. Really, sometimes I forget to acknowledge myself for just finishing the darn thing, let alone creating something that would appear to be both publishable and marketable. Why not just go to the conference and have a good time? Wow, there’s a concept. Maybe I’m growing after all!

I’m spending more time on the yoga mat as I prepare, even changing up my practice for this event to address my natural jitters. I’m dusting off Jeff Davis’s The Journey from the Center to the Page, which helps me connect my yoga practice to my writing practice, and I’ve downloaded some yoga classes from teachers I admire and respect. In this way, I hope to go to the conference with an open mind and heart, and a willingness to learn from the experience–regardless of whether I get what I want.

Effort and Surrender

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As a longtime yoga practitioner, I have spent many hours on the mat in a variety of asanas, or poses. Over time, I have developed some personal favorites: triangle, pigeon, seated bound angle, to name a few. I also confess that I don’t like several poses: bridge, especially when held for a long time, and anything in the warrior series. It’s no coincidence that the ones I like best are those that come most easily. Doing them, I feel the pleasure and joy of yoga, which increases with age as my body continues to open and extend like a much younger person.

Yet we commit ourselves equally to the poses that are harder to do. I remember struggling with half moon, a balancing pose, for months on end. For some reason, my body didn’t understand the pose, and it probably took two years before I could do the pose comfortably and consistently. I was determined to master the pose and kept at it, and the day I could do it well I felt as though I was flying. Same thing with upward bow. I can’t always do this pose, but when I do, I am exhilerated.

As a writer, I have had the interesting challenge this past year of the relatively easy novel (Change of Plans) and the difficult novel (Blood and Loam). With Change of Plans, I had trouble getting started, but once I had the beginning in place, I finished the first draft in about three months. I continue to refine and revise while I send out queries, but I find this novel deeply satisfying, pleasurable, and fun.

Blood and Loam, which has now morphed into a new genre and first person point of view, has frustrated me. In its umpteenth revision over a period of years, I still haven’t quite captured what I want to with the story. I’m closer than I ever was, and when I switched to first person and moved the setting to 1970, it took on a whole new life. New possibilities opened up, and I saw a deeper opportunity in the story to address my serious concerns about our current political landscape by drinking from the well of another turbulent time–all within the small story of love and betrayal in a small Midwestern town.

Some years ago, I had been taught to believe that if something was meant to be, it would feel effortless. Certainly that has proven true with Change of Plans, but I don’t agree that this is true in all cases. Yes, it’s true that many novelists have that one novel in their drawer that they worked on forever, that came to nothing in the end. Maybe Blood and Loam will end up there. I don’t know that yet. I believe that the act of working on it, just as with the act of practicing a difficult yoga pose, will deepen me as a writer, and so I continue.

Now I’m off to do that other difficult writing pose, the query letter!

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By the way, if you want more ideas on connecting yoga to writing to help open creativity, check out Jeff Davis’s The Journey From the Center to the Page.

Reconnecting to the Blog

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Author Sherman Alexie wrote that the more words you put in your blog, the less words you’re putting into your novel. I paraphrase, I’m sure, but that was the gist of it. He’s right, but I think I’ve taken his advice a tad too far, having disappeared from this blog for several months. I spent that time writing a novel, tentatively titled Change of Plans, which only took six months to draft versus 20 years for Blood and Loam, which I continue to revise. Now it’s time for a little balance. Yes, Sherman, I believe you, but I’m in the revision phase, and blogging allows me to continue to write without making heavy commitments to a new project. I need to write every day, or I get cranky. So there.

I first encountered Alexie’s work many years ago in an independent bookshop in Albuquerque, New Mexico.  The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven, a collection of connected short stories that would later appear in movie form in Smoke Signals, literally fell on my head. That got my attention. Later, after reading other works by him, I heard him speak in Houston and stuttered and stammered as I stood in front of him for a book signing. Given our long literary relationship, then, when I read his comment about blogging I decided to heed his advice.

