Why It’s Worthwhile to Revisit Old Writing (Yours and Others’)

For years, I've subscribed to Poetry Foundation's "Poem of a Day" email — which I highly recommend.

This past Sunday's poem was "The Vacation," by Wendell Berry. Berry has long been one of my favorite writers, so I opened up the email expecting to love the poem.

I was surprised instead to find myself disagreeing a bit with Berry's sentiment. I still loved the poem, but I didn't share Berry's absolutist perspective.

For those not familiar, "The Vacation" goes like this:

Once there was a man who filmed his vacation.

He went flying down the river in his boat

with his video camera to his eye, making

a moving picture of the moving river

upon which his sleek boat moved swiftly

toward the end of his vacation. He showed

his vacation to his camera, which pictured it,

preserving it forever: the river, the trees,

the sky, the light, the bow of his rushing boat

behind which he stood with his camera

preserving his vacation even as he was having it

so that after he had had it he would still

have it. It would be there. With a flick

of a switch, there it would be. But he

would not be in it. He would never be in it.

Difference of Opinion

Your interpretation may vary, but my read on this poem is that it laments the modern-day propensity to spend so much time documenting our experiences that we forget to be present in them. That's a real and pressing issue.

But I also think it's more nuanced than Berry's poem suggests. While reading, I found myself wondering:

• Is there really something wrong with wanting to document some of your most amazing memories so you can reawaken those same feelings years down the road?
• Couldn't the man both spend some time documenting his vacation and being present in it?
• What if he was recording for a loved one who couldn't join but wanted to experience it vicariously?
• What if he was suffering from memory loss and wanted to make sure this memory was preserved in some other, more concrete way than his own brain could muster?

When I first read this poem nearly a decade ago, I agreed wholeheartedly with Berry. I silently tsk-tsked all those mindless vacationers and basked in the temporary glow of moral superiority.

But now I’m a lot older and maybe a bit wiser (or more cynical…). I no longer think it's as simple as "If you're recording video during a vacation, you're failing in some way."

The Power of Reconnecting with Writing You’ve Read in the Past

Honestly, I never thought I would find myself disagreeing with Wendell Berry. Which is why I'm so glad this poem found its way back to me — because it showed me something new and unexpected about myself.

This is the power of revisiting writing that you’ve encountered in the past:

• It illuminates the ways in which your thinking has evolved over time
• It inspires you to think critically as you compare present and past experiences with a text
• It prompts reflection on your growth as a person, a writer, and a reader
• It reminds you that your identity as a writer and a person isn’t fixed. It’s always changing, and it’s important to acknowledge and make space for evolution

I’ve found that fresh encounters with writing can also take some pressure off. For instance:

I started David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest in high school but never finished it. I then proceeded to spend about 15 years feeling like I “should” be reading Infinite Jest. I finally picked it up again at the end of last year, and I discovered that I... simply wasn’t into it.

While I appreciate DFW’s intellectual prowess and writing talent, the work felt too misogynistic and homophobic to be palatable to the modern-day version of me. It’s also really freaking verbose!

This fresh encounter with a work that I’d connected with previously helped me to know that I’m simply not that into Infinite Jest. Phew! Fifteen years of pressure have now lifted off my shoulders.

Imagine if I’d chosen not to revisit that work — I’d still be losing energy to the idea that I must finish reading that book.

Others’ Work — And Your Own?

I find that the benefits of reconnecting with old writing hold true both when it comes to revisiting other writers’ work and when it comes to revisiting your own.

Whether in the form of old journal entries, fictional short stories, or any other kind of writing, looking back on our own work tells us a lot about how we’ve evolved.

That said, I think we can all agree that re-reading old writing can be a cringe-inducing activity. That’s why a lot of writers choose not to do it. (Some people also embrace a “never look back!” mentality, which is totally valid.)

Personally, I think there’s value in rereading your old work. Again, it illuminates how you’ve grown and evolved. It can also spark new ideas. On more than one occasion, I’ve reread old essays that fell flat while I was first writing them, only to discover that the experiences I’ve had in the meantime can breathe new life into older work.

Sometimes, old writing isn’t meant to turn into anything other than a rough draft. Other times, it waits around for you for years — like a long-lost lover sitting in their living room rocking chair, hoping with all their might that you’ll walk back through the front door.

You might open that door and discover the spark is gone, in which case you can bid a fond farewell to each other and finally get some closure. But sometimes, you’ll find newfound chemistry that can ignite a great piece of writing. All it takes is the willingness to (re)open the door.

Have you been surprised by a second encounter with your own or another writer’s work? I’d love to hear about your experiences in the comments below!