Memoirs - Course 4 - Week 4

 

As with the last, this is a two-part assignment. Think about a significant conversation that you’ve had in your life with someone (or multiple people) about an experience that was important to you. (The death of a loved one; the loss of a house key.) The first piece should be between 300 and 500 words or so, where you convey this conversation strictly through dialogue as if it was a script. You’re allowed to use names, and “he said” and “she said” in order to differentiate who is speaking, but no description and no narration is allowed. Context can come only through dialogue.

Then I want you to convey this same conversation and tell the same story through narration in a similar number of words, but this time you may not use more than 50 words of dialogue - that's about six lines. Again, it's the same conversation, but narrated, paraphrased or described. This final assignment should utilize elements of the first three assignments: character, detail, description, tension.

--------------------------------

You know what your problem is?" Angel asks his friend.

"That I'm fat?" Yves replies.

"No," Angel says, shaking his head.

"That I'm crazy, or I dream too big?" Yves asks with obvious discomfort.

"You became successful too young. You were 23 and already traveling to India, Brazil, Europe. You were busy doing good things. I don't know what they were, but I know it was too much for you, and now you feel lost because you're not traveling. You need to see to your kid and your wife. Your wife is constantly sick, and your kid requires a lot of time and energy."

Angel's wife interrupts, saying, "You have two options. Either you are grateful and enjoy your kid and your wife, or you go to the opposite side and be like your dad. Abandon them all and focus on making money. Work. Work a lot. Work all the time, but I ask you, what do you prefer?"

Yves adds, "I don't know."

Maggie adds to her comment, "Because I see my kids, and I'm amazed. I hug them, and I'm so happy to be next to them. I look at them, and I'm grateful. I used to be the workaholic mom, leaving the kids at nursery, school, or with grandparents, paying for nannies. But now that I'm with them, I take them to football practice, and we talk all afternoon. I wouldn't change this for anything."

"I think you're right. I should abandon my family and focus on making more money and getting results."

Yves was serious when he said this.

They were all drunk, and the conversation was happening past 3 AM. It shouldn't be taken so seriously.

Yves was talking during the night with their neighbors. They were all drinking. Yves talked about how difficult it is to decide between professional development and being a parent. Both have benefits and it seems like both do not match between them. Angel and Maggie a couple and friends of Yves talk to him about redemption and importance of family.

Memoirs - Course 4 - Week 3 - try 2

 

This is a two-part exercise, both 500 words. This is where you should focus solely on the beginning of the story, but do not necessarily concern yourself with the middle or the end.

Pick a dramatic event from your life, either big or small. (The death of a loved one, for instance, or the loss of your house key by the railroad tracks.) Now you’re going to write this same story twice. The first one will be where you withhold the information of what’s going to happen and simply begin the story with a descriptive scene that leads up to the dramatic event. The opening line should read something like, “One day I was walking home from school along the railroad tracks.” This should then be followed by all the sensory details that were covered from module 2. What was the weather like? Could you hear the sound of the train? You can include as much detail and scene as you like, but it is imperative that you at least get to the start of the “dramatic event” before the end of your 500 words, even if it’s in the final sentence.

Now I want you to write 500 words about the very same event, but here you will establish the tension immediately and tell the reader what is going to happen in the first line. “When I was twelve years old I lost my house key in the woods by the railroad tracks.” Since you’ve given that opening line, what context must follow in order to get the reader up to speed? Are your parents not at home? Are the railroad tracks far away? Write the first half of the piece with this sort of biographical information before you get back to the dramatic event. To put it another way: begin with staging the event, then cut away from the event, then return to it!

 

--------------

One day I decided that I could not take it anymore.

I felt tired. The type of pressure that feels above the shoulders. Like If someone was pressing me down and my head looking to the ground. It was around 3 AM in the morning. It was starting to feel cold on the nights due to the beginning of autumn. It was October. The bedroom in which I was it is next to the backyard. As an old Mexican house. The windows were very big. The bedroom had two windows. The small window has the size of a person and the second window was three times bigger on length. Al most the length of the wall. The second was very big. We normally leave the two bulbs providing light for the backyard. The light got inside through the windows.

