Questions:
1. Have memoirs being told in the past tense?
2.Can a Narrative-Story being made of diary textes?

Summery:
To write a good narrative story, you have to give some specific and personel examples to show the reader how something happenend. To use lots of examples and describe details give the reader a clearer picture that will make him understanding and enjoing the story.


My own story:
Summervacation in Poland

• long ride = exhausted, tired, ennoyed
• see the hills, the ponds, the forest. Sunny, just a few people, old villages, dogs, everything slowly, green grass, birds, very warm weather, on the hill over the pond:  a village of a few houses with nice garden and colorful flowers. My Grandma and auther members of my family are there = so happy, like being home after a long time
• go for a walk with a cousin, talking, laughing, berfeet, enjoing the landskape, watching the sailing boats, lissening the bugs in the field= leaving daily life behind
• dinner with my family, everyone exited about the next days that we will have here, good food, nice music, sitting outside, talking, the adults drinking red wine, the kids have ice cream

Writing a dialog

“Mariah! Mariah!” Finally the girl in the skinny red pants and the jean-jacket turned around. She wrinkled her forehead, looking around for the person who called her name. Then she saw the boy who waved excitedly with a schoolbook in his hand. “Hey John,” She sounded surprised, “What’s up?”  John who stood right in front of her smiled mysteriously.  “Ooh… nothing special,” he answered, looking at Mariah, amused. “Oh, come on! Tell me why you have that revolting grin in your face and why you are running behind me and yelling at me like you’re crazy,“ Mariah demanded and boxed him friendly on his side. John looked around. Behind him was the school building, on the other side the tennis courts and a parking lot. School was out and the students were on their way home or in the cafeteria and library passing the time till the after-school activities started. The lot was deserted. “Well,” he began, lowering his voice. “Do you know what I was working on last fall?” Yes, Mariah remembered well. Usually she and John spent a lot of time together. They were not boyfriend and girlfriend, but neighbors and good friends. They used to hang out together, talking, helping each other with their homework. Last fall, that had changed. They were still friends, but John had better things to do than hanging out with her, Mariah remembered. He started spending a lot more time studying and doing homework and on weekends he had a few different jobs in Town. Mariah didn’t really have a problem with all these jobs; the point was, that John didn’t do it for money or because he enjoyed the work there. He did it to look like the perfect boy, the perfect son, the perfect High school student. In Mariah’s opinion, that was pathetic.  “I think, I know pretty well what you were working on.”  She retorted. John looked irritated. “You do?” He wondered. When Mariah didn’t answer he suddenly smiled. “And I thought I could have secrets without you knowing!” He laughed. Now it was Mariah who was confused. What game was he playing with her? John hugged Mariah: “I can go! I have the stipendium! They finally choose me!”  “Wow, that’s great John, Congratulations…” Mariah mumbled into Johns shoulder, still not sure what he was talking about. When John freed the embrace, she took a step back. “And… what are you doing with your stipendium now?” She asked, looking at her fingernails. “Well, next winter I will go to Europe. For one year. It’s a rotary program; Three month in England, then France, then Netherlands and finally Germany.” He made a break to see Mariah’s reaction, but couldn’t notice anything. John concluded: “I am so excited.”

Short Story

I knew I was too early, so I took a seat on a bench a few steps away from the cafe. I was sitting close to a young woman who watched her two children playing in the sand of a sheltered playground. She had deep rings beneath her eyes, hair pulled up into a simple ponytail with several strands falling across her face. She noticed me looking and smiled wanly, looking as though she had not slept in days. I watched as one of her children ran up to show her something clutched tightly in his hand, seeing her eyes sparking with joy and happiness.
The park was grey and wet, dilapidated looking, the cars rushing past breaking any peace there was to be found here; but the mother and her child seemed to be in their own isolated bubble, separate from the rest of the world.
I enjoyed my wanderings, seeking silent solitude apart from the laughter of children.
It was Tuesday and without any classes waiting for me at the university, I was taking this opportunity to meat Zack. I wanted to talk to him about everything and nothing, hear about his new life as a radio presenter. In my mind, I was already sitting next to him, drinking coffee and listening to his deep rolling voice; smiling happily.
Suddenly, I realized that the young women was watching me from the corner of her eye, curious as to my expression. I asked myself if this would be me in a couple of years, filled with the joy and love of my children, but nothing else.
Would I be happy?

Pulling away from my pensive thoughts, I stood up, said goodbye to the young woman, and set off in the direction of my meeting with Zack.
The moment I entered the cafe and saw Zack, I forgot all my doubts about future.
We ordered coffee and pancakes, talking and laughing. The world around us became smaller and less important, we got lost in each others eyes, laughter and voices.

Upon leaving the cafe, the cold bite of winter air brought us back to reality. We had only wandered a few paces down the street, when Zack turned to me.
"Julia, It's so long till next time I will able to see you... I will miss you. Have you ever thought about moving in with me? It would be still the same distance to your classes and my flat is big enough for the two of us." He looked into my face, eyes hopeful, "I just wanted you to know that there is another option." He concluded, smiling apprehensively.
"I will think about it," I promised, but knowing in this moment that something inside of me would resist this possible change completely. I was happy in my little room in town, and I was ok with seeing Zack once, twice or three times the week.
Later I realized, that it was my perfect little world I wanted to keep; afraid of loosing my youth and being forced to make decisions and choose my path in life.
I was afraid of the future.

I said my goodbyes to Zack, still somewhat surprised by my own emotions upon such a simple request.

Two month later I ended it with Zack.
I left that sleepy little town, traveled and studied in many fascinating places; attempting to find that happiness that I had known.I walk in a big circle around that small busy park, as I have since the day I received a invention to Zack's wedding, and later a Christmas card showing his family and new little daughter. Now, as I walk this path, I ponder how my life might have been different.

2-24-12

The whole house still slept, when we toughen us outwards. Shivering and somnolent we trudged above meadows wet from rope. The deep darkness and the whispering of the trees would have frightened me, wouldn't have been my grandfather, whose big, strongly, warm hand, hold mine. Every now and then, he pressed my hand,
then I looked to him and meant to be able to see the adventurous and good-natured flashes in his eyes through the darkness of the night. 

Usually, we arrived with the first sunrays in the footbridge. My grandfather had smeared on the evening before some sandwiches; now he got them from his backpack and put them on a small cover in his lap. Then he passed to me a  mug and poured hot tea from a thermos jug into it.
Mostly we had breakfast in silence; were lissening to the singing of the birds and the water among which hit rythmisch against the buoys. Besides, we observed entrancedly how the world round ourselves awoke slowly and came to life.