"You know what? The bastard blows me out of the water. This guy writes Maine like Ardai writes New York. If you're not reading him, you don't know what you're missing." --Chris F. Holm, author of The Big Reap, The Wrong Goodbye and Dead Harvest.

"Bagley's got the poet's eye, but that doesn't mean everything is prettier in his work. It means the ugly stuff is more vivid. More intense. Like a sudden switch from analog to HD. And that's a trait to very much admire in his work." --Anthony Neil Smith, author of Hogdoggin', Yellow Medicine, The Drummer and Psychosomatic.




Thursday, January 15, 2009

A Mind of Winter

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
--from “The Snow Man” by Wallace Stevens (1923)


It’s cold this morning: -10°F. Small icicles form in my mustache just walking to the barn and back. The Jeep doesn’t want to start, and I can’t say I blame it. The hard-packed snow in the dooryard squeaks under my boots. Even with heavy gloves on, my fingertips start to go numb. The dog does his best to get around on three legs—not due to any injury, but because he is alternately keeping his right and left hind foot off the ground. Normally happy to make his rounds of the yard and the forest fringe, this morning he does his business as quick as possible and runs straight back to the porch.

In other words, it’s a damn fine day to stay inside and write. That won’t make me feel any warmer, though. The new novel takes place during winter.

2 comments:

pattinase (abbott) said...

This is hell for me. I wasn't meant to live in a cold climate. Stay warm.

Patrick Shawn Bagley said...

We had -18 at six o'clock this morning. Snow's on the way Sunday, so at least it will have to warm up a little.