A Personal History of Rethink and Presence by Alan Anderson

 

Oh, my word, the posts this month are pure inspiration and encouragement! In all humility, I cannot add to the experience and suggestions already shown by our blog writers. I can but offer a brief consideration of how a “rethink” sparked my writing.

My Rethink History (Well, at least some of my history)

A Merriam-Webster definition of “rethink” notes, “to consider again especially with the possibility of change or reversal.” This definition fits much of my life. Please allow me to flesh this out.

From my first year at school until I graduated from high school, I never thought I fit in. I always had friends, but I also thought there was something different about me. I struggled with subjects like math, science, and languages, yet I did well in English. Even when I would go to math teachers for help, the concepts never sank into my brain. I felt like a complete reject.

In time, over the years of school misery, two teachers stand out as those who gave me hope. These teachers, Miss Gordon and Mrs. Horne, showed me how to rethink my young life. They taught me through informal one-on-one chats I didn’t have to be like other kids. They let me know I had a place in this world.

At home, I liked to make up stories and use my imagination. I was a shy boy, and my timidity caused me to hide my stories in case my parents or siblings would find them. I was afraid of being made fun of. The only thing I could think of was I would discard what I wrote. I threw my stories away.

Years later, in my teens, the counsel of Miss Gordon and Mrs. Horne helped me discover my love for writing. I rethought my writing and my life. I enjoyed writing essays and always felt a thrill when I received “A” or “B” on my work. When I got home from school, I would even inform my mum of my good marks.

The early encouragement from Miss Gordon and Mrs. Horne motivated me through my university years. I look back in amazement after I completed a master’s degree and thank God for these two teachers. They were a brief but strong presence in my life.

Rethink and write, then write again

I love to rethink my words after my first drafts. A norm for me is if I come to a goofy idea I don’t need to rethink, my words giggle at me. I hear these giggles in my head and words saying, “You don’t have to rethink or revise? Yeah, right, get back to work!” This is enough motivation to take out a notebook or turn my laptop on and get back to work. Revision is a must!

Presence and Voice

Here is a helpful statement from an experienced writer I read while I prepared to write this month’s post. The context of the statement is in the revision of poetry, but I suggest is helpful in other genres.

"No matter how you write, poorly or well, a reader will sense a presence. It’s your job as you revise to think about the presence you’re communicating. What will the reader think of the person who comes through the words, and how can your reader’s assessment be directed and controlled? A great part of the poem’s effect on its reader has to do with presence." (Kooser, Ted, The Poetry Home Repair Manual, University of Nebraska Press, 2005, p. 33.)

When I write, I always hope to show my presence or voice through my words. The presence and voice I project will hopefully present readers with a sense of who I am as a writer.

There you have it, my friends. My contribution to our October 2025 InScribe blog post. Dear InScribe blog friends, you will never know how inspirational you all are to me.

Alan lives in a small village called Deroche, British Columbia, with his wife, Terry, and their poodle, Charlie. He enjoys walking on the dike near his home, with trees all around and where he finds inspiration to write. He has occasionally written articles for FellowScript Magazine and is a regular contributor to the InScribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship blog. Alan’s website and blog is https://scarredjoy.ca.

Poem in a Box by Gloria Guest

“Cast your bread upon the waters:

for thou shall find it after many days." (Eccl 11:1)

I’ve always liked this verse in Ecclesiastes for its mysterious promise and unique suggestion. Biblical scholars suggest that it means to cast our service, generosity, gifts and talents out into the world to bless others and in some way, at some time God will bless that obedience and bring good back to us through it.

This past year I had an experience like this with a poem I had written twenty years ago and forgot about. Then one day; there it was, before a completely different audience than I had previous written it for. It was written for a man named Jim.

I felt that many people did not see who Jim really was and he needed to hear how God saw him and how I did. Jim had stepped into my life as a mentor, a friend and most importantly, a father figure. He was the closest person I had ever felt as a father, on this earth.