The air conditioning was on and making a normal sound. I was on my bed just moving around unable to sleep. At that time of my life, I shared a bed with my grandma. Mother of my mother. The sound that I had in my ears was like the buzz of a bee. Due to the high volume of work that I had I always went to bed late but especially today with this terrible feeling on my body. I even went to sleep wearing jeans and a belt.  Grandma always sleeps with outfits of pants and long shirt sharing the color. She slept with her eyes looking at the roof.

I normally sleep with my mouth on the pillow, but this time. It did not matter the position. Head and back were making a pression over my body and especially over my soul. I do not know how or why, but I got into the same conclusion. I need to break up with Diana. I say it out loud: “I am going to break up with Diana”. Grandma was to my right. She was snoring and she suddenly woke up. In that split of a second, I imagine she was going to skull me for so many reasons. To damage a girl. To not be man enough and a bunch of terribles ideas that my mind generated during the split of a second between her snore and waking up.

I got a feeling on my neck anticipating the hit I was about to receive. She is going to give me a slap on my head. Her reply was still with her eyes closed but fully conscious. “It is okey son. If you are not happy. You should leave her”. Then she went back to sleep. I even though she was a sleep walker or sleep talker, the next morning she remembered everything and even talked with my mom.

Getting back to the moment grandma gave me emotional support. I felt how the tension on my shoulders, back, face, stomach and soul was just released. The guilt of being a bad man disappear with the approval of my grandmother. I immediately fell asleep.

 

 

 

One day I decided that I could not take it anymore. I need it to break up with Diana.

Life had been harsh. Emotionally harsh. Dad went away. Mom got crazy as hello. Tita die. Tita was mom of dad. Coco went away. She got pregnant and did not say goodbye.

In a couple of weeks everything was a mess. At the age of 10 everything was a mess. I always focused on my studies. Dad is living in another country. Mom is trying to get back her sanity. Tita dies and Coco just disappears.

My mother of my own mother, Grandma Carmen, went to live with us. She was one of those human beings that talk much, act even more. Proactive. She slept with me or with my brother due we only having two air conditioning units. One for mom’s room and the other one for grandma’s room. My brother slept with mom, and I slept with grandma. I have my own room but the heat of the summer and even the heat in autumn does not allow someone to sleep.

I talked with grandma about leaving Diana while we were in bed. She gave me her full support. I felt a lot of guilt, but I really wanted to feel free, and Diana was sucking the life out of me. I really loved Diana. She uses glasses like me all the time. Except on dates. She has long brown hair. Straight. The way I like it. She is skinny and her skin is smooth but a little bit oily. It make my blood go faster.

She is always asking and requiring more time from myself, and I got tired of her. She cried because I was not with her on the bus. She cried because I was not with her next to the class. The thing that I hated most was kissing her. She tastes like yellow square cheese. The one used in sandwiches for kids. I told her. She cried.

 I do not want to date her anymore. I had been with her for 13 months and each month is heavier for me.  The next morning at high school. I was really sad and thoughtful about my romantic relationship, but besides the good moments, unfortunately the bad moments were even more regarding. She was not a good girlfriend, and I am a Christian man looking for a real partner. At the morning the sun was not rise yet. Something that I have to this city. Every morning is cold and can be feel on the chicks and the blue takes a lot of time to go away. Mom took me to the bus stop. I arrive at all bus stops thinking of my own issues.

At school I saw Ariel, all dressed in yellow wearing the pants and jacket of our university’s state, yellow and blue, most yellow than blue to be honest. He always uses a lot of gel on his hair. I told him with sadness in my voice that I was tired of Diana. The blue morning start to disappear when my friend hugged me and told me that everything was going to be all right.

 

 

 

 

Memoirs - Course 4 - Week 3

 This is a two-part exercise, both 500 words. This is where you should focus solely on the beginning of the story, but do not necessarily concern yourself with the middle or the end.

