Off the Page: Featuring Jeff Feinstein

"The act of writing sits me back behind the drum set, the pencils my sticks, and the musical word-notes my healing medication."

For over two decades, I’ve worked with writers as an editor, publicist, and mindfulness-based book coach. I’ve learned that a writing life isn’t just about words on the page—it’s shaped by everything we do when we’re not writing. That’s why I created Off the Page: Conversations About Writing as a Practice, where writers share the routines that fuel their creativity—from yoga and meditation to walking, reading, and even Olympic weightlifting. There’s no single path to a writing life—only the one that works for you.

This week, I’m so happy to introduce Jeff Feinstein, a writer whose story reminds us that our creative fire never disappears—it waits patiently for us to turn toward it. Jeff has lived a life steeped in rhythm and artistry. For years, he was a drummer, performing with some of the most celebrated recording artists of his time. His creative journey has always been about listening—to sound, to silence, and now, to story.

Today, Jeff is channeling that same devotion into his first novella—an ambitious, tender, and deeply imaginative work of fiction that feels at once timeless, philosophical, and captivating.

I first met Jeff about a year ago, and it’s been an honor to witness how his writing life continues to unfold. His courage, curiosity, and creative commitment remind me that it’s never too late to begin again—to find ourselves anew in the act of creation.

I’m thrilled to share his words here today, and deeply grateful to everyone who helps amplify these conversations about what it means to live a writing life.

ABOUT JEFF FEINSTEIN (in his own words):

Growing up in Coney Island offered me enormous opportunities to garner both self-determination and social prowess. After all, I come home from school, change into my street clothes -- dungarees, t-shirt, and Keds hi-tops (nobody would be caught dead in any other brand of sneakers), have a glass of milk and a couple of Oreo cookies (Mallomars, if I’m lucky), exit my house (in those days, everyone said “house”, not “apartment”), race down the hallway stairs, then bolt out the door into the world’s greatest playground -- the street, absolutely surging with kids from the block. The guys who normally hang out with each other gather, select what game to play, from the extensive list of street games we all inherit and know (punchball, stickball, stoopball, two-hand-touch, etc.), then choose-up sides and play (I especially enjoy playing punchball in the “gutter”). I mean, talk about individual and group decisions and dynamics -- I unremittingly practice both, until I hear my mother’s voice calling me up for supper (nobody says “dinner”) from our kitchen window, facing the alleyway.

But why do I tell you this? Composing this brief biography asks me to sew my life-fabric together, and I’m happy to say, the garment, although thankfully incomplete, fits. My Brooklyn years asked much of me and gave much to me. Street sense and individual and group choices instilled within me personal independence and interpersonal discernment. Additionally, losing both parents, five years apart, catapulted me, at age eighteen, into a new life-garment that which I’ve altered and restyled many times. My life-garb includes husband, father, grandfather, musician, teacher, and burgeoning writer. I have loved and do love it all -- a good fit.

Lisa Weinert (LW): What’s one myth about writing you wish people would let go of?

Jeff Feinstein (JF): “I abhor writing. It’s such an over-burdening, mind-draining, pain-in-the-ass task -- WHO NEEDS IT?”

Imagine dispelling this all-too-prevalent myth. In fact, think about informing this disgruntled individual that the act of writing innately probes, stimulates, and generates thought -- NOW, WHO NEEDS IT?

LW: When has writing felt like a source of healing in your life?

JF: Several months ago, I began to compose a novella, totally unaware of the personal healing process I would experience. As a former full-time professional musician, a drummer, I endearingly feel the act of writing sits me back behind the drum set, the pencils my sticks, and the musical word-notes my healing medication. The manuscript’s creative characters sing to me, and I hear both their definitive solos and group harmonies fire my Being, healing any reticence I might possess to shout, “We improvise, playing our own groove -- let’s burn!”

LW: How do you know when you’re writing from a place of healing, rather than just to produce words?

JF: I immediately know when I’m “writing from a place of healing, rather than just producing words,” because after the count-off, the rest of the band and I enter, listen, and musically converse, imagining and creating stimulating notes, phrases, and rhythms -- characters, settings, circumstances, actions, and dialogue -- how marvelously without pain I feel!

LW: What rituals -- movement, meditation, or otherwise -- help you return to the page, especially on hard days?

JF: Hopefully, I don’t appear too shallow saying this but ritualistically hearing my favorite coffee shops, with their alluringly loud coffee and decadent almond croissant voices, screaming, “Hey, Jeff, write already! What are you, a lazy bum?” These gentle thoughts often catalyze my “return to the page.”

Ya gotta love the N.Y.C. groove, “especially on hard days”!

LW: Where are you finding inspiration these days?

JF: This question sparks thought, because I hear it assume that inspiration exists externally -- an outside-Self provocateur one must initially encounter to experience creativity. I live in Manhattan, a supposed burning cauldron of fiery inspiration. So why, after completing my novella weeks ago, do I feel so creatively cold, empty, and uninspired? Am I callous, unobservant, metaphor-challenged, a creative zilch?

I ask myself, “What role does the individual play to trigger inspiration so as to explode with writing and healing?” To respond, I must say, and, please, excuse my ranting, even to consider your Self uninspired, ironically requires a sense of Self-perpetuated inspiration.

In fact, this Substack – Off the Page writing adventure that I presently inspire my Self to experience, presents a very hip musical chart that a very hip individual, Lisa Weinert, composed and, fortunately, offered me to play. I deeply thank Lisa for the opportunity; most certainly, as the measures go by, I feel the music’s melodic healing effects -- Lisa’s a magnificently talented conductor.

Moreover, as I perceive the inspiration quandary, we exclusively own inspiration, 24-7, and we choose the target, focus, and implementation of our creative endeavors, thereby marrying Self and non-Self.

LW: Can you share a moment when writing surprised you by becoming a form of healing?

JF: Composing my novella (it feels so weird saying that -- who would think?) presented a surprising life-moment, regarding healing. The writing process catalyzed and sustained a marvelous sense of personal creativity and yes, the special satisfaction and fulfilment of a well-played gig.

LW: What book do you find yourself recommending most often these days?

JF: We meet her as a wonderfully curious, self-reliant, brave young girl, and we share the growth she experiences as an authentic individual, creating her Being. This existentially rooted character is Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre.

LW: What book are you excited to read next?

JF: Several years have passed since I’ve read this great novel, so I recommend it to my Self -- Jane Eyre