Marion Agnew

Dickens, who's already written most of the stories there are in the world, seems to best express how I feel about the past year. Yes, from A TALE OF TWO CITIES, that whole best/worst thing. Although maybe not. I can imagine worse, although I am fearful to, and I can also hope for better. I'm speaking about the world in general, here. For me personally, many parts of 2018 were good and others were, uh, less good. How ever un-good my "less good" times were, I'm still very fortunate and I know it. The two best lessons I learned and practiced, both toward the end of the year, are what I'm clinging to as the earth rotates and revolves around the sun. 1. Stretch. 2. Drink water. Yep. Simple. But not always easy. This last quarter, I've focused largely on taking care of family, including myself, in projects with both short- and long-term timeframes. I hope to be able to look outward and better care for others in the world in 2019. And you? See you ...

For this post, here's one given: a "good" review is one that contains information valuable to someone other than the reviewer. Which means that "I liked it" or "I didn't like it," as expressed by thumbs up or down, aren't helpful reviews. For a positive example, here's a link to the YouTube channel (where you can find her playlists) of Cindy Guentert-Baldo , with some amazingly helpful reviews, if you're interested in various types of pens and planners. NB: she also has an awesome website, here . Cindy is one of the most upfront, thoughtful reviewers I've run across (and I've been watching a lot of online reviews of various consumer and other products in the past year). Two qualities contribute to her success as a reviewer. First, Cindy knows herself. And second, she considers other perspectives. Cindy is experienced in graphic design and hand-lettering. She is right-handed but she has a teenager who's a lefty (this ...

Difficult news in Thunder Bay. Another young life lost. More defensiveness and shoulder shrugs. And a new report that attempts to create some sort of accountability for the past. I can read news reports, like those linked above. I can read all sorts of public documents, but I am all too aware--having been a person who wrote documents--the silences and omissions and safe statements in much public information. For a couple of years now, I've been trying to listen for underrepresented voices and lift them up. It doesn't matter whether I agree with what they say. I try to understand. I get burned out and take a break. I go back and try again to read and learn, and (hardest of all) to curb my desire to "weigh in" and argue and question. In recent years, parts of the Canadian literary community have also been trying to lift up Indigenous and other underrepresented voices. Recently, this collaboration between Prairie Fire and CV2 appeared in my mailbox. And wh...

Last week, I wrote about my November book, Little Women . As is always the case when I read my "old faves," I was uncomfortably aware of statements and omissions that are, frankly, racist and classist. And I wanted to get some perspective. So I did, at this invaluable resource: American Indians in Children's Literature . Dr. Debbie Reese founded and managed this resource for years, and now has help. An enrolled member of the Nambe Pueblo in New Mexico, she has also held positions at the University of Illinois. She and Jean Mendoza share their reviews of books--both books they recommend and those they don't (with reasons why)--and welcome thoughtful comments and discussion. Although Little Women isn't discussed much, many of my other childhood favourites are. I've learned a lot from the resources and conversations. I would say that I don't always agree with the perspectives, but that's really not my place. I have too much to learn. I may have lin...

Recently I've been thinking about how strongly I associate books with particular months or times of the year. Last week I shared my October Book and why it suited October . Previously, I talked about the surprises of rereading a book I always associated with September (which may more properly be a May book). Which brings me to November, the month of my birthday. Back in the Days of Yore, a calendar (printed! on paper!) was considered a wonderful and appropriate (and somewhat affordable) gift for a hard-to-buy family member--a father, say, or a brother (or three). In my experience, November gets the most boring pictures. The best are January (usually the cover), something stunning for a summer month (often July), and a cozy interior scene for December, which if not explicitly about Christmas is at least about indoor warmth, hot chocolate, and a roaring fire. Of course, being me (a person who holds meaningless grudges against monolithic institutions and incoherent concepts l...

