Marion Agnew

As I said earlier this month, spring feels especially reluctant to show up this year .  And yet, when I look, I can see the signs around me! We're feeding birds again (in spite of the mess they make on the deck) because there's nothing more tragic than a wistful junco on the deck in the morning. They're moving through on their way north, and we want to give them the wherewithal to get there.  Speaking of morning, the sun is coming up to the left of the Pass Lake Gap. We're one month into the season, and the sun will continue to move left until the summer solstice. It's so fun to be able to watch it, even though the sunrises still reflect on lake ice instead of a liquid version of Lake Superior. This morning I heard my first white-throated sparrow! It's also "park the car at the end of the driveway" season. Our driveway is unpaved, so lakes appear as the snow melts, and as I have whined before, this year there's PLENTY OF SNOW TO MELT. A cause for c...

In October I mentioned that sometimes I don’t have answers for some of the things I think about; I only have questions. It’s a failing of mine, especially when I write essays. (Or so I’m told.) I’m supposed to write an answer. But sometimes really all I have are questions. I feel so seen. In the context of writing an essay, I understand what the person means when I receive this feedback. I need to come to rest at some point late in the essay, even if it’s not a full stop or a final destination. It’s at least a pause, a “so far, here’s what I think“ moment. Basically, it’s an answer to the reader’s question, “So what?“ Not a “lesson” for them to learn. Just a breath. A “Thanks for spending time with me! See you later!“ In life (the part that isn’t writing, or perhaps writing for publication), I may always have questions. And I really want to ask (myself) the right questions. Good questions—useful to me, and therefore perhaps to others, though that’s not required. Meanwhile the writing a...

We had an awfully weird summer, weather-wise, and I'm posting this a few weeks later than I meant to. I could blame the strange weather, or a visiting sister whose weeks extended through Labour Day week. Not that anything was her fault--I'm a (mostly) responsible (mostly) adult.  Truthfully, I've been juggling projects while keeping an eye on the weather. I did get started on ONE painting project on a sunny day this week, but the other may need to wait another year. And do we, or do we not, replace our gas grill's propane tank? It ran out last week--realistically, how many more times will we grill outdoors before the autumn seriously arrives? (None, unless we get a new propane tank!)   However. I’ve been thinking about many things recently, writing- and life-wise. August and early September brought many out-of-the-ordinary experiences. Traveling, for one. Goofing off, for another.  Sometimes a long, slow journey is a beautiful thing. As a result of a family wedding anni...

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...

Back in the Days of Yore (pre-lockdowns—actually, more than a decade ago, wow, what even is time) I’d periodically get four-hour coffees with a specific writer-friend who is also a musician.   One of the questions we’d mull over is “What is the writer equivalent of scales?” Another was its related idea, “What is a practice session for writers?”   Obviously, the questions don’t have a 1:1 answer. Musicians perform, and although writers can perform also, it’s rarer. Perhaps. For me, anyway. As a writer of things on paper (vs. writing works for performance), I don’t focus on a performance element of my work, though I’ve grown to enjoy the more performative opportunities for readings and conversations. An accident, but I like it!   But! Back to a scale—a form that musicians can practice to gain muscle memory and general mastery.   For me, the equivalent is a daily writing practice. My practice varies, in terms of form, result, and effectiveness (and even ...

 Hi, folks!  November whizzed past in a blur of literary events, and I loved every minute of it. From waking up on my birthday in Wawa, Ontario and being serenaded that evening at Wordstock Sudbury by three former Poets Laureate of Sudbury in the evening, to sitting on a panel with a hugely gifted and influential poet to discuss grief, AND, back home, attending a book club to talk nuts and bolts of character and reality vs. fiction, AND speaking to a ladies' luncheon group, AND reading online for the Northwestern Ontario Writers Workshop, AND a bunch of other events, it's been a wild ride. (from top): Vera Constantineau, Kim Fahner, and Roger Nash after their serenade. My view at Wordstock, Sudbury's Literary Festival, just before my panel, "Good Grief," began. Lots of fun! November also brought  my first new publication in a while , at Five Minutes ( fiveminutelit.com ). The short essay (100 words EXACTLY about a five-minute life episode)  "See/Be Seen"...

Exciting events in early November! November 1 from 2 to 3 PM, I'm in conversation with David Giuliano at the Marathon Public Library. The event is free and open to the public. Come and ask questions about truth and fiction, perseverance, northern Ontario stories--anything you like! David is the author of THE UNDERTAKING OF BILLY BUFFONE, released in 2021 by Latitude 46 Publishing. You can find out more about him here: davidgiuliano.ca . The 10th Wordstock Literary Festival runs from November 2 through 4, in Sudbury--and online! Find a link to the schedule-at-a-glance here . The event begins Thursday at 5:30 PM, with a poetry primer, followed by the festival kickoff event at 7. Events Friday begin at 6 PM and run all day on Saturday. Master Classes on humour and adapting material from one form to another kick off Saturday morning at 9, followed by festival panels and readings and culminating in the evening's gala celebration. I'm on a panel entitled "Good Grief" wi...

MAKING UP THE GODS launched on Sunday! Here's just a little of the gratitude I expressed that day at Thunder Bay's independent bookstore, Entershine Bookshop. I feel more grateful every day for the support and the opportunity to share this story with readers.  Thank you so much for being here with me today.   The view from the audience at Entershine Bookshop To start, I acknowledge as a grateful guest that I live and write on lands of Anishinaabe and Metis peoples, in Robinson-Superior treaty territory, and I am reckoning with my family’s settler roots.   Making Up the Gods is the first novel I’ve finished, but it’s not the first one I started. I worked on three other novels, even starting a new one after I’d tried imagining my way through this book. Making Up the Gods itself has felt like several novels along the way. BUT this, at last, is the story that kept bringing me back to the page for a dozen years, through many versions. In fact, the work continued until ...

