Marion Agnew

My sister worked, for a while, as an editor at an engineering firm. Once she went to her boss because there was too much to do and she wasn't sure where even to begin. He told her, "Do something." As in, pick something, anything, and do it.  It sounds really simple, as in TOO simple, but it's turned out to be helpful advice.  Clouds probably don't feel overwhelmed. For one thing, action always helps. Standing frozen with too many competing priorities whirring in your (my) head isn't useful. If nothing else, doing something breaks the power of those non-helpful thoughts. Mine generally include, "Whatever I do will be wrong" or "I'm really going to mess up" or "When will they find out I don't know what I'm doing?" And for another, getting my hands dirty in a project reminds me of that specific project's needs.  As in, "Oh yeah, I remember now--this scene was really difficult and I couldn't figure it out and

One of the distinct pleasures of interviews after publishing a book is the chance to chat with someone who's read the book and asks questions about these imaginary friends you're missing.  That's a new roof! Every interview/conversation is different, because people have unique needs for their own media outlet, but some questions overlap. As a result, I'm getting better at describing what my book is about and how it started and why it's stayed with me.  And at last I'm finally developing a better understanding why publishers and others in the book community ask the question, "What would you like readers to take away from this book?" It feels presumptuous to prescribe what a reader might take away from my book. But that's also, in a way, why I work at the book in the first place.  I may begin a writing project because it's interesting to me or pushes me artistically. I may stay with it because I'm trying to figure something out, and I'm n

Every morning I check in with myself, in writing. As part of that, I list three things for which I'm grateful, with caveats. I can't name coffee, and I can't name my husband generally, though specific incidents for which I'm grateful are fair game occasionally. I'm also thisclose to adding that I can't name sleep, because it's supposed to be about gratitude, not a referendum on how well I slept. Springtime Sun This exercise actually has two parts. First, I notice things I'm grateful for. Then I name them in writing of a morning. The whole thing may sound cheesy, but it's useful. It encourages me to look for positive things as the day goes along and then recall them the next morning. Part of being alive in the world, I think, includes being grateful for Big Things. For living someplace that isn't being bombed. For generally living in a place, time, and context in which I'm not often (deliberately or innocently) misunderstood. For having opport

One of the best parts of participating in the world of publishing is that you can talk with readers and writers about reading and writing.  I guess that's always available, but since publishing MAKING UP THE GODS, I've had many opportunities to talk with people, both formally and informally. The interviews are always fun and always different. Recently, I spoke with Jonathan Pinto at CBC Sudbury on their afternoon show, Up North. (You can find it here .) It's been several months since my book was released and I'm grateful people are still interested in it--and it's so nice to be able to express my gratitude and my belief in the importance of stories to represent the world around us. Also, many interviewers ask "what's next?" and to make sure I'm not lying when I say "I'm working on another novel," I've been working on another novel. I do ENJOY writing, when I DO it instead of circling it or despairing the value of the writing I hav

Last weekend, the Northwestern Ontario Writers Workshop honoured me with the Kouhi Award. LitFest offered two days of writerly events, including the Saturday banquet with excellent food! Thank you! Flowers are always welcome Here's how they choose people for this award: " The Kouhi Award was established by NOWW in 1999 to recognize 'outstanding contributions to the literature of Northwestern Ontario.' It is named in honour of poet Elizabeth Kouhi." My husband, Roy Blomstrom, was honoured last year. Given the range and quality of his writing--plays, poems, short prose, now three novels, various contest wins and shortlistings--I was especially surprised to be recognized. I'm so grateful. It's humbling to feel seen in this way.  One of the weirdest parts of writing something to share is that feeling of exposure. Yes, you sent your writing out into the publishing world, and you knew that meant it might be published--shared on a platform larger than yours alon

As a dual citizen of the US and Canada, with a Canadian mother and an American father, I've crossed that border often.* I've had decades to think about borders. (I even blogged about them for a while.) And boundaries--both the geographical kind and the personal kind. Artsy vacation shot :) . I recently made a cross-border trip, my first extended visit since pandemic lockdowns, and wondered again about the people in an office somewhere drawing lines on a map. I also thought about the ways I expected my life to unfold, and how different my experience has been. Performing onstage has never appealed to me--I managed it as a musician because of all the others up there with me. Safety in numbers and all that. So as I turned from professional and technical writing to creative work, the thought of reading my own work aloud in front of others, and trying to say something coherent in interviews, was daunting. Imagine my surprise to learn that I enjoy talking about my work, both my essay

Today I'm grateful for the way Canada supports its arts and artists.  Thank you for your support. IYKYK. First, grants. I've been fortunate to receive several grants for my writing from the province of Ontario, through the Ontario Arts Council  (OAC).  Digression: I actually think of it as "my writing received the grant," because it has less to do with me as a human and more to do with the work I submitted. I strongly believe in this framing, whether your work is awarded a top prize or rejected by a literary journal. It's your work --not you.    My work has been awarded what the OAC now calls "creation" grants to support the, uh, creation of a full-length work of poetry or prose. The OAC also has a "recommender" program, in which publishers in Ontario evaluate manuscripts and recommend some of the many manuscripts they receive to be awarded funding. This year I received two recommender grants, one from Latitude 46 Publishing, the Sudbury publ