I’d forgotten it so completely that when Jim’s wife contacted me to see if she could have it framed and put up on his memorial table at his Celebration of Life, that I couldn’t even remember writing it. It was only when she sent it to me that it came back to me. She explained that Jim had tucked it away in a special box of mementos that were important to him. I was deeply touched and of course said, ‘Yes’ to setting it up on the table.

To add to my surprise, when I arrived at Jim’s memorial and was handed his funeral card, the poem was actually printed on the inside. It made me cry to think of just how much our words can mean to others, when we aren’t even aware. It also reminded me of how our words can come back to us years later, in the most unexpected of ways.

As writers we have the unique opportunity to reach into others hearts, to encourage them along their journeys, and to be blessed ourselves when some sign of the impact of those words that we had cast out upon the waters comes back to us, and we ourselves are blessed.

The Heart of a Good Samaritan

I wonder how he felt that day as he lay by the road,

His body bruised and bleeding, His nakedness exposed?
I wonder if he waited with longing in his heart,

For some kind soul to pass his way, With healing to impart?
Imagine how his heart despaired, when footsteps hurried by,

Belonging to religious men,

They’d left him there to die.
And then it was unthinkable, it couldn’t surely be,

A man who was Samaritan,

Was helping such as he?

With gentle care he bandaged wounds, poured oil on and wine,

And even took him to an inn,

And paid his every fine.
It’s really not so strange to see, it happens every day,

When people quickly pass on by, And leave the injured lay.
But God he searches to and fro for good Samaritans,

To send to hurt and wounded souls,

And be his feet and hands.
It’s not enough to simply say, I hope you’ll soon be well,

Or even say, I’ll pray for you, So sorry that you’re ill.
I’m sure if you were dying now and bleeding by the way,

You’d long for one to take the time,

And step out of their way.
The hearts of good Samaritans are precious, pure and few,

They’re people who don’t just rush on by,

But cross the road to you.

Thank you Jim, for crossing the road to me.

Gloria writes from a small town on the prairies of Southern Saskatchewan. She writes creative non-fiction, memoir, poetry, fiction & more. As a past reporter/columnist she has many articles published in various newspapers in the province. She's furthered her writing skills with classes in editing from Simon Fraser University & Creative Writing classes from the University of Toronto. Currently she has re-started her memoir and is starting up a writers group for youth in her town.

Reuse, Rethink, Recycle by Lorilee Guenter

 

The blank page stares at me, taunting me. It mocks my ability to write something new, something worth my time to write, and your time to read. I'd like to claim this is an isolated occurrence and normally words flow off the end of my pen as a river flows across the land. Sometimes they do but more often I jot a sentence here and another there. I pause to consider the words. I scratch out half or more of what is on the page and wonder if the taunting is accurate.

We read in Ecclesiastes 1: 9-10, "What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. Is there anything of which one can say, "Look! This is something new?" It was here before already, long ago, it was here before our time."

There is nothing new, so I can put my pen down in discouragement knowing the doubts and questions are correct. It would be easy enough to do. Except it isn't easy. I get restless when I am not creating in some way. I get grouchy and hard to live with.

There is nothing new, so I can put down the pressure. My thoughts have been thought, and my curiosities have been considered by others. However, these ones are mine and they have value to me if not to others. I have permission to consider, to process and to create from my place in time and space.

Because nothing is new under the sun, I can reuse my writing. I have heard others talk about re-purposing writing. I have read collections where authors put together a best of collection or a themed collection of their work. I did not consider this for myself until a comment I received about my A to Z blog posts. Now I am in the process of refining them based on what I have learned over the two years I wrote them. In this case, the blog commentators have helped by highlighting the words, phrases and sections that had impact. I am using the comments to hopefully strengthen each piece before I reuse it.

