Read the given story and classify it as 'imagined', 'recalled', or 'retold'. If a story is imagined, the person who wrote the story is making it up, pretending they experienced it. If a story is recalled, the person who wrote the story really experienced it and is recalling it from memory. If a story is retold, it is a real memory like the 'recalled' stories, but written down much later after previously writing a 'recalled' story about the same events. So, recalled stories and retold stories will be fairly similar, in that they both were real experiences for the writer. Imagined stories have a more linear flow and contain more commonsense knowledge, whereas recalled stories are less connected and contain more specific concrete events. Additionally, higher levels of self reference are found in imagined stories. Between recalled and retold stories, retold stories flow significantly more linearly than recalled stories, and retold stories are significantly higher in scores for cognitive processes and positive tone.

[Q]: I can't believe that I was published in a literary magazine for my poetry. I had been following this journal for a while. One day, I noticed that they had open submissions for poets. It was mentioned that only a select few entries would be chosen for the next publication. Very close to my birthday, I found out I was chosen! What's more is that this was the first time that I had ever submitted any of my work for review. I couldn't believe that I was chosen for publishing without any previous portfolio. I was one of thirty, out of hundreds of submissions. It was amazing enough that they thought my work was worthy, but I later found out that all my friends did, as well! In the form of a surprise tea party, my friends decided to gather and congratulate me for my first published work. I couldn't believe it! They rented a beachhouse, and decorated it all pink. Pink is my favorite color of course! They had also purchased all sorts of teas and baked goods. The party was perfect. I felt so accomplished. Most importantly, I felt so loved.
[A]: retold


[Q]: Hello Diary. My name is Dale, I was just diagnosed with stage 3 lung cancer. I am 58 years old, married happily to my wife, Angie, of 27 years. We have one daughter together, who is 26. Her name is Christina. Four years ago after graduating college, Christina moved away to peruse her career. Unfortunately, moving half way across the country took a toll on my wife. Now that I have been diagnosed with cancer, my wife is struggling even more. After finding out, during a phone call with my daughter, I asked her if she would be willing to move back closer to home, at least temporary, to provide support and be there for her mother. Two weeks ago, I learned that she has requested a leave from her job, and is renting the house next door to us for the next couple of months. Hearing that, was a sign of relief. Having Christina here the past couple of weeks has been so helpful, Chemotherapy is taking a toll on me, I don't have as much energy to do the things I did before. I am so grateful for my wife and daughter, I can only hope I make it through this and am able to live until I am old, wrinkly, and white haired with Angie. And that I am able to walk Christina down the aisle, and watch her raise a family. Until next time Diary. Dale.
[A]: imagined


[Q]: I'm a nurse that has worked in the same doctors office for years. You tend to get close to a lot of your patients, especially the elderly ones that might not have much, or any, family left. There is one patient of mine who has been with us a long time. She's charming, funny, sweet, and just a joy to see every time. Unfortunately she was diagnosed with a terminal illness last year. It really broke my heart. To see this wonderful woman being told that awful news. She's so sweet that she was comforting me! We held hands so tightly and just sat in silence in a back room. I'll never forget that moment. Next time she saw me she brought me a card with a beautiful note inside it. She also brought me a guardian angel and told me that was what I was to her. I cried. I've loved so many patients, but maybe not as much as her. I still go see her every time I'm near and a lot of time when I'm not. I see her a bare minimum of once a week. I never want her to be lonely, and I never want her to forget what she has meant to me.
[A]:
retold


