Fun Things To Write In Yearbooks Novels & Stories

Not reaching for other diaries or notebooks, i went straight for the year book i was here for. The senior batch of 2014 stared back at me from the front cover of the year book. I looked at myself. Eighteen year old Lucy Chaw wore the fakest smile i have ever seen and stood between old friends wearing the cheerleader outfit. The entire students of the batch stood behind the football players and the cheerleaders in the large gym room. I remembered we took this picture a week before prom and everyone was in the excitement spirit to finish call and get ready for the dance.

“Oh man. Yeah, you really missed out. In high school, I went to summer camp with my boy scout troop in Yosemite every year without fail. It was always my favorite part of the year.” “Well, there’s still time.” “I’d love to show you around my favorite parts of Yosemite.” “I’d like that a lot,” she said and I could tell she meant it. “So what did you do in high school then? Cheerleading?” “Ha! I can see why you’d think that, but no. I was extremely uncoordinated. Still am. I wrote a lot, though. I was on the high school newspaper and yearbook committee.” “Have you found time to write since moving up here?”

I'm about to withdraw when he grabs my hand, looks me in the eye and then slowly releases my hand, pushing his plate closer to me. God help me. "Well, knowing Mrs Irvine, she doesn't care much about the topic she dishes out but she wants to see how you present it to her. Your thoughts, your articulation, how you write–" An idea comes to my mind and I clap excitedly. "You should make a photo album instead." Bianca's brows furrow "A photo album" but when I look at Miguel, he understands where I'm going. "Instead of writing a long ass essay about the natural wonders, we could make a photo album and attach little notes to each photograph."

“Just taking in the sights. Where did all these people come from? What did they do, shut down every business in town?” He gave her an easy smile. “Close to it, I guess. Everybody has somebody, family or friend, connected to the high school. Homecoming parade’s a big deal around here.” “So I see.” She pulled a small digital camera from her shoulder bag. “I’m ready.” He frowned as if in deep thought. “You going to write a book about it?” She hadn’t thought to but the idea wasn’t half-bad. “An article, maybe. Does that bother you?”

Like somehow I just jumped into the future. My mind is screaming at me that something is wrong. Other than the year, and the plastic animals, I can't figure out what it is. I look through the yearbook and I find a picture of Derek in the senior section. He looked just as handsome back then. I flip through the yearbook some more, reading some of the messages left from his friends.

“This girl’s been planning Picture Day like it’s the Met Gala.” “You’re joking,” I said, eyebrows raised. “Do I look like I’m joking?” Deej demanded, pulling out her phone and showing me a notes app titled: “Slay Strategy – Yearbook Edition.” I blinked. “You’ve got an actual checklist?” “With bullet points,” she said proudly. “We’re not playing this year. This is our finals, remember?” Chris grinned. “Honestly? She’s been waiting for this since freshman year.” “I have,” Deej said dramatically. “And now that you’re playing hockey with Maxton freaking Carter, you have no choice but to look divine.”

Let’s gather petals from every whisper that’s ever dared to be heard. The second anniversary of the studio wasn’t planned with streamers. It unfolded gently, like the pages of a well-loved book, each moment a quiet celebration of creativity and connection. Visitors arrived with folded notes, old zines, sketches drawn on receipts and tucked in pockets, each item a testament to the studio’s role as a sanctuary for expression. Someone brought a typewriter and offered to write impromptu letters on the spot, capturing the essence of spontaneity and the beauty of words in their raw form.

All the little things I usually didn’t notice now felt like companions keeping me company. My thoughts drifted to tomorrow’s plans. Taking Noah to school, making sure his lunch wasn’t forgotten. Finding time to write a page or two no need for perfection, just honesty. Maybe brewing some afternoon tea and sitting by the window, rereading old notes. Simple things that made a day feel whole.

I barely hold back a grimace. That's right. I wasn't able to write, but apparently taking a week off wasn't vacation, no. It was a week off writing and into classifying photographies for the YearBook and organizing Snow Ball promotion. I looked at the papers Trish took out with doodles and notes as she proceeded to explain how she and the rest of the Student Council had decided to do the Ball's decoration. I mean, yeah, I usually like these kinda things, just like I offered to do the Halloween decorations at its time, but it was humiliating for a senior to be remoted from principal writer to this.

Chapter 21: I Wanted You Ava: “For the subject, I'd love for you all to write an essay. I want you to talk about a memorable event in your life, something you'd like to share with your friends and the whole class.” I arranged the pile of books on my table before glancing up at the faces of my students.