In September, I posted about a book that I always think of in September . I meant to do one in October, but I didn't have a chance to revisit this old friend until now. So even though it's November, here's the October book: Mrs. Miniver , by Jan Struther. No, not the movie , lovely though Greer Garson might have been in it, and important though it might have been in showing Americans what was at stake in the war they had so far (in 1940, when the book was compiled and published) refused to enter. Nope. It's the book, the text of which is available online here , along with lots of notes about what was and wasn't "real," and what made it into the movie and what didn't. I think it's worth reading, but I'm biased. Actually, this book could serve as a September book as well. It begins in September of 1937 and ends just after war is declared in September of 1939. In a series of slice-of-life vignettes set roughly two per month (evidence they...

This morning I noticed that our outdoor thermometer showed very little red. The temperature has been dropping recently, and it got cold last night: near 0F/-18C. Although I'm still limiting my social media exposure, I do cross-post a photo to Facebook and Instagram, usually daily but sometimes not. Taking and sharing photos is partly an act of attention  and partly an act of caring for my extended family. They enjoy seeing random day-in-the-life moments from this lovely place I live, which has meant so much to our family.*  So: the thermometer. I considered taking a picture of it. I considered what I'd say: "Soon, this temperature will lose its shock value, but today? Yikes." I didn't actually take the picture, though. I thought maybe something else interesting would turn up. The lake looked interesting, and I was up early enough to watch the light change. So I started my morning social media/email check-in. Facebook showed me a memory from this date four ...

Here are a couple of quotes from What Light Can Do , collected essays by American poet, translator, and critic Robert Hass (2012). "One of the things I love about the essay as a form--both as a reader and a writer--is that it is an act of attention. An essay, like a photograph, is an inquiry, a search....There are a lot of different ways to write essays, a lot of different ways to say thing, so the pleasure and frustration of writing essays is that you are often discovering the object of inquiry and the shape of the search at the same time...." And later: "The deepest response to a work of art is, in fact, another work of art." I've been thinking a lot about attention. Times when giving attention to something grants it power. And other times, when something gains power through our inattention, when we deliberately ignore it or maintain ignorance about it. For the past few months, the Thunder Bay Art Gallery has hosted a national touring exhibition of U...

A long time ago, in a country that feels increasingly far, far away, I learned something important: Many sentences with a ? at the end are NOT actually questions. (I was probably watching Dr. Phil. Don't @ me.) Here are a couple of sentences that read as questions that aren't actually questions: * How could you do this to me? * What were you thinking? Recently I've (re-)discovered a corollary: Many requests for input/feedback/thoughts are NOT sincere requests. Silly me, I keep forgetting this corollary. So if someone asks what I think, I forget my lines.  Here are some things I'm supposed to say instead of giving my opinion, even in a setting when we are all ostensibly encouraged to give input, even when I'm not taking the space of someone whose voice is traditionally underrepresented, even when I've been asked: * Gosh, I don't know. What do you think? * It's perfect as it is--no changes needed! * Oh, I'm sure you're right! R...

Good reading recently! 1. Tanis MacDonald, Out of Line . Thoughts on being an artist outside of The Big City (as you define it). Addresses lots of issues of class. Contains lots of truths, both hard and inspiring. * "What is there to say about not winning, or even not being nominated? This is the state in which most writers live their lives" (p. 163). * "Artists need to be sensitive, but they also need to be tough" (p.  169). * "Don't worry about a grand plan. Produce work. Make stuff" (p. 174). 2. The simply lovely blog by Alberta writer Shawna Lemay, Transactions with Beauty  A photographer and writer, she shares words AND images AND bits of poetry from others. It's a treat to dip in, and she updates often. Here's just one recent thought, from a few months that have felt especially difficult (although perhaps most times feel especially difficult). * "But there's something about good writing by women that makes me feel les...

