“But my heart is always propped up in a field on its tripod ready for the next arrow.” — Billy Collins, “Aimless Love” Aimless Love, An Exercise I’ve borrowed this writing prompt from brilliant author Cate DiCamillo, who was inspired to create this writing exercise based on the Billy Collins poem. I find it a shining portal to imagining. My answers are below, but if you’d like to play along, here’s how it goes: Imagine your heart as a target in a field. Begin by describing the field. Describe the tripod. Describe your heart. Name the arrows. Describe the sound the […]
Image source. We went down the lane, by the body of the man in black, sodden now from the overnight hail, and broke into the woods at the foot of the hill. We pushed through these towards the railway without meeting a soul. The woods across the line were but the scarred and blackened ruins of woods; for the most part the trees had fallen, but a certain proportion still stood, dismal grey stems, with dark brown foliage instead of green.
On the outside I looked normal, but my heart was jagged and bleeding, and my days were one long continuous sigh. It was Tori Amos I listened to in 1996 to ease the ache of a heartbreaking separation. She sang words written in my chest, under the disguise of normal: I go from day to day I know where the cupboards are I know where the car is parked I know he isn’t you. And here I am 16 years later sitting at a coffee shop cloaked in normal. Wake up. Take Izzy to the park. She reads the tree-mail […]