Memoir Ideas

Childhood, Adolescent, and Coming of Age Memoirs

- When I was younger I went to summer camp for a month every summer. The camp atmosphere allowed me to try new things and aquire new tastes, and even have my first kiss. I learned how to be my own person, and I created a sense of self that has allowed me to be successful in life.

Life Experience Memoirs

- Freshman year I was hit in the face with a water polo ball. I had to have reconstructive surgery on my nose. I continued to play the same position, even with the continued risk of re-injuring my nose.

Relationships

- My best friend moved to Florida. I had to learn how to deal with a long term relationship, and decide whether it was worth my time and effort to keep that relationship strong.

Cultural/Ethnic/Sexuality Memoirs

- I was homeschooled until I was 10. I didn't watch TV, or do formal schooling. Most of my time was spent running around in fields and going to museums and playing with my dog. I had to learn how to be successful in public schools after coming from this background.

Food Memoirs

- I went to Italy a few summers ago. My grandparents and I went on a quest to find the best gelato in northern Italy that we could.

Travel Memoirs

- I lived in Michigan my whole life, so when my grandparents asked me where I'd most like to go in the entire world, I chose India. India seemed the most different than my normal life.

Survivor Memoirs

- Freshman year I was hit in the face with a water polo ball. I had to have reconstructive surgery on my nose. I continued to play the same position, even with the continued risk of re-injuring my nose.

 Addiction and Compulsion Memoirs

- My fathers parents both were chain smokers when he was growing up. His father had multiple heart attacks and his mother had a collapsed lung and breast and lung cancer. 

Emotion Memoirs

- I was always happy at summer camp. I was literally never sad. The months I spent at summer camp were the best months of my life.

Spirituality Memoirs

- At summer camp, there were activities where we drank tea and sat by Lake Michigan and wrote poetry, or sang songs, or just sat and thought. These things helped me find my definition of spirituality.

Writing Starter 14

Consider Ernest Hemingway’s six-word story that we talked about in class: For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.Turn Hemingway’s story into a piece of flash fiction, 150 words or less.

“For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.” I saw this ad in the newspaper on Saturday morning. 

“This must be a sign,” I thought. I had been debating whether or not to continue my unexpected pregnancy. I was 19, and in my second year of college. Having this baby would make finishing my degree infinitely more difficult. However, this seemed to be a sign from the universe. Maybe now was the time for me to become a mother. 

I cut out the ad and posted it on my fridge. I figured I’d come back to it later, and see how I felt about the whole situation. I pulled out some ice cream and sat down on the couch. Suddenly I was overcome by an intense pain in my abdomen. I called my best friend, who drove me to the hospital, where I was informed that my pregnancy had ended prematurely. 

Writing Starter 13

Write about someone in your family who is memorable for some reason. Maybe start this remembrance with “When I was born … ” or “I’ll never forget …”

My grandmother has been smoking since my father can remember. She smokes packs and packs of cigarettes a day. Possibly because of this, she has had collapsed lungs, breast cancer, lung cancer, and she has beat them all. This raises the question for me: is she strong, or is she weak? She is strong because she has beat cancer twice, something many people never do. Yet, she is extremely weak because she had cancer and yet refused to stop smoking. The power the cigarettes have over her mind is so intense that even a life threatening, hurtful disease. I've wrestled with this question for much of my life, and therefore she is memorable to me.

Writing Starter 12

•cell phone, stapler, angry bird, baseball

I was watching the baseball game, while playing angry birds on my cell phone. Suddenly, Joan runs in the room with a stapler. "Its attacking me!!" she says. Joan is kind of crazy.

Flash Fiction

My prompt was: The story is about a salesperson who is obsessed with a plumber. It starts in a dimensional warp. The story begins with a kidnapping.

My 150 word story is:

“Help!” screamed the plumber, as Janice, a creepy door-to-door saleswoman, dragged him into the back room at Meijer.

“What are you doing?” he questioned. 

“Shhhh” hushed Janice. “Be quiet. You will see.”

Janice slammed the door shut behind them. Suddenly, the room began to vibrate as air waves began to unveil a circular dimensional warp. “Go,” whispered Janice.