A quintessential October image: coloured leaves. Lighting a tree. Swirling through the air. Chasing other leaves down a rivulet. Lying on the ground in splendid repose. After an intense and busy season--"season of life," not specifically this summer, though that too--all my focus, attention, intensity, whatever you call it, seems to be devoted to sleeping and goofing around. I'm trying to listen to myself, which includes listening to my body. Because who knows, really, how long this turn will last--the turn toward fallow, toward rest, toward yin from yang. Yang in the weather will re-approach in the spring, with the sun, but other outward-facing projects might appear regardless of weather. A couple of leaves I've been chasing around: 1. The unique satisfaction of a reading wonderful library book that turns out to be every bit as wonderful as was claimed. I feel this especially keenly because the previous library book turned out to be a dud--though that's...

It's Thanksgiving weekend in Canada. I'm grateful for women who speak up at great personal cost. I'm grateful for the opportunity to vote, even when it is the very definition of an exercise in futility. I'm grateful for people who wield their power to make life just a little easier for those around them. Today, for example, I read a tweet from a teacher who talked openly with his students about navigating higher education. He told them that they were welcome to ask him for help with assignments, how to schedule an appointment to talk with him or other professors, that deadlines could be altered for some situations, that it's always better to be upfront about struggling than pretend you're on top of things or know what's happening. He's using his power and position to help level the playing field for students who are the first in their families to access higher education. He's making explicit those norms and unwritten rules that those familia...

Words to describe North America: worried, tumultuous, fevered, agonized, enraged, weary. * Some weeks are like that. Last week. For example. Probably this week, too. * 0 * Some weeks, you know you're fragile. Cracks appear. Some weeks, you can hold it together. Like this. Some weeks, you can't. And that's OK, too. * 0 * *Are we in North America lucky? Or perhaps, "lucky"? We're still here. We have not yet been swept away in flash floods, mudslides, wars. Our homes aren't flooded or crumbled. I acknowledge our affluence.

I don't remember why I was wandering the university library stacks that weekend. I'm not sure which day it was, or what year. Or, come to think of it, why I was in the library at all, except that I was in graduate school, and the library was not my apartment. It was somewhere else to go, with different chairs to sit in while I did the required readings and kept up a response journal. (Do writing programs still require those?) On a break, I wandered through shelf after shelf of novels. I took one down and flipped through it. As I recall, on the very first page a seventeen-year-old girl wakes up to a fresh autumn morning full of golden leaves and sunshine and declares herself to be the future famous and beloved actress, Marjorie Morningstar. She even writes her name in an affected script. She's adorable. Also at a crossroads in my life (though different in important ways), I recognized that feeling of expansiveness. Anything seems possible! I can go anywhere! The whole wo...

September, a time of new beginnings. Back to school. Vacation's over. New shoes, new winter coat, new pens/pencils/notebooks. New routines. Starting again. September, a time of letting go. Summer's heat wisps away, a little at a time. You hardly notice. Then the furnace kicks on. You look up and around and see things like this and this. September holds nothing back. It teases you with a little summer yet hints at winter. "Look up, look around, look at me," it urges. And so we do. It's a transition time--as I have said a few times , from "yang time" to "yin time," from publishing and submitting and revising and writing about writing to a more inward-focused time, when (if you're lucky) you can do the actual writing itself. What's coming is time for research, and dreaming, and the delightful frustration of new drafts. Ahh. Welcome, September.

I forgot about a load of laundry--left it in the washing machine (ostensibly clean) overnight. Mid-morning, when I remembered it, the load stank in that sour way of wet things in an enclosed space. A problem to solve. Which I have. So far. (When I wear the t-shirts that were part of that load, I'll have a better idea of how effective my solution was.) In other news, one of my characters threatens to disappear into the ether of digital manuscript pages. He needs to be a little more charismatic. Even if only to himself. A problem to solve. Not something to despair over, no matter how real this person is (to me) and how thoroughly he lacks charisma. Taking a break for much of August , as much as I was able to, has turned out to be a good choice, especially after ten days in Saskatchewan working in-depth on this novel. Perspective, I believe it's called. I may wander away from social media even more as summer wanes and autumn arrives, the better to keep solving problems...