Besides, I needed time to figure out what this blog is about. I wrote about writing and travel, but the garden had started to take over, and I wasn’t sure what to do with that. Before 2010 I couldn’t tell you a thing about gardening, and suddenly my passion for the subject threatened to hijack this blog and turn it into something very different from what I had intended.

I also needed to step away from the whole blogging as marketing thing. Yes, I sell books, and I won’t turn anyone down who wants to buy one, but more than anything I want to connect with others, writers or not, who may have an interest in what I have to say. I write because I breathe, whether or not anything sells, and I hope not to stop writing until I stop breathing.

The net result of my pondering is that I have moved my gardening thoughts to a new blog, Art of the Garden (artofthegarden.wordpress.com). Also, if I feel the need to write about yoga, which I do from time to time, I’m putting those musings on the YogaHub.com website. If you are into yoga, check them out for some cool online yoga programs.

As I move forward into 2011, I am seeking agent representation for at least one of the novels, maybe two. I’ll share those adventures, along with some upcoming fun stuff: a literary tour of Massachusetts in April, and a writing retreat in Vermont in May. I’ll introduce the characters in Change of Plans and share stories of how this book developed and what I see for its future. I’ll talk about what’s going on at She Writes, where I’ve increased my involvement. I’ll share details of the annual Writers’ League of Texas Agents and Editors conference. I’m currently working on the text for a yoga relaxation recording that I’ll offer for free to anyone who is stressed out. In other words, there’s no shortage of possibilities as to what I’ll write about here, and the year is just getting started!

It’s great to be back. Thanks, Sherman, for getting me to write a novel. I’ll take it from here.

This, Too, Has Passed

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Finally, finally, today I ended my writer’s block. I spent time on the new novel, re-reading, adding to it, and creating transitions for the next part of the story. How did I do it? In a not-very-dramatic fashion, I scheduled it and then sat down to write. That’s it. No magic. No visit from the Muse. No big “Ah ha!” in the night. Ask most writers, and they will tell you that the secret to writing is putting the butt in the chair. They’re right.

Still, there are things we can do to stoke the fire, to bring about a personal renaissance when one is needed. For me, that means going back to the basics. Each morning, before I get up, I write three pages longhand…a trick from Julia Cameron and The Artist’s Way. For some time now, I have been lazy about the pages, doing them haphazardly, sometimes stopping in the middle. For the past few weeks I have made myself do them, sometimes kicking and screaming, for one simple reason: they work. I feel better.

In our Morning Pages, we are advised to put down whatever we are thinking or feeling, regardless of how petty or bitchy it is.Not coincidentally, my pages today raised bitchy to a new level. I unloaded my frustration so I would free myself from it…no beating around the bush, no denying that I was pissed off, no pretending I was happy when I wasn’t. What a relief! And better to put it on the page than to yell at my hubby.

For the past few weeks I have also focused on regenerating my yoga practice. While I do yoga consistently, my practice has felt stale for some time. I thought a visit to Kripalu in western Massachusetts would help me refocus, but it didn’t. My practice for the last several months has been about showing up, doing my best, and knowing that stale periods with yoga, like stale periods with writing, eventually pass if we just keep at it. My dry spell went on for so long that I was starting to waiver–would I ever find my love for yoga again? Yet somehow, my practice has started to reflower, just as some of my plants, ravaged by feeding caterpillars, are sprouting new leaves and blooms.

As I have spent more time in the garden than with the page for quite a while, I wonder if this quiet, non-productive time is not only appropriate, but necessary for me as a writer. Of course, most writers will say that regular writing creates a habit and helps to relieve the drama of writer’s block. Yet somehow, as I tend my plants, I am learning a new way of relating to life. I am more connected to nature’s cycles, including her resilience against freezes, storms, pests, and my inadvertent mistakes as a novice gardener. I am learning that sometimes my best course of action is to do nothing–to wait. I am learning to be a better listener, and I think there are many stories in the garden waiting for me to hear them.