Pick a dramatic event from your life, either big or small. (The death of a loved one, for instance, or the loss of your house key by the railroad tracks.) Now you’re going to write this same story twice. The first one will be where you withhold the information of what’s going to happen and simply begin the story with a descriptive scene that leads up to the dramatic event. The opening line should read something like, “One day I was walking home from school along the railroad tracks.” This should then be followed by all the sensory details that were covered from module 2. What was the weather like? Could you hear the sound of the train? You can include as much detail and scene as you like, but it is imperative that you at least get to the start of the “dramatic event” before the end of your 500 words, even if it’s in the final sentence.

Now I want you to write 500 words about the very same event, but here you will establish the tension immediately and tell the reader what is going to happen in the first line. “When I was twelve years old I lost my house key in the woods by the railroad tracks.” Since you’ve given that opening line, what context must follow in order to get the reader up to speed? Are your parents not at home? Are the railroad tracks far away? Write the first half of the piece with this sort of biographical information before you get back to the dramatic event. To put it another way: begin with staging the event, then cut away from the event, then return to it!

-------

How I lost my v card? I feel a thingy dingle thing all over my skin. From my feet to my head. My hair I imagine like if it was raising from my head. My arms were moving on their own. We start making out and I could feel her tongue. I could not avoid feeling how her tongue was short and beaked. Her teeth were amazing. I used to be with a girl that always taste like American square yellow cheese. Fuck you, Diana. I love you, Mayra. My tongue was feeling all her mouth. Her lips were soft I felt on my chest the most complex feeling I have ever known. I wanted to bite her lips. I want to devour her. My hands start to lift her blouse. My hands could almost touch. She is so skinny and thigh. I am standing next to her. There is no gap between her and I. Well, we both are wearing jeans but this hug is something else. She has a rainbow blouse, and I am wearing my favorite blue shirt from Polo Ralph Lauren. I am amazed of how good her skin feels. It is soft and strong at the same time. It is like my hands are made for touching her. My statue is just a little bit above her, but it seems like if we were glued together many times ago. I am started to be getting my hands a little bit above her waist. I touch her back, and I felt a little of her sweat. Feeling her liquidity over my hands exploit something inside myself. I get a connection between my balls, my stomach and my brain. My balls get down I feel how the start to raise temperature and my dick gets strong as never before. A bunch of energy comes from my dick to the rest of my body. My stomach feels like ache. I feel as thousand butterflies flying around on my stomach and start to fly all around my body. My blood start to run, and my heart beats to the same tempo of the music. The tiny bathroom of blue color. Well, it is not so tiny. We can move freely. The music of the party makes me feel secure nobody is going to stop us. She rise my shirt a bit and search for my belt. She starts to un belt me and trying to put down my blue jeans. I am feeling nervous all over my body. She is about to get down my boxers. Nobody has ever touched my dich. It looks even darker to this light. She takes it out and I am thinking I am going to get jerk off. Nice. She starts to put down her own light blue jeans down. I am terrified. She puts me dich next to her vagina I feel her hair and wetness all over my dick. Is this heaven? -------------- How I lost my v card? I feel a thingy dingle thing all over my skin. When she had my cock touching her wet pussy. My name is Yves. I am a male born at a middle high class. My father works in politics and my mother is a teacher at junior high school. At least this was when I was born. My father has both nationalities USA and Mexico. My mom did not want to give born to me in USA, so I lost that opportunity. My father quit to working in politics and start a business sending vegetables and fruit to USA. My uncles buy him and then re sale to clients on the heart of Texas. My father failed his business terrible. Everything was a messed. He got evicted from his office and Wearhouse. My brother and I got taken out of the private school. Grandma got sick and die. To be fair. She was already sick but got a lot worse. Our life suddenly changes. Dad needs it to leave the country and grandma dying make everything suddenly real harsh. The housekeeper that was paid by my grandma went away with her boyfriend. She got her pregnant and then leave her. All this just feels awkward. Being 10 starts to feel hard. Looking at mom crying and getting crazier each day is terrible. Dad is depressed. He just drinks and mom just wants to kill herself. Mom of mom, Grandma Carmen she now lives with us. But after many years of terrible teens at 18 I met the only and first one. Mayra and I are starting to date. We have been dating for like 10 days. I am a virgin. She is older than me. She is 22. She had a boyfriend before me who took her v card. I am not sad about this. At least not now. I have two good friends. One is called Hugo, and the other is Alex. Hugo is going to celebrate Alex birthday in his house. The party has going nice. Mayra suddenly told me that she needs the restroom. Hugo sends me to take her there. The party is at Hugo backyard. I take her inside the house. Next to the kitchen is the restroom. The restroom is blue. Mayra start kissing me and grab my junk. I have never touched a woman. At least not like that. I feel my junk touching her wet pussy. God. It is heaven.

