The Story Behind the Story

Everyone has a story. That’s the theme of this website and the basis that guides every personal historian I know. And when people are ready, they tell their stories: in a private journal, through face-to-face conversations, or with the help of a professional memoir writer.

But what we don’t talk about often is the story behind the story.

What prompts someone to finally sit down and share? The specifics are as varied as the individual authors, but as a professional memoir writer myself, I do see some common themes.

Often the prompt isn’t something, but someone. A son or daughter, a grandchild, or someone else close makes the convincing case that a loved one’s story is worth telling. Maybe there is some prodding involved. A plea or two. But the story behind this story is clear: I am loved. And my family and friends want to preserve my journey.

Sometimes the prompt is a personal misfortune. A serious diagnosis or injury. A death in the family. One’s mortality—a vague notion never really contemplated—can no longer be denied and there is much to share. And an urgency to share it soon. The story here? Seize the day. Preserve memories, lessons learned, messages of love…before it’s too late.

Then there are the stories that are launched because of a joyous event. One’s triumph over tragedy—poverty, abuse, disease, hardship—should be celebrated and many want to share their recipe for success with others. The story behind this story is obvious and the writer cannot wait to put down their words: I survived! And you can too!

And finally there are those who need no prompt. They’ve wanted to write for years and the time is finally right. Experience, wisdom, and perspective have come together and they feel that sharing their journey through writing is something they simply must do. The story here? I have a valuable life story, and it’s time for me to tell it.

Whatever your prompt, listen closely to its call. Because the truth is every story, once written, contains all of these messages. Everyone will leave behind someone (or many someones) who will want their story preserved. Everyone should seize the day before it’s too late. Everyone has survived a hardship (or ten) and should share their secrets for survival.

And everyone has a valuable story to tell and should take the time to tell it.

Please let me know if you’d like my help.

Tell Me What (Little Things) You Did Over Summer Vacation

It’s “Back to School” season, which means millions of grade school children are being greeted with their first academic assignment of the year. For decades teachers have treated it as a near-obligatory transition to the classroom: “Tell me what you did over summer vacation.”

Younger kids will draw pictures of themselves at the pool or beach. Tweens may write essays about first experiences at overnight camp. Truth be told, I don’t remember what I shared many moons ago when I completed those September assignments. But as a parent, I do recall the stories my now-13-year-old son shared with his grade-school teachers.

I eagerly anticipated seeing his drawings of Cancun, where we went one summer a few years back. I imagined him creating pictures of iguanas or his leap from a 30-foot cliff. One August we spent a week in Maine, hiking the breathtaking trails in Acadia National Park. We’ve done a cruise to Bermuda, a week at an adventure park in West Virginia, a trip to Albuquerque.

I was proud that my husband and I were able to provide my son with such experiences, exciting memories to bring home and share with friends and teachers. Memories to hold forever.

But none of those memories ever made it to that back-to-school assignment. Instead, I read that “Ethan and I had a sleepover” and “I burned leaves with a magnifying glass.” Once he wrote about a movie he saw.

Really?

I must admit that as a parent, I was a little bummed. Those vacations weren’t easy to arrange. Or free for that matter.

But as a personal historian, I get it.

“Tell me what you did over the summer” may be a child’s first personal history assignment. “Think back,” the teacher is saying. “What is important to you? Who is important to you? What events had an impact?”

As an adult writing a full personal history, you may be amazed with what you recall from yesteryear and what has slipped away. Maybe you don’t remember the iguanas or cliffs of Cancun at all. But the plane ride? You were above the clouds for the first time! The trip to Maine is a blur but you can still hear the crowd from the first Mets game you saw on the way home.

What you remember all these years later is the story. The memories that last are key to understanding who you are and how you came to be the person you are today. When you write your memoir, follow the guidance of teachers everywhere: “What is important to you? Who is important to you? What events had an impact?”

Often, it’s the little things.

Invest in Your Family's Story: A Sliding Scale of Options

The Wall Street Journal recently published a piece about a new benefit financial services firms are offering their “ultrahigh-net worth clients:” family history chronicling. Companies such as Morgan Stanley and Wells Fargo are employing in-house teams or outsourcing services to professional genealogists and personal historians to meet the needs of clients who want to know “the good, the bad, and the ugly of where they came from.” The result is a book or video that tells “the whole story.”

I loved everything about the article except one thing. And it’s a big thing:

Preserving one’s family history need not be—and is not—reserved for the ultra-rich.

Yes, it’s true, personal historians need to make a living too, and when you engage one for a full-length video or multi-hundred page memoir, you should expect to spend a chunk of money. But there are so many options and, cliché as it may sound, options that meet every budget.

• Write it yourself—Many of my clients write their own books. I serve as their on-call guide to help with brainstorming, organization, editing, and production. Books and online resources are also available to guide you through the process.

• Take a class—Inexpensive (and even free) memoir writing workshops are offered by many personal historians and community centers across the country. Go online or check with your local library to see what’s available in your area.