The plumber didn’t know what to do, but before he had a chance to act, Janice shoved him into the mystical hole. His world turned upside-down as psychedelic colors took over his senses; suddenly he was ejected from the warp. He had unknowingly entered the only place in the world where unicorns still existed.

“Holy crap, a unicorn!” he exclaimed. He quickly learned how to tame unicorns, and brought his new pet, Nathaniel, back through the warp. And that is how the richest man on earth made his fortune.

Short Story Final

“With my last breath, I’ll exhale my love for you. I hope it’s a cold day, so you can see what you meant to me.
”  - Dark Jar Tin Zoo

My phone buzzed. “Annabelle, I’m here”

“Coming!” I responded.

I threw on a pair of dark jeans and my new pink shirt. Tonight was friday night and, as usual, my best friend Madison and I were going out. (Madison was a full five inches taller than me, but that was the only difference; we both had brown hair and green eyes, and were often mistaken for sisters. We had been best friends since our parents introduced us in pre-school.) Dylan, another senior at Pineview High School, was throwing a party. Dylan’s parties were known for being full of good music and good times, the September weather was electric, and I had a fire-escape ladder attached to my window, which made it perfect for sneaking out of. Nothing could go wrong tonight.

I grabbed my bag and hopped out the window. Madison was waiting in her black Honda Civic (a gift from her parents on her 16th birthday). I hopped in, and we quietly drove out of my neighborhood, and into this night of possibility.

When we got to Dylan’s house, there were already so many cars that we had to park a few blocks away and walk. We walked inside and were greeted by a sea of people, and house-shaking music. Obviously this party had been well advertised.

“Help me find Charlie,” I said (more accurately screamed) to Madison. Charlie was my boyfriend of almost two years. We had met in math class sophomore year, and bonded over our love of Sufjan Stevens, our hatred of whipped cream, and the fact that we both played soccer.

Madison and I pushed our way through the sea of people, half of whom didn’t even look like they were in high school, in an attempt to find Charlie. We finally found him by the pool in the backyard, talking to some of his friends from soccer. We made eye contact.

“Annabelle!” he shouted, and ran toward me. His blonde hair bounced as he ran, which I thought was absolutely adorable. He gave me a kiss, and said, “Hi,” to Madison, but Madison had just located her good friend (and secret crush) Jeff. I nudged her, and said, “Go see him!”

Charlie and I left Madison and headed inside to get some drinks. We pushed our way into the house and through the crowd, until we finally made it to the kitchen. We decided to go upstairs and see what was happening up there. We again went through the process of pushing through this sea of people, and up the stairs. I saw Kerry and John, a couple known for their rocky three-year-long relationship, fighting on the stairs, so I grabbed Charlie’s hand to make sure I wouldn’t lose him. We made it up the stairs and into Dylan’s game room, which was just as packed as the rest of the house. There was techno music and flashing lights set up in this room; obviously Dylan had intended this room to be a makeshift dance club. I started to feel really claustrophobic, the sweaty bodies bumping into me made me feel dirty and light-headed.

“I need air,” I told Charlie. He took my hand and lead my into the bathroom, and shut the door.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. I didn’t even get a chance to answer before we heard a loud bump on the other side of the door. I jumped, and he protectively put his arms around me. We stood silently for a moment, waiting for another indication that something was wrong. The music continued to play on the other side of the door, and as the seconds past with no other disturbances, we promptly forgot all about it. “Nothing, I just would rather spend some time with you than this crowd of people I don’t know,” I told him.

We sat on the floor facing each other, and let ourselves wind down from the stimulation of this party. “Hey look, a 17 Magazine!” I pulled the magazine out from the stack of papers in this bathroom. “Let’s do some of the quizzes!”

Charlie laughed but agreed. “Okay, should we do “Are You Flirtatious or Shy?” or should we do “Which Lipstick Fits Your Personality?”

Suddenly, the music shut off, and was replaced with “FIRE!!!!!!!!!” “GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!” “GO GO GO!!!” Simultaneously, the smell of burning reached me.

“We need to get out of here!” Charlie said, and stood up. He reached for the doorknob, and turned, and pushed, but the door wouldn’t open more than a few centimeters. He tried again. No luck. “Something is in front of the door,” we said at the same time. I tried to help him push, and we kept pushing the door and screaming for help and trying to open the door and trying to get someone to help us, and it finally dawned on us that there were no longer any voices outside the door. Everyone else had left.