Memoirs - Course 4 - Week 2

Revisit the fond memory that you wrote down at the beginning of this lesson. Now, in approximately 400-600 words, I want you to expand on that memory based on all of the things we’ve been discussing. Again, do not worry about beginning, middle, and end. Instead, focus on what details you remember. What the was weather like? What about the way someone said “hello”? Was there any particular color that you recall, even the color gray? Were there any loud sounds, soft sounds, distinctive smells? Did a shadow pass across the room? (For now, don’t censor yourself; include even insignificant details. You can always weed those out later.) And perhaps equally important: what don’t you remember? Unlike filmmakers, writer’s have an easier time in acknowledging holes in the story. Perhaps you remember that a framed painting that hung on the wall of the hospital room—but you don’t remember what the painting actually was. Set a scene for the reader around the memory, using the bits as elements to build the character of who you are in the scene. 

The yellow on the city has always make me close my eyes. All life with just a tiny bit of eyes opened due sun light. The heat of the asphalt is especially harsh when wearing leather sandals. The yellow shirt, blue shorts and brown sandals can not be reflected as a shadow. The shadow reflects my small size and to my right giving hand a tall and skinny form was next to me. The shadow does not reflect the dress, but the strong grip was easily seen on the shadow. Some people call it “grab my hand”. I always seen it as a trap made by the grownups.

The summer on hot zones always smell the same. Those how say heat do not have a smell, have never lived in Monterrey. I would say that it burns a little on the nose but is something just for the cities because the sand or the beach do not have that sensation.

 The shadow of her reflects her long hair, but not the red of it. The yellow surrounding the shadows besides the grey of the floor is something I will never understand, but neither I want to.

Crying and gripping her hand while crossing the road is not a recommended action, but the emotions where triggered. I cannot remember the words, but I think I can recall the message

“Do you want to come next day?”

“No” while crying and screaming. Sobbing and walking. Being sculled because vehicles where nearby and the movement of the avenue won’t be stopped by nobody. Sweat and tears have never been good friends, specially when they mix over a face.

 

 

 

Memoirs - Course 4 - Week 1 - Exercise 2

Year 1995: I was born. it was nice.

Year 1996: I got a birthday party. it was nice. 

Year 1997: I got a brother. i think it was okey. 

Year 1998: I was hugged by my father and let aside by mom. it was sad. 

Year 1999: I start to think and feel and feel in love of a girl. 

Year 2000: I was excited the year was about to end. 

Year 2001: I saw 9 11. it was not nice. 

Year 2002: Mom start to cry a lot. 

Year 2003: Grandma was declining in her health. 

Year 2004: i got my very best friend in live. Hope he is all right. 

Year 2005: Grandma die and Dad went away. Not cool. 

Year 2006: i got my favourite teacher. RIP Roberto Quiroga

Year 2007: I got into jr high

year 2008: I won my first big contest. Computers.

Year 2009: F i fell in love.

Year 2010: Got an scholarship. 

Year 2011: i break a hearth. She then date a friend. bitch. 

Year 2012: I got into university and I hate every second of it. 

Year 2013: I met the love of my life. 

Year 2014: The love of my life and I start dating. 

Year 2015: Real mom die. RIP Granny. Fuck you. you leave me alone. Nobody has loved me like that and you did not love me properly to be honest.

Year 2016: I star to got recognice at university. 

Year 2017: i leave my job as president of student council. I cry.

Year 2018: I got into Accenture. Sounded as a good idea

Year 2019: I travel the world. I met Paris. Great moment

Year 2020: i got my gf pregnant. Great sex. bad idea

Year 2021: i became a father.