My first book, REVERBERATIONS: A DAUGHTER'S MEDITATIONS ON ALZHEIMER'S , collected personal essays about my mother's dementia and how our family responded to it. Click here to download AlzAuthors's special guide to its resources about caring for mothers. Dementia (in all its forms, including Alzheimer's) can be a lonely illness. The person who has it can find socializing difficult. Their family members are likely not specialists in dementia and may need help figuring out basic skills for caring for adults.  Sometimes, people in the dementia community just need companionship. Not professional intervention, necessarily--just proof that others have experienced or are currently experiencing what you're going through. Feeling seen and heard somehow makes it easier to return to life with a fresh perspective and new energy. And often, you gain a few insights or learn a few techniques that can help everyone. Organizations like AlzAuthors help new caregivers find compani...

In the past few days, I've been writing notes. Some are actual notes, on paper. Most are emails.  However. They all "count." (Count to whom? Not sure.)  The notes have fallen into two loose categories: thank-you notes and "thinking of you" notes. Writing them has been a pleasure all its own. It's nice to spend time articulating exactly how grateful I am, and in what ways I'm grateful.  And, when I feel empathy for someone going through a difficult time, to say "I'm thinking of you." It's a small thing, and no solution to their difficulty. But when I've been in their shoes, I've appreciated knowing that others remembered me and recognized my situation. All of which got me thinking: have I written myself any gratitude notes lately? How about a "thinking of you"? Not "things I'm generally grateful for" or "things I'm thinking about that I'm messing up."  Instead, I could list specific actio...

I didn't sleep well last night. Not uncommon, when one has things on her mind. And when do I not? Also, the top of my left foot itched, which (I learned from midnight online searches) is a common phenomenon. Not so much the specificity of my own itch, but the fact that we humans are bombarded with sensory stimuli all day and the brain frantically filters out what's less important. So sometimes when all that calms down and you're lying in a darkened room breathing regularly, the brain's like, "Oh yeah, and BTW, your foot's been itching."  Somehow I pictured that scenario as an assistant handing her boss a stack of those pink "While You Were Out" message slips. Recently, Canadians' sleep habits were in the news--someone released a report--and I caught a news item about it. Toward the end of the item, it listed what constitutes "good sleep," as a way to say "If you don't get this, maybe talk to someone about your sleep habits....

1. More rocks. Thirty of them, in fact.  Yes, we already had plenty of rocks here. But going over to the beach at our little camp to pick up a rock, and snapping a photo of it, and then bringing it back to sit in a bowl in the kitchen were nice breaks from revising in November.  2. Something I don’t have words for yet, but if I did, one of them might be “ease,” and another might be “soft,“ and another might be “strength.”  I just realized that both “easy” and “soft” are antonyms of “hard.” A better antonym of “ease,” I suppose, is “effort.”  (Welcome to my brain.) In any case, I am feeling a form of strength. With ease and softness. (That sounds like an ad: “Double-concentrated Strength: now with ease and softness!”) Maybe because 2022 held some really difficult (hard) experiences, yet here I am. I imagine/expect/am unbothered by the fact that the future will hold its share of challenges, and I’ll survive those, too.  3. Gratitude (hmm, I say this a lot). I ap...

  Here we are, this place, this day.

Senses. I tried to list them in an order that made sense to me and came up with this, so far: gentleness, openness, curiosity, wonder/awe, competence, diligence, appreciation, understanding, gratitude, duty, and generosity.  I anticipate (ooo, anticipation?) continuing to think about them this month. Along with why and how I pay attention to them. Monday's sun peers out from behind a relatively low gray cloud shortly after rising. The sky holds criss-crossed white clouds higher. The sun reflects from the surface of Lake Superior. A fling with store-bought guacamole. Full of flavour and good to soothe a hankering for guacamole. No match for my sister's, made from scratch, of course, though part of my enjoyment of her guacamole is being on vacation and sharing it with her. A similar fling with local gelato. I enjoy it a lot. But I don't need to enjoy it all the time. Which is good to know. Moments of contentment, joy, connection, and sadness. It's been quite a month and w...

And by "it," I mean many things.  What do I do when it's a lot?  A pretty evening sky. A few things. I do my work, for starters. Yes, it's hard to focus. But I'm lucky to do what I do under the few constraints I have.  Some pretty yellow flowers. I do active looking. I look for pretty things, for things that inspire gratitude, for things that restore my faith in other people. For example, I look for people being nice to each other.  Some pretty wild roses. I do targeted actions. Yes, voting. Yes, donating. Yes, engaging gently with others. And learning--how Supreme Courts work in two different countries, different approaches to protecting women's rights.  That's it; that's that. That's what I've got these days. Is it enough? For now. For today.  

Monday I sent my second-born off to college.  No, you didn't miss anything. I still don't have children. It's a metaphor, on which I can't elaborate. Yet. It was an important day. I wanted to celebrate, because this second-born has been with me for more than a decade.  And I wanted to take a quiet moment to ... "mourn"? Not quite the right word. But "celebrate" doesn't capture the full range of emotions around the experience. There's a letting-go of this entity that I've held (lightly, firmly, with despair, with hope) for so long. I wanted to recognize the moment for what it is, yet another change in this time of accelerated change.  So I clung to that mixture of feelings yesterday, in spite of political leaks, in spite of elections and pandemics and campaign promises and lies under oath.  *** I also recognized yesterday as my mother's 105th birthday. She's not alive on earth to celebrate, but I can celebrate: so I did, and I do. ...