Life

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“Why I Write – My Writing Journey” – AN INVITATION TO VOTE AGAIN FOR IAN MOORE-MORRANS, A FINALIST IN THE AUTHOR’S SHOW CONTEST “50 GREAT WRITERS YOU SHOULD BE READING”

Seal-2013Finalist-300On September 18, 2013 we blogged an invitation to vote for Ian Moore-Morrans as he entered the first phase of The Authors Show 2013-1014 contest “50 Great Writers You Should Be Reading” which ended on November 1st.  We greatly appreciate any and all votes cast. Enough of you did vote for him so that now Ian is a finalist in the second (and final) phase of the contest. This is an invitation to AGAIN VOTE FOR IAN in this final phase.

Here is the information from Danielle Hampson, Executive Producer of The Authors Show:

The final phase of our contest is now open for voting through December 1, 2013. The top fifty authors with the most votes will be included in the 4th edition of  “50 Great Writers You Should Be Reading” to be published in January 2014.  A special prize will also be awarded to the top winner in each book genre: Fiction, Nonfiction, Children and Christian.  To view the names of all the finalists and to vote for your favorite author in our final phase, go to: 

http://www.wnbnetworkwest.com/WnbAuthorsShow50Writers2013-Contest-Finalists.html.”

Thanks in advance to those of you who will cast a vote for Ian. We are including a copy of Ian’s entry into the contest which asked for him to write about his journey as a writer. We hope you will enjoy it.

Best wishes,

Ian and Gayle Moore-Morrans

Why I Write – My Writing Journey

by  Ian Moore-Morrans

Author of From Poverty to Poverty: A Scotsman Encounters Canada

Folks remark that I have a gift for gab and storytelling. However, whatever free time I had was taken up by music-making. Important as it was to me, writing took a back seat to making music.

Though growing up in abject poverty in Scotland during the Great Depression, I was fortunate to attend school until I was 14. I liked learning and tried my best to do well in my class work. My English teacher had remarked about the quality of my essays and compositions. When she mentioned that I should become a journalist after I finished school, I found it an intriguing but totally impossible suggestion. I could only conclude, ‘What a picture that would be—me sitting at a desk with holes in my shoes and no underwear!’

When schooling was over, I had to find a job. Working as an apprentice to a local blacksmith, I had neither time nor energy to write, though I earned some money and built up muscle. My free time was spent learning to sing and play an instrument as part of the Salvation Army. Music-making became my passion.

Four years later I joined the Royal Air Force. Finally I had decent food, clothing and living conditions plus an opportunity to learn a trade—Flight Mechanic Engines—and to continue to play in a band. I served in England, Wales, Scotland and the Suez Canal Zone in Egypt. Being far away, I enjoyed writing letters home and hearing remarks about how exciting I made my life sound and how much folk learned from reading what I wrote. I was to benefit most by corresponding with my pen-pal. Mary and I kept up a steady correspondence and then met in Glasgow just after I returned to Britain. We were soon married.

Whenever I had a chance at work or leisure, I told stories when I wasn’t singing songs or playing my trumpet. I fancied myself an entertainer but never thought of trying to earn a living at it. After five years’ service, I left the RAF. Not only did I have a wife to support; we were soon blessed with two daughters. I found work as a machine fitter in the steel industry around Glasgow. After awhile I applied for a clerk’s job in a big steel company. When interviewed, the supervisor mentioned that one of the biggest problems in the job was reading what someone had written. He asked me to write the numbers from 1 to 10 and also spell each one out in longhand and then print the words in capital letters. “Very good” he said, “at least we’ll have one person whose writing is legible. When can you start?” I couldn’t believe that was the test! Soon, my “penmanship” earned me a better job as a shift scheduler.