We were trapped.

It’s crazy how quickly everything seemed to be happening. There was a visible level of smoke in the bathroom now, so the fire must have been big and been close to our part of the house. “What do we do?!?” I asked Charlie. The look on his face told me he had run out of ideas. We couldn’t break down the door, there were no windows, and we really were trapped. Smoke poured into the room like liquid.

“I love you, Annabelle,” Charlie whispered. I tried to respond, but the smoke caught in my throat and I just ended up coughing. We sat down on the floor together, finally accepting that we could do nothing but hope and wait for help. Charlie took off his shirt and we wet it and put it over our faces, hopefully to block out the smoke.

“I love you, Charlie. We’re gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay. I love you.”  I was so, so, tired. “I’m just gonna take a little nap, okay? Wake me up when the fire is gone. I love you,” I mumbled the last words, knowing that I needed more than anything to get them out there, but the smoke made me so tired and it was so hard to breathe. My eyelids closed, and I felt Charlie’s arms around me, and I drifted off to sleep.

Writing Starter 11

Freshman year, I was hit in the face with a water polo ball and my nose was broken (visibly it was crooked to one side.) I had to have a nose-job in which they moved my nose back to the normal position. It was a painful procedure and I missed a full week of school due to the pain. We realized through this procedure that I am virtually immune to common pain killers such as morphine and vicodin. Suffering through this seems like it has all bad sides. However, this incident actually made me a better goalie. All goalies are really weird people, if you haven't noticed before, and this incident made me able to figure out my weird thing that gets me in the zone.  If I am having a bad game, I purposely get my face hit by a ball. It trigers an adrenaline reaction in me which helps sharpen my reflexes and lessen my natural tendency to shy away from things flying at my face. Because I've been through this procedure, I know that if I have to do it again I can live through it. Therefore, I'm less afraid of being hit with a ball.

Writing Starter #10

Look up the ingredients in your favorite cereal and write a brief story using these ingredients.

I woke up on friday, and decided it was time to shake things up in my life. I picked up some Honey Nut Cheerios (usually I ate normal Cheerios, so I was trying something new). I filled my bowl with this new, exciting meal. I idly read the back of the box... "Whole Grain Oats, Sugar, Modified Corn Starch, Honey, Brown Sugar Syrup, Salt, Tripotassium Phosphate." Oh no! I was allergic to Tripotassium Phosphate!!!! It was a good thing I read the ingredients, or I could've had some awful reactions. I put away the Honey Nut Cheerios, and ate my normal breakfast of normal Cheerios. Sometimes, change isn't as good as you think it will be.

Writing Starter 9

“That Thursday morning had been going so well until I found the neighborhood handyman dead on my workroom floor.”

Monologue ending: Now that justice had been served, I went back to my daily life, and was able to live without fear once again.

Showing v. Telling

The black dog was terrified of strangers, especially those who wore hats.

Lily was a black lap mix, with little bits of white on the tips of her paws, and underneath her chin. She was a cute dog, who enjoyed snuggling, and the second I saw her I knew she was the puppy for me. I took her home from the humane society, and proceeded to take her on a walk. We were trotting along, when all of a sudden my neighbor Carl came walking down his driveway. Lily made a shrieking (yes, shrieking) noise, and cowered behind me. 

The old teacher spent most of his days yelling at his class.

Mr. C reminded me of Santa. He was large, had a white beard. However, he was absolutely not Jolly. Yesterday, when Billy's phone accidentally went off during class, Mr. C had turned pink in the face, and threw a box of Kleenex at him. Mr. C screamed at us for 20 minutes about respect and, once he had stopped screaming, pronounced that he was refusing to teach us the rest of the day. Everyone knew better than to complain, and we went about tentatively (and silently) reading our textbooks. 

The female police officer hated her job and took it out on those around her.

Olivia sulked on her way to work. "Why did my stupid father make me become a police officer?" She mused. She hated the outfit, the long hours, and her stupid, stupid co-workers. She got to the station, parked in the parking lot, and went into the building. Olivia hadn't smiled in four days. She accidentally knocked over a pile of papers on Elliott's desk, and smirked because that made more work for him. "That'll show him," she said to herself. She proceeded to sit down at her desk and watch youtube videos of cats until lunch.

