How do I record my parents' stories?

Record while something else is happening — a cup of tea, a drive, a box of photographs — rather than announcing a formal interview. Start the recording, put the phone face down, ask one question and then stay quiet. Twenty minutes on one story beats an hour of life history.

How long should a recording be?

About twenty minutes. One story told properly is far more valuable than a long chronological summary, and short sessions keep the storyteller relaxed enough to wander into the good details.

What questions should I avoid?

Avoid asking directly about feelings, and avoid correcting dates or details. Ask about physical things — rooms, objects, streets, jobs — and let the emotion arrive inside the description. Correcting someone mid-story is the fastest way to make them stop.

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How to record a family story without it feeling like an interview

Last updated 2 September 2026

The moment you put a phone on the table, most people change how they talk. They get formal, they shorten things, they check whether they're doing it right. Here's how to stop that happening.

Do it sideways, not head-on

Don't announce a recording session. Announce a cup of tea, and record while it happens. "I want to get the canal one down properly before I forget it" works. "I'd like to interview you about your life" makes people sit up straight and become dull.

The best recordings happen while someone's hands are busy — peeling potatoes, driving, walking the dog, going through a box of photographs. Attention on the task, mouth free to wander.

Put the phone down and forget it

Start recording, put the phone face down on the table, and don't touch it again. If you keep glancing at it, they will too. Nobody has ever needed to watch a recording happen.

Ask one question, then shut up

This is the whole technique, honestly. Most people can't bear a silence and will fill it — and what they fill it with is the story. If you jump in to help, you get your version of their memory.

When they stop, count to three before you say anything. The bit after the pause is very often the best bit.

Ask about things, not feelings

"How did you feel when Grandad died" is a question people deflect. "What was the house like that week" is a question people answer — and the feeling comes out inside the answer, which is where it belongs.

Twenty minutes is plenty

One story told properly beats an hour of life summary. Long sessions tire people out and produce a flat chronology: born here, moved there, worked there. Short and specific is better, and you can always do another next Sunday.

Four things that kill it

Correcting them. If the year is wrong, let it be wrong. You're recording how they tell it, not compiling a record.
Finishing their sentences. Even when you know the ending. Especially then.
Asking in front of an audience. One person is a conversation. Four is a performance.
Waiting for a good moment. There isn't one. There's just this Sunday, and then fewer of them.

What to do afterwards

Get it off the phone the same day, wherever your family keeps things. Recordings that live only in one person's camera roll are one broken screen from gone.

And play it back to them. People are usually embarrassed for about ten seconds, then quietly delighted — and they'll remember three more stories while it's playing.

Retold records these conversations in the storyteller's own voice and draws them into little films your family can keep. It's in beta now — free while it's finding its feet.

See how it works →