Having been misled by the inflated promises of an unscrupulous Ontario official, we got “itchy feet” and headed for Canada. Arriving in 1965, we soon found that my promised machining job was not available, nor were we in a financial position to buy a house as we had been led to believe. After five years of misadventures finding and keeping jobs and suitable homes, we finally reached the level of prosperity we had had in Scotland.
My family and I continued to live and work in Canada, moving almost every year to a different house, town or province (and different band) as jobs came and disappeared. I never seemed to have time to write down my stories, though I told plenty of them, both true and made-up. Finally, in 1995 at age 63, I decided if I didn’t start writing, I’d never do it.

In longhand over three evenings, I wrote “My Friend Jimmy,” a children’s story about a budgie that had no wings. Then I bought a simple, used computer and studied a learn-to-type book. I rewrote my children’s story and sent it away to a publisher, thinking full well that he would deem it the very best children’s story he had ever read! Soon I could just about paper the wall with rejections. ‘Never mind,’ I thought, ‘where there’s life, there’s hope.’ I went on to write others, thinking that I’d give “My Friend Jimmy” a try again at a later date. (Now, 17 years later, my wife/editor is starting the layout for “Jake, Little Jimmy and Big Louie,” a highbred of the original story!)

Next, I tackled my life’s story. Several times I’ve encountered people who heard my Scottish “burr” and then told me of Scottish ancestors. After inquiring, I would hear they had died and the family didn’t even know where in Scotland they had originated. Finally, I vowed to write my life story to avoid that state. Thus began the long process of remembering and writing into the wee hours of the night over the course of several years. I ended up with two volumes called “From Poverty to Poverty” and “Came to Canada, Eh?” Again, I submitted manuscripts which were politely rejected.

In 1984, I taught an adult class for men who had metal-cutting lathes and wanted to learn how to better use them. I loved this first and only experience of formal teaching. Later, I wrote a “how-to” book about machining steel, written for the type of people I had been teaching. Completed in 1998, I called it “Metal Machining Made Easy.” I did all of the 60-odd illustrations by hand. This was published in 2002 through Writers Exchange in Australia.

Shortly thereafter, my wife Mary died. I vowed to go on with life, continue to write but also to socialize and enjoy what time I had left. Then came the most significant encounter of my life. I started a conversation with an attractive widow about the eclectic assortment of stories I had begun writing after retirement. When I learned that Gayle was working as a magazine editor, I began to envision a future of our living and working together. We married in 2003 and, after she took an early retirement, we bought a motor home and set out to explore Mexico. While basking along Mexico’s Pacific coast, Gayle started editing my stories while I sat at the laptop and did re-writes, as well as writing a story of revenge called “Legal Hit Man.” Later moving inland to the mountainous north shore of Lake Chapala, we became residents of the world’s largest community of English-speaking expatriates. We joined the local writers’ group and met some wonderful writers from around the world. Soon my short story, “The Moonlit Meeting,” was published in a local magazine.

We returned to Canada in 2007 and now live in British Columbia. We have since published two books with a Scottish flair—a novel of adventure and time-travel, “Beyond the Phantom Battle: Mystery at Loch Ashie” and my memoir “From Poverty to Poverty: A Scotsman Encounters Canada.”

Age has caught up with me. When I first started seriously writing, I sketched out a few notes and went to work with everything flowing fairly smoothly. I kept going at all hours and wherever I was. At present, after over five years of illness, it’s becoming harder to find the energy to write. Luckily, I have a number of manuscripts waiting for Gayle to work on. Then I read through edits, give my approval or comments, and let her do the rest. Aren’t I fortunate?

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BEQUEATHING OUR HEIRLOOMS – A BLENDED FAMILY’S SOLUTION AND AN AUTHOR’S SOLUTION

Heirloom bone 001

*Heirloom = (1) Any piece of property that goes to an heir as part of an estate; or

(2) Any treasured possession handed down from generation to generation.