I don't like my pen. It blotches. The ink gets all over my fingers, even after I've given it time to dry. It's a pain in the neck to use. I don't like my pen. I really wanted to like this pen. It came in a cool package with pens of various colours. I like using coloured pens--green, red, or this purple--during the day. I had high hopes for this pen. I wondered if my hopes for this pen were too high. Was I seduced by hype around this pen? I tried to like it, really I did. See? SEE? It blotches. I'm even using a pen-wiper. Yes, using a pen-wiper makes me feel a little like Jo March, but that's not enough to offset the problematic aspects of requiring a separate place to wipe your pen's nib periodically. But I don't have to justify not liking the pen. I don't like it. I don't have to like it. I (gasp) don't even have to use it up . (Those whose parents also never got over their Depression-era childhoods will understand the radical natu...

This Saturday! From noon until 4! I'll be at Chapters in Thunder Bay, along with a bunch of other Thunder Bay/area authors (including Roy Blomstrom , author of SILENCES: A NOVEL OF THE 1918 FINNISH CIVIL WAR) (and also my husband) representing our books through Shuniah House Books . If you're in the area, come in to meet folks, buy books or have them signed, and/or enjoy a beverage in the air-conditioned comfort. The most up-to-date list of other participating authors: Sandi Boucher, Sam Convey, H. Leighton Dickson, Roma Fisher, Makenzi Fisk (publisher of, among other books, Canadian Shorts, which includes a short story of mine) , Deanna Ford, Eva Kakepetum, Rob Kozak, Michelle Krys, Kyle Lees, Terrence McParland, Merk, John Pringle, Shannon Robertson, Evan Sills, and the Friends of the (Thunder Bay) Library. Hope to see you there!

It's summer, which is a lovely season here on the Lake Superior north shore. I'd like to spend more time out there enjoying it, and less time at my desk. Also, it's prime visiting time here, which is also fun. Therefore, I'll be not 100% "out of the office," but not exactly in the office, until September. I may pop in here with news or items of interest. I'll be off Twitter (mostly) (I hope) but I'll be around on Instagram @marionagnew and I'll pick up email. Wherever you are, whenever it is you're reading this, I hope you're able to enjoy being where you are.

The most recent issue of Prairie Fire arrived! It includes my essay, "Hours of Daylight," another from the collection about my mother and her illness and our family. I'm so pleased that Betsy Warland recognized it and I'm honoured that it appears in this company.  Managing journals and contests is a lot of work, and I appreciate the effort that groups across Canada put in to make our work available to readers. Thanks so much, Prairie Fire !

I've read a bunch of really great books lately, including this one. I especially like this quote, page 215: "In the long run, the revision process feels better if you approach it with curiosity. Each editorial mark can't register as a 'mistake' that threatens the spider ego. Remind yourself that revising proves you care for the reader and the nature of your ambition." Curiosity. Check! Back to work.

"...history to question..." "hope--a new constellation/waiting for us to map it/waiting for us to name it--together" Today, I remember that the "American" continents look the way they do because of theft and murder, the shameful dismissal of lives, human and other. That the exploitation is redoubled, today. And I remember that we can again face the stars and map that constellation. Hope. Here is the full text of Richard Blanco's Inaugural poem, "One Today."

"One recent morning, I went for a walk and saw a dog." My essay "Entanglement" has appeared at Atticus Review , a daily online journal that provides "a platform, not a pulpit." You can check out my essay  at this link . I'm thrilled to have work in this publication! The Nonfiction page alone has many gems, though given my stubborn streak about relating quantum physics to love and to dogs, I'm especially drawn to Infrared, by Morgan Conyer . Many thanks to the folks at Atticus. All publications, whether print or online, require time and dedication as well as a strong commitment to public discourse. Again, thank you.

