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    Inter Writing

    Uploaded by

    huynhnguyetmaianh0221ch

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    © All Rights Reserved
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    Inter Writing

    Uploaded by

    huynhnguyetmaianh0221ch
    7 views2 pages

    Copyright

    © © All Rights Reserved

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    DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd

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    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    7 views2 pages

    Inter Writing

    Uploaded by

    huynhnguyetmaianh0221ch

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    of 2

    A personal narrative is a fancy name for writing about your life.

    It might be a small everyday happening or a large life event.


    Here are some events or experiences from my own life that I
    would like to write about.
    Yesterday, we made a list of personal narrative ideas; and
    experiences from our own lives. Today we are going to choose
    one idea, orally shared it, and then write. As a writer, I look at
    my list and think about which experience is of most interest to
    me and would be of interest to my reader. I would like to tell
    you about the time I broke my arm. The first time I ride a
    bicycle and like other people, a new thing and a new experience,
    we all have on the first try. It was a Saturday, I cannot remember
    if was sunny or cloudy, hot or cold, I cannot remember, but I do
    remember it was Saturday because the park was filled with
    people. My mom is not tall enough to be outstanding. She is
    skinny. It is easy to overlook her in a crowd simply because she
    is nothing extraordinary to see.
    She helped me to get on a bike. It was so big for me, of course.
    The bike that she bought looks colorful pink, blue, and white.
    Oh yes, unicorn! We have fantasies about unicorns. Not easy on
    the first try, but I wouldn’t give up easily. I remember looking
    up the people we passed as we walked – at first apathetically but
    then more attentively. An uneasy started to settle in my chest. I
    tried to push it out, but once it was rooted it refused to be
    yanked up and tossed away. I was ashamed of myself! At the
    age of 15, people know how to ride a bike when they were a kid.
    People around the road throw their eyes at me. Oh, such a
    shame! It was carefree at the moment. Just focus on what I was
    doing. “ Life is like a bike, if you don’t move on, you will fall,”
    said, someone. Get in getting off my legs were tired…. My mom
    pushed me and then took her hands off my bicycle. I struggled
    to find friends that I could trust would be there for me if I picked
    up and left again. Trust no one! I felt disappointed in myself and
    my mum. I fell off the bicycle. Painful. Stood up. Tried again.
    Over and over again. And just like the saying of Vietnamese
    people “ Having merit grind iron, one day it becomes a needle”.
    Yes, I trained hard on my bike, and a lot of injuries were caused
    during the training. As you can see, I succeeded, I was able to
    run on a bike that I thought was very difficult for me. During the
    training process , there were times when I was bored and tired,
    but when I think it later, I can ride on my favorite motorbike,
    and it seems negative

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