             (* from New World Dictionary of the American Language, Second College Edition)

We hope to avoid any  haggling over the “heirloom bones” by our descendents after we have passed away. Just reading about what is going on now in South Africa over the literal bones of Mandela’s relatives and, probably, over Mandela’s eventual burial place gives us the creeps. That news has been timely as we’ve immersed ourselves in research and discussions about end-of-life decisions this past month. Being a blended family brings some unique considerations to the fore. Both of us were previously widowed after long first marriages and have now been married to each other for almost ten years. At 70 and 81 years of age, having both experienced some serious health crises in the last several years, we found that it was time to re-do our wills and also to complete Enduring Powers of Attorney (granting financial control to a trustee if we became incapable of handling our affairs) and Representative Agreements (the name for “living wills” or end-of-life directives in our province of British Columbia).

This brings up a special problem that many blended families face, especially those of us who had a second marriage later in life, have grown children (grandchildren and even great-grandchildren) from our previous marriages and have brought a significant amount of “items” into our joined household from our previous households.  What happens to those items we each brought into the marriage, especially those items that one would consider a family heirloom? Normally, if one spouse dies, everything remains with the surviving spouse. However, for us, we needed to consider what would happen to the “Morrans family items” for instance, if Ian should die and Gayle survive? Or what would happen to the “Johannesson family items” if Gayle should die and Ian survive? These items do not have a great financial value; however, we and our families attach a great deal of sentimental value to them. Our solution was to specify in our wills that when each of us dies, those items that were brought into our marriage from the previous marriage be given to our own children from that marriage at the time of our death and not be retained by the surviving spouse. We feel that can avoid potential problems for all parties in the future.

A second problem was what to do about copyrights that belong to an author of published or unpublished works when that author dies. Thirdly, because Gayle has specific religious concerns, she also wanted to completely plan out her funeral and we both wanted to leave specific instructions for disposal of our bodies. We will share our solutions to the blended family problem first.

When we married in September 2003, Ian had been retired for several years but Gayle was still working, not yet having reached retirement age. She continued to work until taking an early retirement in July 2004. We had sold Ian’s house just after our marriage and Ian had moved into Gayle’s house with some of his furniture and household items but had given a lot of such items to his family members who lived in the same town. We had bought a large motor home and planned to drive it to Mexico to see if we wanted to retire there permanently. Thus, we decided to sell most of the furniture and household items, retaining those most important to us which we put into storage, intending to have it sent to Mexico if we decided to stay there permanently. After a year we decided that we preferred to return to Canada but to another province where the weather was more desirable. It took another year and a half to get organized, put our Mexican house up for sale and finally sell it. Now, here we are in British Columbia with a house full of “his”, “hers” and “our” stuff. We wanted to be sure that the “his” and “hers” stuff would eventually be given to “his” or “her” appropriate family members.

Gayle worked for several long days going through everything and making two lists of the appropriate items. Then we worked together to designate how the items would be divided amongst our various family members.

This is the wording with which we began our list:

LIST OF ARTICLES AND BENEFICIARIES* – For Wills of Gayle & Ian Moore-Morrans
*This is an addendum to the Wills of Gayle Irene Moore-Morrans and Ian
Moore-Morrans. We are listing only those items that we wish to bequeath 
which we each brought into our marriage in September 2003 from the families
of Gayle Irene Moore Johannesson and Ian Morrans. Any items not listed here 
are to be considered Moore-Morrans estate residue. A list of family members 
to whom we wish to bequeath these items is on page X.

