What to ask when they say there's nothing to tell

Ask about a thing, not a life. "What was in your father's shed?" is answerable. "Tell me about your childhood" is not, and "there's nothing to tell" is the correct reply to it. Deflection is nearly always a question problem, and MemoriesBox's follow-ups exist for it.

"There's nothing to tell" is usually true

It is true of the question, not of the life. "Tell me about your childhood" asks someone to summarise eighteen years while a phone is recording. There is no good answer to it. "Fine" and "there's nothing to tell" are the only sensible replies, and people give them within about six seconds.

So the first move is never persuasion. Do not tell them their life was interesting. They have already decided it was not, and arguing about it turns the recording into a negotiation. Ask something so small and specific that answering is easier than refusing.

Deflection is what a person does when a question is answerable but they would rather not answer it, or do not believe the answer is worth your time. It comes in five recognisable forms and each has a different counter-move. Using the wrong one is what makes people give up in week one.

The person saying it is also wrong about the audience. 53% of Americans cannot name all four of their grandparents, and 51% say the thing they most want is stories about their ancestors when they were young (OnePoll for Ancestry, March 2022, n=2,113).

Start here

These are the questions that get past a first refusal. Not one of them asks about a life. All of them ask about a thing, a place or a job of work.

Ask	Then ask
What was in your father's shed?	What did he not let you touch, and did you touch it?
What was the coldest you have ever been?	Where were you, and what were you wearing?
What was in the kitchen cupboard that you never see now?	What happened to it — did it stop being made, or did you stop buying it?
How did you get to school?	Who did you walk with, and what did you talk about on the way?
What did a loaf of bread cost when you were first shopping for yourself?	What did you earn that week?
What was the first machine in the house that everybody wanted to use?	Who decided who got to use it?

The middle of the conversation

The person who answers in one sentence

"It was fine." "We managed." "Not much to say about that."

The counter-move is to stop asking for facts and start asking for sequences. A question that requires an order of operations cannot be closed in four words, and "take me through it from when you woke up" is the workhorse. Then the second move, which feels rude and is not: be wrong on purpose. People who volunteer nothing will correct you at length, every time.

Ask	Then ask
Take me through an ordinary Tuesday, from waking up.	Where did you eat, and who else was at the table?
So you would have taken the bus into town?	What was the fare, and where did you get on?
How did you actually do that — what were the steps?	What went wrong the first time you tried?

The person who tells the same polished version every time

Every family has a set piece: the story about the car, the story about the interview, told in the same words for forty years. It is a track worn smooth, and while they are on it they are performing rather than remembering.

Do not challenge the story. Step one metre off it. Ask for the hour before and the hour after, who else was in the room, what they did that evening. The polished version has no detail in those places, so they have to go and get it, and that is the moment the recording becomes worth having.

Ask	Then ask
What happened in the hour before that?	And what did you do that evening, once it was over?
Who else was in the room while that was going on?	What would they say if I asked them about it?
Who told that story first — you, or somebody else?	What did they leave out?

The person who says "you don't want to hear about that"

This means one of three things: it is boring in their estimation, it is shameful, or it hurts. You cannot tell which from the sentence, so answer the boring version first. It is the most common and the least intrusive.

Say exactly what you want and make it small. Not "I want to know about your life" but "I want to know what the food was, that's all." Then hand them the exit before they ask for it: you can tell me and we can cut it afterwards. If it is the painful version, they will say so, and the honest thing then is to leave it and come back in another session.

Ask	Then ask
I only want to know what the food was. What did you eat that week?	Who cooked it, and where did it come from?
Can you tell me the boring part — where you lived and what the job was?	Who else worked there?
If it is easier, tell me and we can cut it later.	Would you rather this part was kept for the family only?

Deflection through humour

The man who answers every question with a punchline is not being difficult. Jokes are a good way to stay in a conversation you would rather not be having, and if you fight them you lose the conversation as well.

So laugh, then ask the straight follow-up in the same breath, as though the joke had been an answer. Take it seriously as evidence: jokes come from somewhere, usually a workplace, an army unit or a father. And note quietly which subject the jokes cluster around. That is the one to ask about later, in the car, with no table between you.

Ask	Then ask
Where did that joke come from — who used to say it?	Who else was in that room when they said it?
That is the funny version. What was the boring version?	What did you actually do about it at the time?
Who was the funniest person you ever worked with?	What happened to him?

Deflection through modesty

"I haven't done anything." "Ask someone who's been somewhere." This is the hardest one, because it is sincere and because arguing makes it worse.

Remove the requirement to be interesting. Stop asking about them and start asking about the world, with them as the witness rather than the subject: what things cost, which jobs existed, what you had to queue for, how long a telephone took to install. Say the frame out loud. I am not asking what you achieved, I am asking what it was like to be there, because you were there and I was not.

Ask	Then ask
What did people do then that nobody does now?	Who taught you how to do it?
What jobs existed in your town that are gone?	Who did you know that did one?
What did you have to queue for?	How long, and what did you do while you waited?

Questions to save for later

These need trust and they need at least one session behind you. The signal that you have earned them is simple: they start telling you things you did not ask for.

Ask	Then ask
Was there a year you would rather not talk about?	You do not have to say what happened. Just tell me which year.
Who in the family did people stop mentioning?	What were you told at the time?
What did you decide not to tell your mother?	Did she find out anyway?
Is there something you would want said only after you are gone?	Do you want it recorded and sealed, or not recorded at all?

The year question is the most useful thing on this page. Naming a year is not a confession, so people will do it, and once a year has been named the subject exists and can be returned to in a later session or never.

The question that usually works when nothing else does

What did you have to do that people don't have to do any more?

It asks nothing of them and everything of the era. A modest person can answer it without claiming to be interesting, because the claim being made is about the world rather than about them. It produces coal, washing by hand, telegrams, ration books, party lines, carbon paper, going to a neighbour's house to use the telephone. And every one of those answers has the next question sitting inside it, because they all involve a place, a piece of equipment, and somebody who taught them how.

If it still does not work

Some people do not want to be recorded, and that is not deflection. It is an answer, and it deserves to be taken at face value rather than worked around. There is a separate page on what to do then, including recording in ways that do not feel like recording: how to record someone who doesn't want to be recorded.

Questions people ask

My father says his life was boring. How do I get him to talk?

Stop trying to convince him it was not. Ask about the world instead of about him: what things cost, what jobs existed, what you had to queue for. He can answer those as a witness rather than a subject, and the personal detail arrives on its own about ten minutes in.

What do I do when they only give one-sentence answers?

Ask for a sequence rather than a fact. "Take me through it from when you woke up" cannot be answered in four words. Then say something slightly wrong on purpose, because people who volunteer nothing will always correct you.

How do I get past the same story I've heard a hundred times?

Do not interrupt it. Ask about the hour before and the hour after, who else was in the room, and what they did that evening. The polished version has no detail in those places, so they have to go back and remember properly.

Is it worth recording someone who does not want to talk about themselves?

Yes, if they will talk about anything else. Most of a life story is not self-description. It is places, work, food, prices, journeys and other people, and those are the parts a family listens to twenty years later.

MemoriesBox asks the follow-up for you. It runs a long guided interview across many sessions, keeps the person's own voice, and lets the family ask it questions later. Hosted in the EU. $139 a year, first 14 days free.

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