My essay, "Let d Be the Distance Between Us," is currently available at The Grief Diaries , "a magazine of art and writing about loss." It's part of their Volume 4, Issue 1 Anniversary Issue.  I invite you to read it ! While you're there, check out the other writing and art--lots of crackerjack intergenerational nonfiction as well as moving fiction, translations, poetry, art, and a photo essay. Beautiful work in this current issue as well as in the archives! It's exciting to have work in part of a larger conversation about mothers, daughters, love, and grief. I'm grateful.

Over at "Off the Shelf," the blog for the Thunder Bay Public Library, you can read an interview with me . In it, I talk about working with scientists and engineers, publishing in literary journals, and the big umbrella that is "creative nonfiction." Shauna Kosoris asked great questions, and I had a lot of fun answering them. Thank you so much for the opportunity! In one of my answers, I mentioned revising one particular essay many times--I'm pleased that this essay, "Entanglement," has been accepted by Atticus Review. Stay tuned for its publication date. While you're at "Off the Shelf,"  check out some of the other content --book reviews, recommendations, and interviews.

Elections are underway on both sides of the border--primaries in the US, and tomorrow, the Ontario Provincial election in Canada. This was my first time to vote in an election in Canada. I voted early. I didn't have to wait at all. It was easy and fabulous. (Fingers crossed the result will be, too.) Vote. EDITED TO ADD: Seriously, Ontario? Sigh.

Issue #146 of The New Quarterly is now available in print in bookstores and by order from their website.  Because "Atomic Tangerine" appears in that issue, my "writing space" post also appears on their blog this month. You can see it--an example of judicious photo cropping-- at this link . They make selections of their current issue available for free to non-subscribers for brief periods online; you can read all the back issues by subscribing to their newsletter. Thanks, TNQ, for taking such great care of my piece and ensuring that people are able to read it.

I often make mistakes, and try to own them , which means I also look for courses of action that are "never wrong." I wrote about this recently . To that list, I will add something else: going for a walk. Especially when you can retrieve beautiful objects like those below. Or even when you simply enjoy beautiful moments and create beautiful memories.

Dear Everyone: I am so sorry that our group of people talking disturbed you. Some of us didn’t know we were in a designated quiet space, and some of us knew but didn’t remember and were thoughtless. None of which matters. All of us were rude and disrespectful. I’m so sorry for that. I have no excuse. I wish I could un-do it, or make it up to you. I wish I could restore to you the hours that you had hoped would be productive. I’m sure you didn’t get everything done that you’d planned to because we were noisy. More than that, I wish I could give you back your inner peace—the positive resolve with which I imagine you approached your study session in the library. I try to picture your day up to that point. You kissed your kids and slipped out into the morning, skipping breakfast. You wanted to be early to your work shift so you could leave on time and spend your afternoon with your project. While you cleaned or filed or taught or washed dishes or researched or treated...

1. Buying more underpants. 2. Buying more socks. 3. Throwing in a load of laundry (water levels permitting). Hmm, is there a relationship between those three? 4. Slowing down to look, REALLY LOOK, at something. Maybe taking a photo. 5. Being open to *hearing* input while staying thoughtful about *implementing* it. 6. Saying "What do you think?" and "That must have been difficult" or "How interesting." I'm pretty good at #4 but need work on #6. And #5 is always a work in progress. 7. Keeping an extra loaf of bread in the freezer. Bonus points if it's raisin bread! 8. Making scones. Because scones are never wrong.

I recently received word that my essay, "Let d Be the Distance Between Us," will appear in the June issue of The Grief Diaries . I very much appreciated their interest in providing feedback on an earlier version, and my piece is stronger for it. Also, I'm eagerly anticipating the chance to get together with other Creative Nonfiction folks in Toronto at this weekend's annual conference of the Creative Nonfiction Collective . The Friday master classes are sold out and conference registration itself has closed, but there are still several events for which you can just buy a ticket and hear an awesome speaker or several. This year's conference program is here . These "new beginning" events mean a  lot to me. This time of year is difficult. My mother's birthday is tomorrow--she would have been 101 this year--and her death anniversary is early next week. Of course, Mother's Day is also looming. Although I think of my mother every day, even 18 years...