The following headings were listed at the top of each page:

ITEMS          FAMILY  ITEMS               BENEFICIARY         LOCATION
            Johannesson  Morrans

The following categories were used to list the items:

FURNITURE
CARPETS & FLOOR COVERS
HOUSEHOLD LINEN
CLOTHING & SHOES
DISHES, CHINA, FLATWARE, SERVING PIECES
JEWELRY/WATCHES
ARTWORK
HEIRLOOMS
COLLECTIONS (BOOKS, COINS, CDS, DVDS, ETC.)
TOOLS

At the end we listed the designated recipients of each family’s heritage item and their family relationship to us plus their date of birth:

Example:

Daughter of Gayle Moore-Morrans: Jane Ann Doe, neé Johannesson, DOB Jan 00, 1977

On another subject, that of choosing our trustees (for the wills) or attorneys (as our representative is listed for the Enduring Powers of Attorney) or “representative” (for the Representation Agreement), we decided to each list each other as first trustee/attorney/representative and then, if we were unable to act for the other as in the case of death or disability, to name Ian’s son-in-law for him and to name a local friend for Gayle as she has no direct relatives in Canada.

As a proper Lutheran Celebration of Life (funeral) is important to Gayle, she has also added as an addendum to her will complete instructions for such a service plus a service of committal and disposal of her body.

Ian has left the choice of funeral or memorial service and disposal of his body to Gayle, if she survives him, and to one of his daughters should Gayle not survive him.

We both have included in our wills instructions that our bodies be cremated and have designated appropriate urns to be used from Gayle’s vase collection.

As Ian has published a number of works and written a number of others which he hopes to publish, his will designates that all copyrights, including moral rights, to all his published and unpublished works as defined in the Copyright Act, RSC 1985, c D-42, be transferred to Gayle or, if she does not survive him for 30 days, then to his daughters in equal shares or to their children if one or both of his daughters do not survive him. A list of his published and unpublished works is added as an addendum to his will.

We want also to point out a particular blogger who has two very informative sites about end-of-life topics which we have found valuable. Julie Hall’s two sites are:

http://www.estatelady.wordpress.com The Estate Lady Speaks: Compassionate Advice for Dealing with a Lifetime Accumulation of Stuff

http://www.alzheimercaregiver.wordpress.com In the Trenches: The Alzheimer’s Support Blog for Caregivers

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BIRTHDAY LIMERICKS

Ian 81 Bday cake

We celebrated IAN’S 81ST BIRTHDAY on May 2, 2013 with three other couples who have become very good friends to us since we moved to Vernon five years ago. Here we’ll share a few photos from the party, including one of friend Fernando accompanying us as we sang “Happy Birthday” to Ian. Usually our parties are centered around singing. This party centered around writing, with the theme  “Birthday Limericks.” We suggested that the limericks could center around one of Ian’s favourite things such as writing stories, singing, all things Scottish, his love of dancing or his favourite drinks – Scotch whisky and  good white wine.

LIMERICKS are a special kind of poem. Usually they have a five line cadence with a pattern of AABBA (in other words, the first, second and fifth lines rhyme and have the rhythm dah DAH, dah dah DAH, dah dah DAH; while the third and fourth lines rhyme and have the shorter rhythm dah dah DAH dah dah DAH. Ian is a fan of poetry ONLY when it rhymes. In fact, he claims a poem isn’t really a poem if it doesn’t rhyme. Therefore, the limerick is his favourite kind of poetry.

Bday Boy

Inspired by a fellow blogger (Flammeusgladius aka Tom Riley) Gayle had asked our guests to each write a limerick for Ian as a birthday gift. In thanks Ian has come up with the following limerick. For anyone who isn’t familiar with the Scottish use of the term “the noo”, that means “now” or “at the present time.”

Thanks to all for your limericks true

Heartfelt greetings from all of you.

You can tease, you can praise

And your glasses you raise.

but I’ll stick with coffee, the noo.

Gayle had corresponded with blogger Tom Riley prior to the birthday and, true to form as he puts his whole blog (Flammeusgladius)  into limerick form, he came up with this post on his blog for Ian’s birthday:

Birthday Dram

by flammeusgladius

(for Ian Moore-Morrans)

It’s with joy, and with no trace of sorrow,

That, upon an occasion I borrow

From your family, I drink

This Scotch neat.  And I think

You should add a new birthday tomorrow.

