Marion Agnew

Already mid-January. It's been eventful, but not so much of the interesting kind. More of the workaday kind in my life (and horrific in the world), and talking about those types of events isn't especially helpful.  twisty snowy branches But one thing that I've understood in a different way, after experiencing of those events, is the need for a foundation. In a literal sense, like a foundation for your home, and a figurative one, like something you really need to make your life possible (or okay, that lets you live your life with the ease to which you have become accustomed).  Side note: here's a brief invisible-to-you pause while I searched a couple of things and got sidetracked learning about foundation garments. Sometimes it's interesting to be alive long enough to see times changing. (In the global sense, not so much, but we aren't talking about those events.) My point is that in rural northwestern Ontario, we need a car that does well in snow and icy conditi...

The seasons are definitely changing now--May is undisputably spring instead of late winter--and so I've been looking back and looking ahead. It seems to be what I do when the external world changes visibly. What spring looks like, sometimes. It's always disheartening instructive to look at what I was n't able to complete in the previous season. And also, why that might be.  So this all sounds basic, BUT. I’m trying to remember that when I try something and it doesn’t work, I need to 1. Stop trying that and 2. Figure out why, if possible (sometimes there is no because), and 3. Use that info to try something else. I recognize that this is Basic Life Skillz 101. Logic. Problem-solving. Yet sometimes my first instinct is to try harder. Actually, that's my second instinct--my first is to ignore it all. THEN I try harder (muscling through, discipline, don't let myself off the hook, etc.). So this analysis is probably my third step. I guess it's good when I get there...

Hi, everyone, it's March. And still 2025. I felt the need to point that out because the months take forever and fly by at the same time.  Not a recent photo, but a fair representation of what today looks like A reminder: on Wednesday, March 12, I'm reading in the Brockton Writers Series . If you're in the greater Toronto Area, head to the Glad Day Bookshop, 499 Church Street. If you aren't, you can watch on their YouTube channel, here :  Brockton Writers Series - YouTube    In addition to the other readers, the evening will feature Asifa Sheikh speaking about Playing with Form in Nonfiction, an always-fascinating topic. Although I tend to default to the standard linear narrative, I've braided narratives and am striking out into other ways to spread my wings.  I'm excited to be part of this event. Participating is one way to remind myself that yes, I've written books and I have spoken to people about them and about writing. I've hung out in the company of...

It's been quite the autumn. After the events in September, we had another at the end of October. In that one, author Roy Blomstrom (who is also my husband) and I participated in Entershine Bookshop's "In Conversation with Michael Sobota" series. Roy's newest historical novel, The Devil's Violin: Myllysilta's History , had come out early in the summer, and this was our celebration. Michael asked us his trademark thoughtful questions, we ate cookies, Roy talked about The Devil's Violin and I talked about Making Up the Gods, we signed books that the lovely Entershine people sold. It was a nice event. We're fortunate to have both Entershine and Michael in Thunder Bay. Besides interviewing authors and participating in the arts community in general, Michael writes book reviews for the local newspaper AND the local arts magazine (for which he also writes a column on movies). The following weekend, I began co-leading a three-week community arts/creative wr...

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...

As someone who lives in a rural home with another writer, with a great deal of choice over my workday, one might wonder why I would attend a writing retreat. What would I possibly need that I can't get at home? Why would I pay someone a fee to go somewhere else to do what I can already do? For many years, for those reasons, I didn't go. A local informal gathering of writers has been meeting for long, intensive self-directed weekends for years. I never understood the appeal. Yet now, I'm just back from a writing retreat.   The drive out. The view over Lake Marie Louise, toward my home, which lies beyond more land and a bay of Lake Superior. Why did I go? What happened to change my mind? Well, life, mostly.  I first went in 2020. My first book, REVERBERATIONS: A DAUGHTER'S MEDITATIONS ON ALZHEIMER'S, had just come out.  The experience of focusing intently on that one manuscript--short essays--had been extremely productive for me. I'd benefitted greatly from exchan...

I jotted down a few random thoughts during the past week and only as I was readying this post did I realize they all have to do with letting go. (I'm sorry if that gave you an Elsa earworm.) Letting Go of Electronics The first has to do with recycling. I take seriously the "reduce" and "reuse" parts of responsible, ecological living. Still, sometimes, you gotta recycle, which always makes me feel as if I'm getting away with something. Figuring out where to drop electronics, specifically, gives me some exponential version of that feeling. Because sometimes you put random electronic items that are long past their useful life into a box, and only occasionally (once in ten or more years) do you wonder what to do with them.  To be clear, we're not people who go through electronics quickly. No "latest" version of anything in this house. These items weren't just "obsolete" in technology terms; they were actual decades old in human years,...

So, "feelings" have been on my mind lately. (Not the song, but you're welcome for the earworm.)* Since the first of the year, I've been doing a writing exercise to help ground my work in observations using the five senses, as opposed to writing from the thoughts that circle in my head ALL THE TIME, morphing into metaphors and trying to get out.  So senses: We all use sight in writing a lot, and I've enjoyed exploring sound for several years (as in my essay collection). Smell is purportedly quite evocative, a leftover from our reptilian brain, but the winter, with dust and allergies and stuffy noses, isn't conducive to detecting smell, unless I'm baking, which I haven't done much lately. (Hey. I should remedy that.) By the way, I found these exercises in Jeannine Ouellette's substack newsletter, Writing in the Dark. They landed in my inbox at exactly the right time, and they've challenged me all month. Back to senses. Jeannine points out that f...