Two enthusiastic thumbs up for “Savage Beauty,” Nancy Milford’s biography of Edna St. Vincent Millay. (Not a new book or anything; just one that’s been sitting on my shelf, waiting for its day.) It’s packed with the poet’s brilliant letters and sonnets, juicy details about her prolific love life, and minor revelations such as the fact that she went by Vincent, not Edna.

For some writerly inspiration, here’s an excerpt from an interview  (quoted in the book) Millay gave in 1931, long after she’d reached A-list status:

It’s this unconcern with my household that protects me from the things that eat up a woman’s time and interest. Eugen and I live like two bachelors. He, being the one who can throw household things off more easily than I, shoulders that end of our existence, and I have my work to do, which is the writing of poetry.

But I haven’t made the decision to ignore my household as easily as it sounds. I care an awful lot that things be done right. Yet I don’t let my concern break in and ruin my concentration and temper . . .

I work all the time. I always have notebook and pencil on the table at my bedside. I may wake up in the middle of the night with something I want to put down. Sometimes I sit up and write in bed furiously until dawn. And I think of my work all the time even when I am in the garden or talking to people. That is why I get so tired. When I finished “Fatal Interview” I was exhausted. I was never away from the sonnets in my mind.

I can always appreciate the reminder that talent—which Millay of course possessed in spades—does not a star make. Time is required too, and a laser focus. It probably doesn’t hurt to have hired help and a doting husband to “put you to bed” after dinner, as Millay’s husband did.

Because it’s almost Valentine’s Day, I’ll sign off with another few lines from one of my favorite Millay sonnets. (Full text here.)

Love in the open hand,
No thing but that,
Ungemmed, unhidden, wishing not to hurt,
As one should bring you cowslips in a hat
Swung from the hand, or apples in her skirt,
I bring you, calling out as children do:
“Look what I have!—And these are all for you.”