• Tell it in pictures—Go through that enormous box of photos or overflowing photo album and select pictures of the key people, places, and milestones from your life. Write your memories—the who, what, when, and where—of each picture. Place the photos and memories in a sturdy album or ask a personal historian to help you create a bound book.

• Tell it in stages—The process of writing your family’s history may take years, and definitely will take months. Determine a monthly or even yearly budget that feels reasonable and find a personal historian who will bill you incrementally (most will).

And for those who want a full-length book or video, check around. The cost may be far more reasonable than you suspect. I’ve yet to work with an “ultrahigh-net worth client” and I’ve helped many write their memoirs.

Every family has a story. Don’t let money to keep you from investing in yours.

Share Your Family's Story and Save Your Family's Life

Most often, my clients describe the process of writing their family history as “fascinating” and “cathartic.” Other words that crop up are “illuminating,” “therapeutic,” and “thought-provoking.” But not until I read a recent article in the Washington Post did I consider that writing one’s family history could be legitimately referred to as “life-saving.”

The article – Did your aunt have cancer? Knowing could save your life.—cites powerful data correlating family medical history and the development of disease. Consider these numbers: One in three cancers has a genetic component; six in ten cases of alcoholism do. Diabetes, dementia, heart disease, asthma, and schizophrenia are all partly hereditary. And the list goes on.

According to geneticist Joe Nadeau, “The conventional family history is still the best predictor of disease risk.”

Few sit down and discuss family medical history as a matter of course. And with the absence of this information, generations are unaware of their risk for disease. Risks which, today, often can be treated preemptively. By writing family memoirs, and including the health history of immediate relatives, authors can share life-saving information with children, grandchildren, and beyond.

Those who seek to include this information – good for you! – should be aware of potential barriers that await them in their research. Stigma associated with mental illness, for example, may keep some from disclosing a relative’s schizophrenia or depression, diseases which are both genetic and treatable with today’s medicine. A family’s battle with alcoholism is often kept under wraps, preventing younger generations from heeding caution or abstention when making their own choices around alcohol. Even breast cancer was considered shameful not too long ago. When Grandma stays mum about her breast cancer saga, she prevents future generations from pursuing today’s science, which may reduce or even eliminate their chances of developing the disease.

As new terminologies come into vogue, today’s memoirists struggle with correctly interpreting medical jargon from yesteryear. Tuberculosis, epilepsy, and stroke, for example, all went by different names just a few decades ago (consumption, falling sickness, and apoplexy, respectively). There must be clear definitions when different generations come together to review medical history.

Regardless of what keeps us from discussing our health – whether it’s stigma, language, or the always-popular denial – family stories allow for the opportunity to break through barriers and share the truth of genetics. By sharing your history, you remove shame from the conversation and convey the reality of being human in a world with disease. When you disclose your family’s medical history with your children and grandchildren, you give them the gift of knowledge.

So yes, writing your family story indeed can be “life-saving.”  

Talk to a personal historian about starting your memoirs today.

First Jobs—Another Forever Memory

Just days after posting my last blog on the “forever memories” associated with first loves, an email arrived in my inbox suggesting that forever memories are associated with another first as well: first jobs. Immediately I knew the premise was true. Who doesn’t remember their first job?

The stretched subject line of the email queried: “Think back to your first job. What do you wish you’d known?” When opened, the email featured an article, written by President Barack Obama, titled “Here’s the Scoop. Why My First Job Mattered.”

(Spoiler Alert…he worked at Baskin Robbins.)

I always ask clients about their first jobs. First bosses. First hourly rates. First paychecks. Whether we go on to serve as doctors or moms or U.S. Presidents, most of us can’t help but smile when we recall that very important first in our life and the pride we felt for being paid what today amounts to pennies per hour.

In a life story that undoubtedly contains some tough periods, it’s amusing to look back at where we started when our sole financial goal was to have money for a soda or movie. First jobs, unlike first loves, usually end without heartache. When we’ve had enough of scooping ice cream, when we’re ready to step one rung higher on the professional ladder, we move on. First jobs are usually pretty simple.

My husband earned his first paycheck as a Turkey Tucker. Yes, a Turkey Tucker. Bulky, frozen turkeys were tossed down a funnel-type machine and my husband retrieved them one at a time and squeezed together the icy legs of the icy turkey into a metal contraption. Sounds glorious, doesn’t it?

Check out these other funny first jobs:

• Pope Francis: Nightclub bouncer
• Mitt Romney: Chauffeur
• Elvis Presley: Truck driver
• Marlon Brando: Ditch digger
• Bill Gates: Congressional page
• Oprah Winfrey: Grocery store cashier

When you work with a personal historian or write your own memoir, remember to spend a few paragraphs on your first job. What were you paid (you have to include this!)? What were your responsibilities? How did you spend your first paycheck?

My husband remained a Turkey Tucker for one week.

How did you do?