Marion Agnew

I don't really think of the year in terms of quarters, since I am not living squarely in the world of business and revenue targets and all that. So this is really a fancier way of saying, "How can March be over already? And we're in April?" which I have said many many a time before. Part of my feeling that it must still be February or March is the relentless nature of this winter's snowfall. Luckily my husband recently was setting out on a not-really-necessary tidy of the driveway with the snowblower and discovered a malfunction involving spark plugs, which we got fixed. I mean, the fixing was the lucky part--because the temperatures are stubbornly stuck just below freezing and the storms keep swooping across the continent. And now we're prepped. Part of my feeling of "when is it again?" is from being ill. I caught the flu and an infection and had a dental procedure and my body has said, "Just one thing a day." Now that I'm on the mend,...

I've mentioned UK writer Iain Robinson before ( here, in relation to notebooks ). I subscribe to his Substack, "This Party's Over," where he keeps a country diary far more extensive than the few observations I write in the morning. He's an activist and teacher besides being writing, and his posts are always thought provoking. It's interesting to see differences and similarities in nature-minded people writing nonfiction elsewhere in the world. Recently (meaning the past few months), of course, global relationships among countries are shifting. In his Country Diary #51, he laments being able to create big changes. Instead: “Going out into nature and responding to its truth feels like the only thing I can do in this troubled, broken age.” drifts Below is a version of the comment I left. I read this six weeks after he wrote it, right around the turn of the year, and I still feel this way. Sometimes I have to force myself to the page, but I need to write. It's...

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...

People enjoy feeling wistful—at least that’s what I’ve come to think. Especially in the autumn. Yes it’s beautiful, but rhapsodizing about “the red maples, the yellow birches, all against the evergreen backdrop!” feels to me to be more about grasping the last of summer than a way to welcome a new season. messing about in a rowboat Admittedly, autumn as a season on the calendar stretches far longer than the leaves stay on the trees, and it is difficult to find beauty of the traditional “eye catching flame in the trees” sort come late October early November. In my ongoing series of thoughts about obituaries and saying goodbye and wrapping up a person‘s life, I’m also thinking just in general about endings and beginnings and changing. Possibly it’s a way to deal with things (waves hands at “the world today"), but possibly it’s because I’m approaching a birthday ending in five. This birthday requires me to sign up for things—or not. To make choices that will affect my long-term future...

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 ...

Earlier this year I mentioned my gratitude practice, explained (more or less) how it works (more or less), and shared some of the recent specific things that had appeared on my gratitude list at that time.   Six months later, it’s time for more gratitudes. At present, I’m grateful for many of the big-picture items I mentioned in June, plus these specifics, in no particular order: Enough snow that our well is not frozen and may hold its own when spring arrives Life in the country, where we marvel at small birds at the feeder and big birds in the sky, and we watch deer grow from fawns to adulthood People who drive the speed limit (or slower!) in neighbourhoods when they’re driving on ice, even if they’re driving a ginormous truck and think they don’t have to slow down; I doubt that they’re doing it to keep from frightening walkers but that’s a happy side effect Our local bookstore, Entershine Bookshop, which has become an integral part of the local writing and reading community ...

The year is waning, as is the amount of daylight in individual days; both will soon wax again.  Meanwhile, here are some of the sights. Also sites (certainly familiar locations to anyone who follows me on social media). Also sighs, which is what I'd originally typed instead of sights.  The evening sky Because even after twenty years here, ten years in northern Colorado before that, and five years in the mountains of New Mexico before THAT, the first snowstorm--the first REAL one, the first that stays--still daunts me.  But in the space of three or four days, we've now had two. And managed. Here it comes And I continue  my ongoing "wayfinding" efforts . I'm looking for lampposts, bits of joy (also called "glimmers" I think). Recently, I had a great time volunteering with Dementia Cafe (and have the chance to next weekend as well).  Yesterday I saw old bananas in the grocery store and got an urge to make banana bread. Maybe I resemble Simone m ore than I...

We don't garden, exactly, but there's a rosebush on the septic field that produces lovely small blooms in August.  It also gets kind of weedy, and in previous years, I've taken some pruning shears to what appeared to me to be "dead branches." Did I know what I was doing? Nope. Did I do any research? Nah. I was just doing what was obvious. (Narrator: not so obvious.) This year, we had little snow and (in spite of a lot of rain in June), a relatively hot and dryish summer, so our well has been iffy. On occasion, we top it up from the lake, using the pump system at the camp next door.  This year, when I'm not actively putting water from the garden hose into the well (and no, we don't drink the well water), I've been leaving the (somewhat leaky) spray gun on the septic field. I also had the bright idea of leaving it close to the base of the rosebush. And this has been the result!   In case those photos aren't clear, green leaves and some blooms are spr...

I so enjoy talking with readers and other folks about Making Up the Gods. Each person has a lens through which they read anything, and combining that with their life experiences and the moment through which they're living can be really powerful. Thinking about it, I've often said, "This is the right book for me at the right time." And, of course, a different view--"This isn't the right time for this book for me" or "Hmm, I don't seem to personally *like* this type of book." In any case, I've recently been fortunate to have several public discussions about my book and its themes: grief and loss, home and place, choices and communication. They're collected on the Making Up the Gods page, linked above, as well as in individual posts. Here are the latest two: Podcast: Let's Talk About Grief with Anne, on how grief can be a powerful motivator to make changes.  YouTube: Shawn Breathes Books , in which Shawn Mooney and I have a great ...

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...

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 ...