So here are the rest of Ian’s birthday limericks for your enjoyment:

From wife and editor Gayle:GayleIan Bday 81

Dear Ian, you’ve turned eighty-one.

Who says you’re too old to have fun?

We can sing, we’ll sip wines;

And we’ll both write some lines.

And that’s why I love you so, Hon!

From friend Nita:

Now we know that Ian’s Scottish.

As a dancer he was “hottish.”

He’d quick step; the girls would cling,

Then he’d do the Highland Fling.

But tell me, did he ever dance the Schottishe?

From our friend and accompanist Fernando:

Fer playing Happy Bday

Hey, Ian, I will play for you piano.

As long as in my ear you do not bellow.

Gayle has warned me, you sing loud.

When you entertain a crowd.

So go easy now, it’s better to sing mellow.

From Eric (a fellow Scotsman):

He wears a kilt

and sings wi’ a lilt.

He wears a tam

and likes a wee dram.

Now he and his lass

they are top class.

So sing for me

a tune that I luv

A song of my land

And that is “Misty Island.”

 (Note: “Misty Islands of the Highlands” is Ian and Gayle’s favourite song to sing together as a duet.)

 

From Patch:

Life of Ian

First poverty, then military.

The young Scottish millwright did marry.

Lived all over Canuck land.

Chased Incas with Gayle in hand.

Now as author in Vernon he’ll tarry!

 

From Gail (and Bill):

A task I’ve been handed for Birthday Boy Ian

He’s the best Scotch drinker that I’ve ever se-en

He’ll top up that glass

While he calls for his lass.

If I got paid for this, it’d be pretty le-an!

**

There’s Ian the Birthday boy in the kilt

When you hear him talk, there’s a wee bit o’ lilt.

He does talk to the dog

Then falls asleep like a log.

It just must be the way he is built!

**

If a young Scotsman moved across an ocean

Would it be Ian and would he have a notion

To work really hard and sing when he could

Perhaps write a book and make it real good

Then later drink a Scotch whisky potion?

**

OK, so we’re not pros at this limerick writing and maybe our meters and rhyming schemes were sometimes a bit of a stretch. But we really had fun and the topics were all very appropriate. We were happy, Ian was happy — what more could we ask for?  A good time was had by all! Once again, Happy Birthday Ian.

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On My Way Home

This blog moved me as I’ve been the parent of a prodigal son who has finally been returned to the family, although not physically. I’m excited to be planning a trip to visit him next month, for the first time in over seven years. I’m also adding at the end of this reblog, my own version of the prodigal son story that I wrote in 2001, during my time as the editor of Esprit magazine. I hope it will be an encouragement to others as Sammy’s post was to me. Gayle Moore-Morrans<!