Year 2022: I start hating on my wife. 

Year 2023: i bought a house. 

Year 2024: I met real depression and sadness. Wife got sick. Grandpa die. 

Year 2025: I AM BROKE AS HELL! but will finish master degree. 

Memoirs - Course 4 - Week 1

 Go back to that list you made earlier of events from your life. Is there anything that jumps out at you as not quite being enough for a story? Or conversely, is there anything that you hadn’t thought of that could now go on there? Let others weigh in on your list, either in person or in the discussion forums here – or both! Have them take a vote. What is the most interesting topic to people who don’t know you? Yes, this is a story by committee. Now write the first 500 words or so of the one that was voted most-interesting, but I want you to write about yourself in the 3rd-person (so I becomes he or she). In other words, you’re approaching yourself as a character in a story, in the same way as a writer of fiction. In our case, of course, all of the facts remain true. Keep in mind, this doesn’t necessarily have to be a complete story with a beginning, middle, and end, just a cohesive thought or set of thoughts that would lead into the bigger story you could write. Right now, I just want you to ramp up and set the scene, with enough information that the reader will feel part of the event.

The summer was hot. All political madness was just done. The elections had their results, and the months of craziness have stop. There were no more campaigns to come, and life got back into ordinary. The young boy was about to turn 20 years old. The grandmother was about to turn 69. They wake up late that summer. The boy has some money his father sends from USA. “Are you hungry? Do you want to go to the mall and grab a bite?” The boy asked to the old lady. “Yes. It seems like a good idea”. The boy has been watching how the old lady these past months is slower, it does not move like she just to. It takes a lot of her energy to wake up and to stand from bed. What used to be a very hyperactive woman that was always cleaning and trying to fix things of the house now has become an old lady. Afraid as only a son can be. The grandmother and him took a cab to the mall. He did not have a vehicle, his parents where poor and she did not know how to drive properly. She also did not have a vehicle. She was also poor, but something that all Latin American people reply is always the same “we were poor, but we were happy.” The cab took them to the mall and the slow peace was abnormal. The women became elderly sooner than expected. They bought something called gorditas. There is a big franchise northeast of Mexico call “Doña Tota”. The grandchild search for some chairs on the corners. The granny sits down waiting for him to order. He came back and ask her “what you want to eat?” “Some picadillo and desebrada” he replies. “I will order with some rice and beans”. The food court of the mall had few people in there. He went to order and pay. He got back to his grandma to talk to her. It was right there. The precise moment he realizes it. He saw directly on her eyes. The eyes of death. It is not a killing look, but more like I am being killed look. Terrible joke but let’s keep going. There are looks that reveal it all. Gladness, love, sad, depression but looks that show you the future there just a few. The eye patches were bigger than usual, the color of her skin, the loose weight. There was no more sparkle around her. The laughs, the joy. The eyes, the tiredness of her eyes describe everything it was need it to say. The grandchild went to pick up the order from the counter. They eat and she reply, “how nice it is to ask someone to pay”. The following month she got surgery. She stayed in bed for three weeks. She got home. Got worse. Last one day at the house. Got back into hospital. Another week in bed. She died at intensive care unit on September 27.

Memoirs - Course 4 - Week 1 - Exercise 1

I was playing and running with the other kids inside the small building. The nursery school was very small but full of colors. I knew the most special person in the world was coming for me. My mom. After we were all running, I was watching a little girl.

Today I am aware I like her. I have always love blondes. It is in my nature. After we stop playing. They ask us to go for our blankets and they put all the kids to sleep on the floor. We were all around three years old.  I must be three. My four years I remember it more clearly. 

We all went to the floor and try to sleep. The teacher sang to the kids and most of them rapidly went to sleep. This was my second nursery. I remember vaguely the first one, but I remember mom getting very mad with me after the first one. I have confusion between the time of first and second nursery. I am aware this is where I stop trusting my mom.  Because I was going to get skull even when it was not my fault. 

I pretend to be sleep and being afraid to be skull. I fall sleep. My first clear memory is being afraid of not falling sleep and to fall sleep with my blanket on the nursery. Fuck my fucking life.