Because nothing is new under the sun, I can give myself permission to adjust my previous writing. Through revision I can re-imagine and rework a speech into an essay. Essays can become the seed of a story. I understand the theory behind this. In reality, I find it difficult to rethink writing from one format to another. The first format was chosen for a reason. There are times I have reworked a story from one format to another that is stronger.

Reuse, rethink, recycle. My favorite of the three is recycle. When I am revising my work, I often find sentences or paragraphs I do not want to get rid of. Yet I know they do not belong in the piece I am working on. If it doesn't fit, it needs to go. It goes into a snippets file. I have a snippets folder on my computer and I have a stack of scrap paper with phrase, fragments and ideas. None of these have found their home yet. Some of the fodder in folder of recycled snippets will never find a home. These files, both paper and digital, are one of the tools I turn to when I am stuck in my writing. As I read through the random words, new ideas begin to form. 

Since everything has already been done, I have permission to play with the words, ideas, curiosities and experiences that God has given me. It all has value when it comes from Him and not from my independent toil. The pressure is gone and the taunting voices silenced by God, the source of my ideas and curiosities.

Lorilee Guenter lives in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. She likes to experiment with plants, paint and words. Curiosity and creativity lead to many unexpected endeavors.

 

Reusing Writing by Carol Harrison

 

As I read the prompt for this month on reusing or recycling your writing, I thought of all the bits and pieces of writing on my computer as well as the books, articles, and stories I have written. What have I already reused at some point? What else could I recycle?

At an Inscribe Fall Conference a few years ago, our keynote speaker was Grace Fox. In talking to her about her thoughts on reusing or recycling our writing, she gave me a few ideas. With my memoir book, Amee’s Story, I could take portions of the story and rewrite them as a devotional to submit. I have used parts of the story as a devotional and also as illustrations when I have been speaking. Bits and pieces have wound their way into blog posts as well as short memoir style stories. Then I took one small section and expanded on it so it became a short story on its own. I submitted it to Chicken Soup for the Soul who published it. It referenced bullying Amee had experienced. For the short story I had the opportunity to add more of the details.

A devotional I wrote called The Crying Rock; I have used as an illustration when speaking. I also incorporated it into one of my novels, A Mother for Anna. It is a devotional based on a family story. I also wrote it up as a short story for a contest.

So as I pondered this prompt and remembered the conversation with Grace Fox at the conference, I realize I’ve recycled and reused some of my writing in a variety of ways. I need to revisit some other pieces of writing to see what else might be able to be adapted and recycled to submit somewhere instead of just sitting on my computer or on my bookshelf.

Maybe the first step is to organize all the files on my computer. They are in a bit of a disarray. Are there some bits and pieces or ideas that can germinate into short stories, devotionals, articles, or maybe even transform into a poem?

Each year I write family stories from various time frames and print them off in a booklet for my grandchildren for Christmas. Are there some of these family stories that could become, with adaptation, short stories to submit somewhere? The answer, I believe, is yes since I have used a few of them to submit to Chicken Soup for the Soul, several of which they have published. A couple of other ones have become devotionals or short memoir stories in the book I co-authored with Ruth Keighley called, Making Crooked Places Straight. Other stories for the grandchildren might just be waiting for their turn to be recycled and reused.

Then, as I organize my files and all the paper copies of writings, I might find some redundant pieces that can be reduced. Why do I need multiple copies or drafts of some pieces? But I am a packrat and it is hard to let go of the paper and just keep a digital copy of pieces of my writing. I am a work in progress on the organizing and reducing paper copies.

One thing I know about myself is I need to keep telling the stories in whatever fashion that takes. It might be through writing stories or devotionals. It might be when I am asked to speak or in conversation with someone else.

The verses from Psalm 71: 17, 18 resonate with this for me.

“O God from my youth you have taught me and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old age and grey hairs, O God do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come”.

Now it’s time to tell some stories.

 

Carol Harrison is a storyteller who sometimes even writes her stories down. She is a packrat who has a hard time organizing her bits and pieces of writing on her computer or jotted down on pieces of paper or in various notebooks.