From the Editor
A Tale of Grace
“For by grace you have been saved through faith; and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.” (Ephesians 2:8). Grace is a word that is central to our Christian faith and especially dear to those of us who, like Martin Luther, cling to “grace alone.” The grace of God abounds in God’s promise of unconditional love. Grace is evident in the stories of God’s people as they struggle with the ordinary and sometimes extraordinary happenings of daily life—in our relationships, contentions with evil influences and in our striving to live godly lives. Let me relate one such grace-filled tale.
There was a mother who had a daughter and a son. The father had died after a long, debilitating illness that caused tremendous strains on the family. The mother and daughter were blessed with strength they hadn’t even been aware they had—strength to deal with the grief and despair facing the family. Alas, the son was not able to call on those strengths. He lost his pleasant demeanor and easy laugh, his joy of living. God seemed totally distant to him and not able to help. The son began to act out at home and school—dropping out or running away from responsibilities, commitments and relationships. He alienated teachers, authorities and finally the family itself. Beginning to associate with others who were estranged from society, he soon was into the drug scene. He sold, pawned and traded his own and family members’ possessions to support his habit. Whether the cause of, or a consequence of drug abuse, a severe depression overcame the son. The depression only increased as the drugs interfered with any medication prescribed to treat the disease. The mother arranged for school, personal and family counseling, psychologists, psychiatrists, social workers and treatment programs. The son consented to try some, but soon dropped them; others he flatly refused to cooperate with or participate in. In the midst of this it became necessary for him to leave the family home, entering into a series of foster homes and residential schools.
Over the years, the mother kept up contact with the son when he would allow it. She slowly learned that the only way to help her son was to let him go—let him experience the consequences of his own actions, no matter how badly or helpless it made her feel. The one action left to the mother was prayer—calling on the grace of God to work in the life of her son and to eventually bring home the prodigal. And pray she did—bombarding heaven with clenched hands, tortured words and sighs too deep for words—beseeching God’s Holy Spirit to work in the life of her son.
As the years passed, the family relationship continued, with numerous ups and downs. On two occasions the son returned home for awhile, full of promises of reform; the mother full of hope that a change had really taken place; the daughter skeptical, but resigned to another attempt at reconciliation. Twice the attempt failed, with the son again embarking on the wayward path.
Then came the gift of grace—God’s free, undeserved gift to the son and the mother—and maybe even to the daughter. Being not much given to self-revelation, the son never really said what had brought him to the realization that he was on the fast track to destruction. Whatever it was, he finally cried out for help. On his own, he sought hospitalization, counseling, an addictions treatment program and reconciliation with the mother. All this took months with many stops and starts, fears and despair. But he did not waver from his stated desire to get away from the lifestyle in which he was mired. Finally, released from the hospital and beginning addictions treatment, he asked the mother to let him return home on a trial basis. It took all of her faith in God to call up the trust she needed to let him try again. Following a pattern set by the brother of the prodigal son in Jesus’ parable recorded in Luke 15, the daughter blew up, rebuking the mother for putting her faith in a lost cause and leaving them open once again to exploitation and disappointment. All this was followed by slammed doors and the silent treatment.
The tale is still unfolding. The mother was encouraged by a hug between siblings as the sister embarked on a summer’s vacation. Adjustments in medication are still causing ups and down for the son. How to deal with old friends from the bad times is still a problem to be solved. Getting on with life, carrying through with his stated intentions, continuing treatment, completing an interrupted education, rebuilding estranged relationships, making room for God in a life where God has not been welcome—all this takes time. But God’s grace has become more and more evident to the mother. She prays it will continue to unfold for her son and her daughter—grace for renewal, unreserved love and forgiveness for new life.
This issue contains other tales of lives enriched and renewed—all through the undeserved grace-gifts of God. (Perhaps some of us will even be moved to record our own or others’ grace stories.) May we celebrate this summer—and always—basking in God’s grace!
Gayle Moore Johannesson, Editor
(reprinted from Esprit, the magazine of Evangelical Lutheran Women, Summer 2001 issue, copyright © 2001)
Note: That was not the end of the story. More grace was needed as problems caused by addiction returned and returned, the family was again separated and estranged over a long period of years. But God’s grace, though sometimes it seemed absent, has returned and been renewed. Thank God for grace, faith and endurance. Gayle Moore-Morrans, 2013

Sammy's avatarInsight-Seeing From Within

Come Home Title ScreenI must have read the story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32) to my children a million times over the span of their childhood. I am not going to proclaim it was their favorite or even mine. But it was a good story that related to others and not me because in those days I was on fire for God and there was no way that I could or would ever become a prodigal son.

Unfortunately I labeled others who I saw seemingly leaving Gods will, forsake their calling, burying their talents etc.

See the problem was this, I never really met a real live contemporary prodigal.

I mean, no believer goes out one day and says, ‘that’s it I am going to be a prodigal son.’

I know this because, well, hmm, oh God help me say this, ok do it….I became a prodigal son myself.

Let me explain.

After…

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