Short Story 2nd Draft

“With my last breath, I’ll exhale my love for you. I hope it’s a cold day, so you can see what you meant to me.
”  - Dark Jar Tin Zoo

My phone buzzed. “Annabelle, I’m here”

“Coming!” I responded.

I threw on a pair of dark jeans and my new pink shirt. Tonight was friday night and, as usual, my best friend Madison and I were going out. Dylan, another senior at Pineview High School, was throwing a party. Dylan’s parties were known for being full of good music and good times, the September weather was perfect, and I had a window perfect for sneaking out of. Nothing could go wrong tonight.

I grabbed my bag and hopped out the window. Madison was waiting in her black Honda Civic (a gift from her parents on her 16th birthday). I hopped in, and we quietly drove out of my neighborhood, and into this night of possibility.

When we got to Dylan’s house, there were already so many cars that we had to park a few blocks away and walk. We walked inside and were greeted by a sea of people, and house-shaking music. Obviously this party had been well advertised. I looked at Madison and said (more accurately screamed) “help me find Charlie.” Charlie was my boyfriend of almost two years. We had met in math class sophomore year, and bonded over our love of Sufjan Stevens, our hatred of whipped cream, and the fact that we both played soccer.

Madison and I pushed our way through the sea of people, half of whom didn’t even look like they were in high school, in an attempt to find Charlie. We finally found him by the pool in the backyard, talking to some of his friends from soccer. We made eye contact. “Annabelle!” he shouted, and ran toward me. His blonde hair bounced as he ran, which I thought was absolutely adorable. He gave me a kiss, and then said “hi” to Madison, but Madison had just located her good friend (and secret crush) Jeff. I nudged her, and said “go see him!”

Charlie and I left Madison and headed inside to get some drinks. We pushed our way into the house and through the crowd, until we finally made it to the kitchen. We decided to go upstairs and see what was happening up there. We again went through the process of pushing through this sea of people, and up the stairs. I saw Kerry and John, a couple known for their rocky three-year-long relationship, fighting on the stairs, so I grabbed Charlie’s hand to make sure I wouldn’t lose him. We made it up the stairs and into Dylan’s game room, which was just as packed as the rest of the house. There was techno music and flashing lights set up in this room; obviously Dylan had intended this room to be a makeshift dance club. I started to feel really claustrophobic, the sweaty bodies bumping into me made me feel dirty and light-headed.

“I need air,” I told Charlie. He took my hand and lead my into the bathroom, and shut the door.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. I didn’t even get a chance to answer before we heard a loud bump on the other side of the door. I jumped, and he protectively put his arms around me. We stood silently for a moment, waiting for another indication that something was wrong. The music continued to play on the other side of the door, and as the seconds past with no other disturbances, we promptly forgot all about it. “Nothing, I just would rather spend some time with you than this crowd of people I don’t know,” I told him.

We sat on the floor facing each other, and let ourselves wind down from the stimulation of this party. “Hey look, a 17 Magazine!” I pulled the magazine out from the stack of papers in this bathroom. “Let’s do some of the quizzes!”

Charlie laughed but agreed. “Okay, should we do “Are You Flirtatious or Shy?” or should we do “Which Lipstick Fits Your Personality?”

Suddenly, the music shut off, and was replaced with “FIRE!!!!!!!!!” “GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!” “GO GO GO!!!” Simultaneously, the smell of burning reached me.

“We need to get out of here!” Charlie said, and stood up. He reached for the doorknob, and turned, and pushed, but the door wouldn’t open more than a few centimeters. He tried again. No movement. “Something is in front of the door,” we said at the same time. I tried to help him push, and we kept pushing the door and screaming for help and trying to open the door and trying to get someone to help us, and it finally dawned on us that there were no longer any voices outside the door. Everyone else had left.

We were trapped.

It’s crazy how quickly everything seemed to be happening. There was a visible level of smoke in the bathroom now, so the fire must have been big and been close to our part of the house. “What do we do?!?” I asked Charlie. The look on his face told me he had run out of ideas. We couldn’t break down the door, there were no windows, and we really were trapped. Smoke poured into the room like liquid.

