Homework Assignment Samples 

This piece came from a homework assignment from a story telling class .  The assignment was to go back into your journal and pull out a sentence or phrase that could be the start of a fiction story.  Kim chose “It feels good.”  I call this her “jump off” sentence.  Basically, the point at which she “jumps off” from her journal entry into a story.

What follows this “jump off” sentence is a fiction piece that reads like real life.

    It feels good biting into the soft, moist chocolate cake with the rich mocha filing deep inside.  Then washing it down with the ice cold glass of whole milk that is waiting by the edge of the place mat.
    The restaurant is busy today, people coming and going.  I listen to silverware scraping against the glass plates as people finish their lunch.  I sit in my usual booth, tucked away in the corner, nestled between the jukebox and waitress station.  I love looking out the window watching the world go by as I sit being comforted by whatever goes into my mouth.  Today it is the dessert special.  As I wipe the corners of my mouth with my napkin I feel inner warmth.  My stomach loves me, but my mind hates me.  And so the argument begins between them: “Delicious. That was the best chocolate cake of my life,” says my stomach.  “You need that like you need a hole in the head, you fatty.  In fact, a hole in your head might make some of the calories you just ate seep out!  You disgust me!” my brain yells back.  I stop listening, reach into my purse and then leave my money on the table.  I signal to Jennifer, my waitress, to let her know the money is there.  “Thanks Sheila.  See you tomorrow,” she shouts.  “You bet.”  I reply, as I begin the slow and steady slide out of the shinny red booth.  I must be careful so I don’t hit my thighs against the underneath part of the table.  I did that once, causing a deep cut into my thigh. The less attention I draw to myself the better.  So I carefully maneuver my 340 pound-ish body out of the booth and take my exit.  Opening the door to the diner, the bell with the green string attached to the door handle rings and my mind starts, “There it goes…ding-ding.  Fatty has left the diner everybody!  Watch her go…WADDLE-WADDLE out the door.”  The door closes behind me.  I walk over to my car, open the door, and plop my body into the seat.  I can imagine the car bracing itself for the crush of my weight.  I pay my mind no attention, turn the key and start on down the road toward home.  On the radio Celine Dion sings, I’m everything I am, because you love me.  I hum along and wish to myself how nice that must be.  “Oh well.”  I sigh.
Looking over at the clock on the dash board the time reads 3 o’clock.  Perfect, I think.  I put my left blinker on and turn into Dunkin Donuts.  “A large regular, chocolate chip cookie and a honey dipped donut.” I yell into the drive up speaker.  The girl at the window hands me my food.  “Thank you.”  I say.  She says nothing, just looks at me.  I see that look all the time.  The eyes stare at me- they devour over me the way I eat a spaghetti dinner.  What must they think?  I wonder.  My mind pipes in, “Fatty-what the hell do you think they are thinking.  They are thinking my God is she fat.  Why does she want to order more food?  Look at the size of her!  She can hardly fit behind the steering wheel!”  “But,” I argue back, “they look at me so deeply, then say nothing. My huge mass of a body and they act as if I’m not there.”  My mind retorts, “Fatty, look in the mirror.  They are embarrassed for you! They think you don’t care, so why should they!” 
    “Well, that’s wrong!” I say.  “I am there. I am a person, I have feelings.” 
    “Listen Fatty, I’m just telling you how I see it,” my mind says.  “People see you as a 340 plus pound, humungous, waste of space! You gross people out!”
    “Stop,” I whisper.  The tears burn my eyes and drop onto the corner of the half eaten donut that has been sitting on my lap.  I pull over into the next parking lot and put the car in park.  I cover my face in shame and sob.

By Kimberly Ward Storch


After writing this piece I asked my students to Write From The Throat   about the character they created.  This forces writers to delve into the heart and mind of a character and also helps the character develop.  Read below to find out more about “Sheila”.


I am Sheila’s stomach

I am abused

I am full

I am brutally honest

I am huge

I am Sheila’s friend

I am being neglected

I am honest

I am never hungry

I am protruding

I am jiggling

I am unhealthy

I am hoping for a change