I've been thinking about writing as water. Or swimming. Or something. In this mental picture, the surface is where writing interfaces with the world--maybe publication, maybe beta readers, maybe a trusted editor. Someone other than the writer. Deep water is where ideas lurk and grow. It's where the writer opens herself to recording what is actually happening, as opposed to what she might wish were happening. Where she makes connections among disparate currents, where she finds what she's afraid of and works it into the drafts. Over time, drafts edge closer to the surface. For the past couple of years, I've been working nearer the surface, with words I first wrote 20 years ago. How do they still make sense to me, if they do--or do they make sense in a different way? How do they resonate emotionally today? What feelings have I managed to relinquish through the years, and what have I come to understand that lets me feel these events differently? To make these conne...

Yesterday was the first Wednesday in a couple of years, I think, in which I didn't post something. I was traveling and enjoying being (mostly) offline. As you know, I've been on a vacation in which I've actually been...vacating. It's been great! I've thoroughly enjoyed visiting my sister, seeing her world (the sun! so many degrees on the thermometer!) and her part of the country, and experiencing a change in routine. But I love living here. So one of the highlights of the whole trip: crossing the border yesterday and hearing the agent say, "Welcome home." And it really is, pale sunlight, muddy driveway, filthy floors, dripping eaves, and everything else that goes with spring in the North (which yeah is south of most of the continent). Of course, all that is easier to greet with open arms since I missed the most recent dump of snow and mega windstorm, which my husband delights in describing in great detail as he pounds on the walls. "Every door...

Here's what I've been looking at and doing recently. I don't believe in "inspiration" much, but I am a fan of "renewal," and that's what I've been fortunate enough to experience this vacation. Next week, I'll be back in the land of "yes the sun is shining but it's not WARM," and I'll love being there, too--because it's home.

One way I relax (okay, about the only way, and often it should be written "relax") is to draw lines on paper. Like so (which you would have seen on Instagram if you follow me there): I don't mean it to be art. It's something to do when I try to unwind. I like lines and I like colo(u)rs and I like to do things with my hands. I've written about this before, apparently . It's kind of shocking to click that link and see that I also didn't like to do much beyond writing and reading back in 2011. However. I bring this up because I wondered last week how I know I'm a writer and not a visual artist. Perhaps, I devil's-advocated myself, writing is comfortable--not a calling, nothing more than an old, broken-in shoe of an activity. When I was a kid, art seemed to require tools we didn't have, like easels and paints and wheels and kilns. Also, art required getting messy, which was sort of problematic in the house I grew up in (it made more wor...

It occurred to me yesterday that email, mail, and other courier services don't include a hope-meter. That is, you can't tell by looking at the mailed item whether the person who sent it off was hopeful or discouraged. All you can tell is that the sender got the required elements together and sent it, however that looked: she clicked Send, clicked Submit, paid for a stamp and shoved it into a mailbox, whatever. It's probably a good thing, too. Because by the time the sent item arrives, the sender might well feel different--resigned, perhaps, or something even more neutral. Regardless, the thing to do is get stuff sent. It doesn't matter how you (I) feel about it. Just, as they say, do it.