“I love you, Annabelle,” Charlie whispered. I tried to respond, but the smoke caught in my throat and I just ended up coughing. We sat down on the floor together, finally accepting that we could do nothing but hope and wait for help. Charlie took off his shirt and we wet it and put it over our faces, hopefully to block out the smoke.

“I love you, Charlie. We’re gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay. I love you.” I was so, so, tired. “I’m just gonna take a little nap, okay? Wake me up when the fire is gone. I love you” I mumbled the last words, knowing that I needed more than anything to get them out there, but the smoke made me so tired and it was so hard to breathe. My eyelids closed, and I felt Charlie’s arms around me, and I drifted off to sleep.

Writing Starter 8

“Study hard what interests you most in the most undisciplined, irreverent and original manner possible.”

Consider this quote by Richard Feynmann. What in your life interests you the most? How are you pursuing that passion? What things are getting in the way of you pursuing that passion? How does a high school education help or hinder your pursuit of your passion?

I'd say that at this point in my life, sleeping is what interests me the most. Not only do I really enjoy sleeping (which I really, really do) but I also am interested in dreams and how the whole thing works. Like, how are we able to be unconscious and yet thinking about things at the same time? Also, recently I consciously discovered that when I think, I think by seeing myself talking or doing whatever I'm thinking about. If I'm thinking about how I really want a sandwich when I get home, I see myself saying "Man, I really want a sandwich.." I don't know. But anyway, dreaming is cool. Sleeping is fun. High school does not have a "sleeping" class, so I'd say high school isn't helping me pursue my passions. Dangit, high school. Get on that. 

Writing Starter 7

“Life would be so much easier if I were a cartoon character.”

I think it depends what cartoon character I was. Am I still myself, but drawn? Am I suddenly hilarious like Bugs Bunny? It might be nice because I wouldn't have to make my own decisions, and everything bag in my life would end up wrapping up in a funny or interesting way. But I don't know if my life is interesting enough for other people to want to watch it. All I do is go to school, go home, and sleep. No one wants to watch a cartoon about a 4.0 student taking multiple AP and IB classes... So my cartoon would be pretty bland. Maybe I could have cool colored hair. I think it would be easier to be a cartoon character because I'd have someone taking care of the plot, but harder because I wouldn't have any say in what happened to me. 

Short Story RD

My phone buzzed. “Annabelle, I’m here”

“Coming!” I responded.

I threw on a pair of dark jeans and my new pink shirt. Tonight was friday night and, as usual, my best friend Madison and I were going out. Dylan, another senior at Pineview High School, was throwing a party. Dylan’s parties were known for being full of good music and good times, the September weather was perfect, and I had a window perfect for sneaking out of. Nothing could go wrong tonight.

I grabbed my bag and hopped out the window. Madison was waiting in her black Honda Civic (a gift from her parents on her 16th birthday). I hopped in, and we quietly drove out of my neighborhood, and into this night of possibility.

When we got to Dylan’s house, there were already so many cars that we had to park a few blocks away and walk. We walked inside and were greeted by a sea of people, and house-shaking music. Obviously this party had been well advertised. I looked at Madison and said (more accurately screamed) “help me find Charlie.” Charlie was my boyfriend of almost two years. We had met in math class sophomore year, and bonded over our love of Sufjan Stevens, our hatred of whipped cream, and the fact that we both played soccer.

Madison and I pushed our way through the sea of people, half of whom didn’t even look like they were in high school, in an attempt to find Charlie. We finally found him by the pool in the backyard, talking to some of his friends from soccer. We made eye contact. “Annabelle!” he shouted, and ran toward me. His blonde hair bounced as he ran, which I thought was absolutely adorable. He gave me a kiss, and then said “hi” to Madison, but Madison had just located her good friend (and secret crush) Jeff. I nudged her, and said “go see him!”

Charlie and I left Madison and headed inside to get some drinks. We pushed our way into the house and through the crowd, until we finally made it to the kitchen. We decided to go upstairs and see what was happening up there. We again went through the process of pushing through this sea of people, and up the stairs. I saw Kerry and John, a couple known for their rocky three-year-long relationship fighting on the stairs, so I grabbed Charlie’s hand to make sure I wouldn’t lose him. We made it up the stairs and into Dylan’s game room, which was, like the rest of the house, packed. There was different music playing in this room, and flashing lights; this was the dance room. All of a sudden I started to feel really claustrophobic, the sweaty bodies bumping into me made me feel dirty and light-headed.

