Lost Objects: A Writing Prompt

When I was in the fourth grade, my parents gave me a first baseman glove for my birthday. We lived in Oak Forest, Illinois, a southern suburb of Chicago. One of Chicagoland’s forest preserves, Yankee Woods, stretched out along the edge of the village, and that’s where my parents threw a party for me. My…

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Road as Metaphor: A New Writing Exercise

I just got home from the Vermont College of Fine Arts Postgraduate Writers’ Conference, and, like the past fourteen years I’ve taught there, it was a magical week. I really can’t recommend this conference enough. It’s made up of workshops, craft talks, readings, and loads of access to faculty members. One of my pleasures is…

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The Marks We Leave Behind: A Writing Exercise for Memoirists

After my father died, I found the marks he’d left: the wooden handles of tools, scraped and splintered from the pincers of his prosthetic hands—his hooks as he always called them; the clamped edges of pages in his Bible from where he’d held them. I can still recall him sitting at our dining table, working…

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