Here are some random thoughts that have floated across my consciousness recently. They're mostly related to "belonging" and "home," which are, not coincidentally, themes of "Atomic Tangerine," soon to appear in The New Quarterly . 1. I picked up my Canadian passport. Now that I have the ability to leave and return to the country as I wish, I feel more comfortable about staying. There's probably something to examine there. Maybe it's just typical human nature. Maybe I'm part cat, wanting out from in and in from out. 2. Speaking of the Canadian citizenship ceremony, it was...interesting. Sweet, actually. Held at a local high school. One of the school's students was becoming a citizen. I managed to repeat the oath and sing the anthem. And I now have all the lapel pins a new citizen could ever want. 3. Still on the citizenship ceremony: I've always liked "Uptown Funk" --catchy hook, great video, what can I say, I like po...

The theme for March has been "postpone." Because of illness, a friend postponed a get-together. For some mysterious physicians' reasons, a medical appointment has been delayed. Travel issues have caused a family visit to be postponed for months. As a result, my schedule has room to breathe. And therefore, deadline that I had given up on meeting is now not only possible but reasonable. Because of this room, I can not only "send something" just to be sending something, I can send something that's recently revised and re-considered. Perhaps even re-re-re-considered. It's a good goal. So I will take advantage of fun (and appointments) deferred and meet it. On the flip side, I'd planned to make a blueberry cobbler for the visitors. Even though they're not coming, it's still on my list for this evening. Because a cobbler is a sort of pie, and today's pi day, and my cobbler topping is scone dough, and (as we all know) scones are never ...

The days are getting longer, but the ice remains on the roads, and therefore, my walks remain on the treadmill. Which means I listen to podcasts. I was especially excited to see notice of the return of this podcast: Missing & Murdered . This season focuses on learning the story of Cleo, a young girl from the generation of the "Sixties Scoop." As I said here, I learned so much from the first season of this podcast --among other issues, how and why some people might zero incentive to cooperate with authorities. True-crime podcasts can feel squicky, in the way that reality TV shows can: exploiting tragic stories for sensationalism, fame, or ratings. I have wondered whether I'm "done" imbibing crime stories, whether those stories come in the form of books or podcasts or even longform journalism. I haven't decided. But even if I declare a personal moratorium on similar podcasts, I will continue listening to Missing & Murdered. First, it doesn'...

At the end of a month, any month, every month, I take stock of what I've done and what's happened. Things that are inside and outside of my control. In the past couple of months, I've spent a lot of time reading and sitting with other peoples' work, talking about writing and arts, talking about the writing process --talking in general. And the flip side, listening. For the most part, it's been a really good experience. I've learned a lot. I hope other people I've interacted with know how grateful I am to have had the opportunity to hear their perspectives and share my own. It's been a lot of reading, talking, and listening. Not so much writing. Which I'm looking forward to changing, as I turn the calendar page.

At this time of year, I have to keep reminding myself that I don't always get to decide when something is done. I may be sick to death of revising, but that doesn't mean the essay is "done." Similarly, I may be sick to death of dressing in ninety-eleven layers and wearing boots, but that doesn't mean winter is "done." On the other hand, *I* can be done with something--like *I* can be "done" revising an essay. For now. *I* could even be "done" with winter. As it happens, I haven't yet scheduled a trip to visit my sister (who, conveniently for my attention span for winter, lives in Tucson), so I'm not quite "done" yet. Later, I can revisit the essay. If it's still as "done" as I can make it, then I can send it out. One reason I haven't yet scheduled my sun-seeking trip is that I want to be sure that the time away is worth the return to a landscape that hasn't actually let go of winter....

Next weekend (in ten days), as I've mentioned , I'll be participating in the "Ask an Author" event, sponsored by the Northwestern Ontario Writers Workshop . As part of the lead-in to that event, I contributed a post to the NOWW blog, sharing a little about my background and writing history, what I'm working on, and how I feel about peanut butter on toast. I invite you to go there and read this , and be sure to scope out all the other participants in the event, as well. There are many ways to "be a writer"--far more than the six we represent!--but we are all happy to share the pitfalls and rewards of the path we've taken to get here. 