“I need air,” I told Charlie. He took my hand and lead my into the bathroom, and shut the door.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. I didn’t even get a chance to answer before we heard a loud bump on the door. I jumped, and he protectively put his arms around me. Nothing else happened, other than the continuous din of the music and movement outside. “Nothing, I just would rather spend some time with you than this crowd of people I don’t know,” I told him.

We sat on the floor facing each other, and let ourselves wind down from the stimulation of this party. “Hey look, a 17 Magazine!” I pulled the magazine out from the stack of papers in this bathroom. “Let’s do some of the quizzes!” Charlie laughed but agreed. “Okay, should we do “Are You Flirtatious or Shy?” or should we do “Which Lipstick Fits Your Personality?”

Suddenly, the music shut off, and was replaced with “FIRE!!!!!!!!!” “GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!” “GO GO GO!!!” Simultaneously, the smell of burning reached me.

“We need to get out of here!” Charlie said, and stood up. He reached for the doorknob, and turned, and pushed, but the door wouldn’t open more than a few centimeters. He tried again. No movement. “Something is in front of the door,” we said at the same time. I tried to help him push, and we kept pushing the door and screaming for help and trying to open the door and trying to get someone to help us, and it finally dawned on us that there were no longer any voices outside the door. Everyone else had left.

We were trapped.

It’s crazy how quickly everything seemed to be happening. There was a visible level of smoke in the bathroom now, so the fire must have been big and been close to our part of the house. “What do we do?!?” I asked Charlie. The look on his face told me he had run out of ideas. We couldn’t break down the door, there were no windows, and we really were trapped. Smoke poured into the room like liquid.

“I love you, Annabelle,” Charlie whispered. I tried to respond, but the smoke caught in my throat and I just ended up coughing. We sat down on the floor together, finally accepting that we could do nothing but hope and wait for help. Charlie took off his shirt and we wet it and put it over our faces, hopefully to block out the smoke.

“I love you, Charlie. We’re gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay. I love you.” I was so, so, tired. “I’m just gonna take a little nap, okay? Wake me up when the fire is gone. I love you” I mumbled the last words, knowing that I needed more than anything to get them out there, but I was so tired and it was so hard to breathe. My eyelids closed, and I felt Charlie next to me, and I drifted off.

Writing Starter 6

Jane, Paul, and Mrs. Fisk

Mrs. Fisk: What's going on here?

Jane: Nothing

Paul: Nothing

Mrs. Fisk: Obviously something was going on. You don't need to explain it to me, but it needs to stop. You're distracting others and making them uncomfortable.

Jane: Sorry

Paul: Maybe if Jane wasn't so oversensitive this wouldn't be happening.

Jane: Oh I'M oversensitive? 

Paul: Uh, yeah...

Jane: Wow, then why do you hang out with me?

Mrs. Fisk: Maybe we should take this down to the counseling office...

Jane: NO! Answer me, Paul. Why do you spend time with me if I'm so "annoying"

Paul: I didn't say you were annoying

Jane: Yeah, but you thought it.

Paul: See this is what I mean by oversensitive

Mrs. Fisk: Alright. Let's go. Counseling office, now. You're taking up class time.

Jane: *cries* I don't want to go anywhere with him!

Paul: Screw this, I'm missing math. I'm going to class.

*THE END*

Writing Starter 5

I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.

You looked at me.

I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.

You spoke to me.

I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.

You touched my hand.

I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.

You turned away.

I did try to explain, but I couldn’t.

You left.

I never got to explain.

