Marion Agnew

For  several months, I've been keeping track of five things  I'd like to remember from that month. Here's what came up in July.  I haven’t always enjoyed dental visits—often I need more work done, no matter how diligently I brush and floss, regardless of regular cleanings, thanks to insurance—but I do love the feeling of having freshly-cleaned teeth. It’s nice, like when the sweater stack is aligned. new perspective on beloved country --from the boat I may have expressed surprise in a previous month at enjoying legumes and oat-based cereals, while expressing gratitude that they have helped lower my cholesterol levels. However, there’s another reason that enjoy experimenting with legumes: it’s the experimentation part. I’m using them in cold salads this summer with fresh vegetables, different vinegars, and different spice blends. I anticipate combining them with roasted vegetables in various ways, autumn. It’s just unexpected fun. late asters (?), with bee Wild blueberry ...

As I mentioned last month , sometimes it feels difficult to be a person on the internet in an age of war, climate catastrophe, and the erosion of democracy.  I've been working on various concrete projects, the kind with endings, and also the cycle of nurture that life requires. From refilling prescriptions and attending annual appointments to mowing and lopping and chainsawing. (Not enough cleaning, but that's normal for us.) Fortunately, I've also been able to spend time with other writers. Some are managing to keep creating new work; others aren't. Similarly, some of the "regular people" I also see worry more, while others manage those routines and projects as above.  I'm excited to be part of this event! Please come by! Regardless of where my acquaintances, friends, and family fall on the continuum of "can't do a thing" and "doing well, thanks," I'm glad to know. There's something reassuring about being in community. For ...

Here are five things I'd like to remember from May. One. A question I’ve asked myself this month: what’s the name of that warbler, that one there, the one that’s black and white? (It’s the Black and White Warbler.) Two. I’m still (as I was in January ) mulling over the impossibility of summing up a person’s life in an obituary or celebrating a person’s whole life in a funeral or memorial service. I’m also struck by how connected people are, how many interests they have, how many professional groups they can be part of (and then groups of retired professionals, like retired teacher organizations), spiritual groups, even. I don’t have a wise generalization to make about cultural changes, age groups, “kids today” or whatever. I’m just impressed, I guess, at all the ways people live their values and contribute to the world. Cloud and Island and Water and Leafing Trees Three. Scope creep/feature creep: maybe this isn’t exactly the same as what I want to remember, but it’s related. In...

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...

Here are five things I'd like to remember from February. Not all pleasant, but notable. One. Sometimes it’s worth going into rooms you don’t go into often, just to make sure there’s no dead bird lying in the floor. It apparently fell down the chimney of a long-unused woodstove. I mean, if it had actually happened, which it did, hypothetically. And I guess come spring it’s worth looking into what happened to the screen over that chimney. Roy says it was an owl. I didn’t look too closely. Two. There may come a day when I don’t enjoy shoveling snow—and for sure if I had to do it more often and for longer sessions than I do, I’d be less enthusiastic—but there’s also something reassuring about accepting snowfall in SOME places (grass, trees, rocks, lake ice) but not HERE or HERE (sidewalk, back deck, front porch). Control, but really an illusion of it, because we all know that the snow’s really in charge here. Three. Two words: finishing sugar. I get it now. I don’t understand why pe...

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 ...

I’ve seen several references to the practice of writing “five things” in various places, but I most recently saw it in Medea Lee Patel’s Substack, Dear Somebody. She logs and five things each week! That’s ambitious.   So here are five things I want to remember from January, 2025.   One. Narratives still have the power to settle my brain. I was grateful to re-learn this after several fragmented days early in the month—days that included the mixed gratitude, reverence, and sorrow from the funeral of President Jimmy Carter. A story, a beginning middle end, whether it’s an episode of a cop or lawyer or medical show, a home renovation, a couple looking to Escape to the Country—that cycle brings things to a satisfying conclusion. My brain likes that, especially at 2 a.m.   Two. Speaking of death: from experiencing the death of several friends and acquaintances in the past six months, I’ve gained a new understanding of and appreciation for obituaries. How on eart...

I didn't celebrate the turn from 2024 to 2025 with champagne at midnight (or anything at midnight beyond snoozing). I'm not against traditional celebrations. They can be fun--I've been to several different kinds of parties and observations of the new year.  Yet some rituals of the new year are always available to me, and I find I'm observing and enjoying them. Paperblanks, ordered from my local bookstore,  along with a well-loved Filofax Folio. For example:  I’ve pulled out folders and written 2025 on them, moving the 2024 information to the “tax stuff” spot Making hard choices from among the plethora of opportunities, I’ve added some events to my calendar for January I’m writing in the new nice notebooks  We’re seeing Christmas cards in our mailbox, which is nice—since the postal strike ended, we’ve received mostly junk, and that’s not nearly as fun I’ve watched (several times a brief video (or several) of someone painting with watercolours That last one is less abo...

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...

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...

It's so much fun to share information about the characters in Making Up the Gods that aren't necessarily an integral part of the book.  For example, as the novel begin, Simone bakes, and it's surprising to her that she's enjoyed it so much. She takes advantage of the presence of Chen and Martin to keep baking. And one of the things she makes is scones.  I also make scones, though I have zero nine-year-olds and also zero potential cousins hanging around. I've been using the same recipe for about 45 years, since Fort William Historical Park opened. It's a pretty foolproof recipe, which is why I keep making it, although I did have some performance anxiety around it this year after accidentally substituting baking SODA for POWDER (WHY???? Such a rookie move.). Regardless! This week, a review of Making Up the Gods, as well as a link to the Blueberry Scones recipe I use, appears at Canadian Cookbooks! Here's a link to the review. The recipe is linked in the text ...

August held lots of weather. Hot and humid days worthy of June in Oklahoma, cool rainy days hearkening back to April (perhaps? March?) in Oklahoma, and a share of those cool night/bright and sunny days that are so typical of Augusts of my memory. And now it's September, with its "back to school" or even "the other new year" vibe. Certainly my holiday is over--my sister has gone back home to her regular life, the weather is changing further, events are beginning again in town.  AND! Some of those events on the horizon include me! First, on September 17, I'll be doing a joint signing with David Giuliano at Thunder Bay's Indigo location from 11 to 1. We'll share short readings, discuss our books, and sign whatever you like!  David is a fellow Latitude 46 Publishing author. His award-winning novel, THE UNDERTAKING OF BILLY BUFFONE, is set in Marathon and is a satisfying, layered who- and why-dunnit. A former Moderator of the United Church of Canada, he...

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...