Start Writing Fiction | Week 3
Note: this is an assignment I submitted for the online course, linked above. Read the feedback HERE.
Most classmates don’t know I exist, which is ok with me. I try to sit in the back of the classroom, so I can doodle or write poetry in a notebook that’s secretly covered up with my textbook. As a high school freshman, most of my classes are a lot of work and I don’t do homework for anything but English. I have a pain that fills the pit of my stomach just thinking about school, so I reach for an empty notebook on the bottom of my bedroom bookshelf.
As I peel open the cover of the notebook, a photograph falls out. I pick it up off the floor and my eyes are instantly teary when I see Grandma and Grandpa posing on either side of me—all dressed in our Easter best and I’m in a super poofy dress. It looks like I’m two years old in the photo, so I have no real memory of this time but I was with Grandma and Grandpa.
I have very little memory of them, but it feels like there is a hole in my life because they are not in it. Watching my mom’s life get turned upside-down when Grandma and Grandpa both tragically died in a car accident, is what my innocent five year old memory has been replaced with. Mom stopped going to college, she started drinking more, and she started dating a lot of different men.
I had a lot of alone time in my room, and when I was old enough to put words on paper I would scribble in my notebooks until bedtime. The stories that Grandma told me about her vacations around the world with Grandpa are the memories I tried to write about, and I would make stories about vacations around the world with imaginary friends—including Grandma and Grandpa.
I held the picture up, and looked at it with no thought in mind except—this needs to be out so I can see it more. So I placed it on my vanity mirror. I don’t think you’ll see me in a poofy dress anytime soon—I’ll stick to my comfy black sweatshirt and jeans.
Jenni Laplow 
I love it! I think you are off to a great start.
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