Writing Starter 4

1. Stasis: Joan was a normal, healthy teenager. She went to school, did her homework, and had friends. She had just gotten her license yesterday.
2. Trigger: When she went to drive to school on Monday morning, she didn't see the semi-truck that T-boned her car. Her car went spinning and crashed into a telephone pole. Joan's legs were trapped by her car, and she passed out.
3. The quest: Joan had to learn how to use her legs all over again. She had to learn how to walk, run, jump and dance as if she had never known. She was extremely frustrated. 
4. Surprise: One day while practicing her walking, a group of boys from Joan's school passed her in their car. They laughed at her because she walked funny. Joan wanted to run home but she couldn't, because she didn't yet know how to run. 
5. Critical choice: Joan decided not to let the boys hurt her feelings. It wasn't her fault that the truck hit her. She kept on walking and ignored the boys.
6. Climax: The boys kept taunting her, and since they weren't watching the road, they accidentally drove straight into a mailbox. Joan knew this was karma and was thankful she didn't let these idiots get her down.
7. Reversal: Now the driver of the car had to pay to fix his car, and to fix the mailbox. Joan, however, just kept on walking. Finally she was able to run, and eventually jump.
8. Resolution: Joan learned that making fun of others never gets you where you want to go. Today she can use her legs just like she could before her accident, but she is always extremely careful around trucks.

the end.

Writing Starter 3

Annabelle, high school junior, 15, brown hair, green eyes

1. What has been the best thing to happen to this person? Went to Disney World when she was 7

2. Is there a love interest in their life? If so, who. Describe this person. Yes, Charlie, high school junior, 16, blonde hair, gray eyes, met in Math class.

3. What is this character’s political affiliation? Liberal? Conservative? Libertarian? Who will they vote for in the coming election and why? Annabelle is too young to vote and doesn't really have strong political views.

4. Kurt Vonnegut says every character in a story should want something, even if it’s just a glass of water. What does this character want? Why? To beat her brain cancer!!

Character Sketches

(1st NARRATOR) Character: Annabelle, high school junior, 15, brown hair, green eyes

Bad Things:  Fish Dies. Diagnosed with Brain Cancer. Dies.

(2nd NARRATOR) Character: Charlie, high school junior, 16, blonde hair, gray eyes, Annabelle's boyfriend

Bad Things: Girlfriend Diagnosed with brain cancer. Girlfriend dies. Gives up on school because he is so sad and then realizes that Annabelle would've wanted him to go to college. Has to write really good college essays to explain his awful grades.

Character: Macy, 6th grade, 11, Annabelle's younger sister

Bad Things: Sister diagnosed with brain cancer. Sister dies. (Charlie and Macy get close)

Character: Annabelle's Dad

Bad Things: Daughter gets brain cancer. Kills self because hes so upset.

Character: Madison, Annabelle's best friend, high school junior, 15

Bad Things: Friend diagnosed with brain cancer. Friend dies. Fails all her classes, still needs to apply to Duke. 

Writing Starter 2

You’re digging in your backyard when all of sudden you hit something. You can’t tell what it is so you thrust the shovel into the dirt one more time. It is a dead body. Oh no! What to do what to what to do? You finally figure it's best to call the cops. You dial 911 even though you're worried that they may suspect you for murdering this guy. The cops show up and they set up all their equipment and begin examining the body. You listen to the medical examiner on the other side of the police tape. Apparently this person died roughly 20 years ago (thankfully, since you are only nineteen-and-a-half, you can't be considered for the murder suspect! Yay! Since that is all taken care of, you call your friend Mike and say, "hey mike, wanna hang out?" Mike doesn't wanna hang out, Mike is hanging out with his girlfriend today. So you call your friend Barack and ask him what he's doing. Barack does want to hang out! So you go to the mall like the two manly dudes you are and you buy some smoothies and check out girls. Eventually you get bored, so you go home and watch Spongebob until 11:00 pm. Then you go to bed. The End.

Writing Starter 1

My favorite work of art is "The Predatory Wasp Of The Palisades Is Out To Get Us!" by Sufjan Stevens. While Stevens' entire album Come On Feel The Illinoise is incredibly genius, The Predatory Wasp is easily my favorite. The song is basically an ode to Stevens' experience at summer camp as a child. Stevens' tells a story about his friend and this giant wasp in a letter he writes to his parents. The song then turns inwards. I love this song because it feels like a giant roller coaster of emotions. The song makes me feel tired, ecstatic, sad, happy, scared and excited all at once. The way Stevens' blends the instrumental melody with his crooning voice just triggers some emotional responses that don't make sense. The song is an experience, not just a song. I love the entire album, and I almost wrote this about Casimir Pulaski Day which in my opinion is probably a more emotional song (about lovers and how they deal with the terminal illness of the female) and more poetically written, yet Casimir Pulaski Day is so plain that it doesn't have the highs and lows of The Predatory Wasp that make this song my favorite work of art.