I have waited, discontented, lost, sad, missing my art, but waiting with the beginnings of a trust I have never had. I thought I had learned about faith years ago when I was stripped of all that I had or longed for: family, finances, and health. Yet this faith, the faith I am learning now, feels different. As I study the unique rhythms of nature and the balance of the little ecosystem I am creating, I am finding my own rhythms. Just as I learn each step in the garden when a new experience presents itself, I am learning how to provide my own inner ecosystem what it needs. Once upon a time I had to learn to choose life. Now I am learning to dance with it, and to appreciate even the times of desert, knowing that soon leaves and blooms will appear.

The first day of revisiting my novel, and words emerged like my tiny tomatillo seeds. Is it a coincidence that I spread compost on my plants today, giving them new food? I have spread compost to my spirit, and now the writing garden seems eager to emerge yet again.

Off the Mat

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Last week I ran away to the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health. Set in the serene Berkshires between the charming small towns of Lenox and Stockbridge, Kripalu provides an oasis for me when I need one. This was one of those times. In addition to some family stresses that have disrupted the daily routine, I have my fledgling little novel, trying to take form, and I wanted to find a way to keep life from getting in the way and disrupting its flow.

Because I was taking a retreat rather than an entire program, I had the option of showing up to a class or not, so I had plenty of alone time. Me time. Unobstructed, uninterrupted time. I spent the mornings, after early yoga class and breakfast, working on my novel. I’m taking a Plot and Structure course through the Writer’s Digest Online Workshops, and just before leaving for Kripalu had created, surprisingly for me, an outline of the novel. This is new for me, and I am pleased to announce that creating some structure for the story does not eliminate the opportunity to create and experiment.

During the week, I was assigned to write the beginning of the novel. I cringed at that, knowing I was making a first, and rough, beginning available to others for comment and critique. In the past, this would have killed my writing. This time, though, I feel less like I’m treading dangerous ground. The group I’m in are skilled writers who are also adept at making thoughtful, helpful comments. I’ve put it out there…we’ll see how it goes. This week, I’ll write three scenes.

I find the whole process fascinating. The complexity of writing a book is being broken down into manageable pieces, so by the end of the class, without feeling like I’ve made a lot of effort, I will have a strong skeleton for the entire book.

But back to Kripalu. I showed up for a class one morning to learn about self-compassion, something all writers could find useful. There I met Aruni, a woman of humor and practicality who also happens to be a writer. After class, I signed up for one of her coaching sessions. Writer to writer, we connected, understanding the joys and challenges of the writing life. I wasn’t there to learn more about writing, but to learn more about my attitude toward writing, and to identify ways to make the process easier and more fun.

In When a Grandchild Dies, as a writer, and now in Patchwork, as an editor, I grabbed the energy of inspiration by honoring the dead: in the former, my daughter Reba, who was stillborn in 1997, and in the latter, my late mother-in-law Jenny, who died and left a profound gift of the written word for all of us. How to translate this energy into something that works for a novel, where everyone is made up?

We decided that I will set up a little ceremony where I will introduce myself to my main character, Claire, a burned-out lawyer who will find friendship in a foreign language class, and who will discover her peace of mind through travel. I will amp up her status from mere imaginary friend to, as much as possible, a real person. We will “chat” weekly so I can check in and see if she likes how I’m telling her story. I will make a commitment to Claire to tell her story in full…to let her know that I hear her and value what she has to say.

This may sound a little “woo woo” to non-writers, but we writers know that the most important act we can make as a writer is to find what works. As a yogini, my commitment is to find more and better ways to translate my practice from the mat to the rest of my life. The idea of using ritual, ceremony, and prayers to create the book make it a practice. Practice means we don’t have to be perfect, we just keep showing up and doing our best. I think I’ll give that a try.