I've mentioned before that one of my favourite podcasts is Scriptnotes . It is, as the subtitle says, a podcast about screenwriting and things that are interesting to screenwriters. John August, a screenwriter and the originator of the podcast, is launching a new middle-grade book series soon, featuring a character named  Arlo Finch . He's also launching a podcast--limited-episode, apparently; the "mini-series" equivalent of podcasting--in advance of his book's launch. The new podcast is called Launch, and it's presented by Wondery . In it, he talks about his book and what he's learned in the past two years as he's entered a new realm of storytelling. He even got to see his book being printed, which is pretty cool. I've listened to several episodes, not all (yet). However, what I've heard so far is a great basic resource for answers to some of those questions. I recommend listening. And if you're interested in lots of "how to...

Here's a neat event: it's Ask an Author! Similar to the Human Library, this event lets you sign up to ask writers about whatever you want to ask about. It's an honour to appear with these writers--I'd like to sign up for 20-minute chats myself! So mark your calendars for February 24, in the afternoon. You can sign up in advance, but half of the slots will be held for people who appear at the door. Thanks very much to NOWW and the Thunder Bay Public Library for organizing this event and for supporting writers in general.

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that I was going to read at an event sponsored by NOWW, the Northwestern Ontario Writers Workshop . And I did! I always enjoy reading, once I'm there and standing up. (It really does help to practice ahead of time, so that I know what's coming when I turn the page.) I also enjoy reading at events that occur anywhere from one to three months from now, when the event itself is in some comfortably far-off future, at which time I might finally be that confident person I dream of becoming. (And have the definitive confident-writer purse. For some reason, owning the perfect tote/purse/bag is elusive. Maybe I have a Mary Poppins complex.) However. I don't always enjoy reading "tonight" or even "day after tomorrow." As usual, the experience was really fun. I so appreciated the attention and respect of the people who showed up. And it was great to hear others share their work as well. The event was note-worthy for me...

I had wonderful news recently: my essay, "Hours of Daylight," won third prize in the creative nonfiction division of the 2017 Prairie Fire writing contest . It will appear in their summer issue, along with all the other fabulous contest winners. The judge was Betsy Warland , and I'm thrilled that she even read my work, to say nothing of choosing it as worthy of recognition. (A quiet squee: squee !) Excerpts from winning entries in all three categories are available here . It's such an honour to appear in the company of these writers! I'm looking forward to reading this issue.

A week from tomorrow, I'm participating in a really fun event: a reading, sponsored by the Northwestern Ontario Writers Workshop. ( Details: 7 PM at the Mary J. L. Black Library .) The theme is "Janus," naturally, it being January. And what better theme for someone who's spent the past year's granted time writing and revising creative nonfiction? (Sad to say, what better theme also for someone who also spent a significant part of this past year SERIOUSLY revising a novel manuscript that has, shall we say, aged. Which isn't a question.) I haven't quite decided what I'll read yet, but I will soon, and then I'll start practicing. Because no matter how many times I read a piece aloud before I submit it somewhere (and that's a lot of times), reading in front of other people is a VERY different experience. And a fabulous one. Audiences are so helpful to writers who are working to better understand how people read them. (And isn't that all o...

A couple of years ago, I wrote about my best life-simplifier, indulgence, and challenge . Every time I use those iced-tea spoons, I am grateful I got them. Last/this year, my best life-simplifier is combined with my best indulgence: I got an egg cooker. Years ago, I received one from a cousin but somehow lost track of it in a move. So I bought a new one, and I even paid $5 extra to get it in teal. (Indulgence.) The colo(u)r makes me smile. I've used it often. I eat eggs for breakfast almost every day, and having them cooked and waiting in the fridge makes mornings (not my best time) so much easier. Two years ago, I mentioned saying NO to most things, so that I could say YES to others. I still try to do that. Specifically in the writing world, I have said YES to things that scare me, and as a result, submitting work to publications is now easier. This year, I'm in the position of submitting entire manuscripts for the consideration of strangers--a new level of scary--...