The first twenty minutes
Begin with the house. "Which door did you use to come in?" The first twenty minutes are for the building, not the life: rooms, objects, routine. Save anything with the word "why" in it for the second session. It is how the MemoriesBox interview starts.
What the first session is actually for
It is not for content. It is for establishing two things: that this is bearable, and that you are not going to ask them anything cruel. If both are true at the end of forty minutes, you will get a second session, and the second session is where the recording you want gets made.
Almost everyone gets this backwards. They arrive with the big questions — what are you proudest of, what would you do differently, what do you want us to remember — and the person opposite them closes like a hand. Those are third-ring questions. They need a foundation of ordinary, factual, low-stakes talk underneath them, and that foundation is built out of rooms and objects.
StoryCorps has recorded more than 700,000 people since 2003 and keeps the archive at the Library of Congress. Its format is one forty-minute conversation between two people who know each other. Forty minutes is a good length because it is short enough that nobody has to be impressive for very long.
Before you press record
- Sit at ninety degrees, not opposite. Across a table is an interview. Beside them, both facing the room, is a conversation.
- Put the recorder down and leave it alone. Do not hold it, do not check it, do not point it. A phone flat on a folded tea towel is fine.
- Kill the room noise you can kill. The fridge, the radio, the television in the next room. See getting clean audio in an ordinary room.
- Ask permission on the recording, not before it. Say the date, say who is there, and ask them to say yes out loud. It takes fifteen seconds and it is the thing you will be glad of later.
- Say who will hear it. Then say they can stop at any point and nothing has to be explained.
- Have tea, or something to hold. People talk better with their hands occupied.
Minute by minute
| Minute | What happens |
|---|---|
| 0–2 | Date, names, consent, who this is for. Recorded, not whispered beforehand. |
| 2–5 | Their full name, where they were born, and their parents' names and dates. Dull on purpose. It settles the voice. |
| 5–20 | The house. Room by room, starting at the front door. This is the whole first session if it goes well. |
| 20–35 | Whatever they raised while walking through the house. Follow them, not your list. |
| 35–40 | Stop while it is still good. Ask who else you should be asking about this, and agree the next date. |
Start here
| Ask | Then ask |
|---|---|
| Which door did you use to come into the house? | What was the first thing you saw when it opened? |
| Where did you sleep, and who else was in the room? | Who was the first one up in the morning? |
| What was on the kitchen table when you came home from school? | Who put it there, and what were they doing while you ate? |
| What was on the walls? | Who chose it, and did anybody disagree? |
| Was the house warm? | What did you do about it in February? |
| What could you hear from your bed at night? | Who else was still awake? |
The middle of the conversation
The street outside the door
| Ask | Then ask |
|---|---|
| Who lived next door? | What did they do for work, and what happened to them? |
| Which shop did you get sent to? | What did they let you buy on credit, and who paid it off? |
| How did you get to school? | Who did you walk with, and what did you talk about on the way? |
| Where were children not allowed to go? | Did you go anyway? |
The week
| Ask | Then ask |
|---|---|
| What happened every Sunday? | Who made you do it, and did you mind? |
| What was washday like? | How long did it take, and who helped? |
| What did you eat on an ordinary Wednesday? | Where did it come from — shop, garden, or somebody's brother? |
| When did the radio or television go on, and who decided? | What did everybody stop for? |
The first thing that was theirs
| Ask | Then ask |
|---|---|
| What was the first thing you owned that nobody else was allowed to touch? | Where is it now? |
| What was the first thing you bought with your own money? | What did it cost, and how long had you saved? |
| What did you get for your birthday when you were about ten? | Who gave it to you? |
Questions to save for later
Not in session one. If you ask any of these in the first forty minutes you will get a polished answer, and a polished answer closes the subject for months.
| Ask | Then ask |
|---|---|
| What was the hardest year? | What got you through it? |
| Was there someone the family stopped talking about? | What were you told at the time? |
| What did you want that you did not get? | Who else knew you wanted it? |
| What would you do differently? | Did you ever say that to anyone? |
The question that usually works when nothing else does
Can you walk me through the house, room by room, starting at the front door?
It is a map question, not a memory question, and that is why it works on people who insist they cannot remember anything. Floor plans survive when dates do not. A person who cannot place the year they moved will tell you exactly where the coal was kept, which stair creaked, and where the telephone sat once there was a telephone.
Every room has a person in it, and every person has a story attached, so the walk generates its own follow-ups. It also does the job of a table of contents. By the time you reach the back door you will have six subjects for six more sessions, all of them raised by them rather than by you.
How to end so that there is a second session
Stop early. Stop while they are still enjoying it, ideally mid-story, and say plainly that you would like to hear the rest next time.
Then ask two questions with the recorder still running. First: who else should I be asking about this? That produces names, and names open more doors than any question you could bring. Second: what should I bring next time? Photographs, a map, a recipe, the box in the wardrobe. Objects turn a second session into something they are prepared for rather than something being done to them.
Fix the date before you leave. "Sometime soon" is how these projects end.
If they say there's nothing to tell
It happens in the first ten minutes more often than not, and it is usually a verdict on the question rather than on their life. The fix is to go smaller and more concrete — a shed, a cupboard, a bus fare — rather than to argue. The counter-move for each kind of deflection is on what to ask when they say there's nothing to tell.
Questions people ask
How do I start a life story interview?
Record the date, the names and their spoken consent, then ask them to walk you through the house they grew up in, room by room, starting at the front door. Keep the first session to the building and the street, and leave the big questions until you have met twice.
How long should the first session be?
About forty minutes. Older people tire in a way that does not show until afterwards, and a short session that ends well is worth more than ninety minutes that end with everybody flat. Two good forty-minute sessions beat one long one.
Should I use a list of questions?
Bring six and expect to use three. The list is there to restart the conversation when it stalls, not to be worked through. If you find yourself reading the next question while they are still answering the last one, put the list face down.
What should I do if they want to hear the recording afterwards?
Play it back for them and mean it. Anyone being recorded should be able to hear what they said and ask for a part to be removed. That single habit is what makes the second and third sessions possible.
Related: When they say there's nothing to tell · Questions to ask your grandmother · All the question pages · Who agreed to be recorded
MemoriesBox does the sequencing for you: a guided interview across many sessions, the person's own voice kept rather than transcribed, and the family able to ask it questions later. $139 a year, first 14 days free.