Stop waiting, start writing: Why now is the right time to begin your memoir.

“Too often memories die with their owner, and too often time surprises us by running out,” wrote one of our foremost authorities on memoir writing, William Zinsser.

Speaking candidly about the fact that we have a limited number of days on this Earth can be hard—no one wants to contemplate their death or jinx the happy times we’re living in right now. That’s why we come at it sideways sometimes—like with this quote that I often reference, again from Zinsser, because it inevitably—every time—elicits an emotional response:

“The saddest sentence I know is ‘I wish I had asked my mother about that.’”

That resonates with you, doesn’t it?

It is sad to think our mother’s—or father’s or grandparent’s—stories have died with them.

And one day your own kids will wish they had asked you for more: more stories, more details about your childhood, more names on the family tree. But it’s a simple fact that most times our children don’t value our stories until they are older; they don’t invite conversation about it now—but they will cherish them later.

That’s why it’s so important for you to begin recording your life stories now. Whether you write in a journal, work with a memoir coach, or share your memories during a series of personal history interviews, the time to begin is now.

• Don’t worry that you are too young—all your stories matter, and you can always write more later, when you’re older.

• Don’t worry that you haven’t lived your full life—we are all in the midst of our narrative, and reflecting upon your stories of the life you have lived thus far is worthwhile. “Every event, and certainly every event worth writing about, will always remain tattooed on our neurons. So it is never too early to start giving those events, which are our lives, a form,” Benjamin Moser has written. “It is a homage we pay ourselves. More solid than a memory, a memoir will outlast it, because until a memory is put into words, it remains mist, never shore.”

• Don’t worry that you don’t have enough time to write—there are ways to make the time for something as important as your life story.

• And don’t worry that you will have more perspective when you are older: “Of course someone will look back at his first broken heart with a different perspective at the age of 40, or 60, or 80. But that doesn’t mean that these perspectives are better, or that our self-­understanding travels toward some telos of perfect consummation with every passing year,” Leslie Jamison wrote. “The narratives we tell about our own lives are constantly in flux; our perspectives at each age are differently valuable. What age gains in remove it loses in immediacy: The younger version of a story gets told at closer proximity, with more fine-grain texture and less aerial perspective.”

So don’t risk not having the time to tell your stories. Preserve them now. As Zinsser suggests, “be a recording angel and record everything your descendants might want to know.” Starting…right now.

“I wish I knew”

A recent article in The Wall Street Journal, “The Questions You Wish You Had Asked Your Parents,” cites a growing interest in people wanting to know more of their family stories.

The uptick in awareness of story preservation is attributed to the rise in home DNA kits, the popularity of family history via sites such as Ancestry, and the younger generation’s comfort level with documenting every aspect of their lives: “Younger people are more transparent and used to telling the story of their own lives, often online for many to see, and expect it from others,” writes Clare Ansberry.

This recent article in The Wall Street Journal indicates that more and more families are realizing the value of preserving their stories.

All of this is no doubt accurate, and I do find millennials in particular curious about their parents’ lives before parenthood and even nostalgic about their own childhoods.

But I would argue that this interest in our collective family history is nothing new—at least, not when talking about family history in terms of stories.

While finding distant DNA cousins is indeed new, wanting to know more about our parents’ lives is not. Unfortunately, all too often people don’t recognize that desire until it’s too late.

I’ve written before about how it may seem like your grown kids don’t care about learning about your life—but that in fact, they merely don’t care to pay attention just yet. And that’s the key here: We either need to get the younger generations to realize the urgency in capturing their elders’ stories, or convince the older generations that not only do their stories matter, but that they will be treasured by their family when they are gone.

Is story preservation a new trend?

The message of that WSJ article is that, apparently, both of these things are happening—changes are afoot that are opening our eyes to the need—and value and desire—for documenting our family stories.

I hope this is the case. I know personal historians such as myself and those quoted in the article are making every effort to spread the word and stress the importance of preserving our legacies.

I’m not convinced, though, that enough people are on board.

I hope that more and more people begin to see the value in asking their parents about their lives before parenthood.

I hope that more and more people realize that now is the time to begin asking—not later, not when it’s more convenient or they’re less busy.

I hope that more and more family elders acknowledge that their lives have been interesting, that the paths they have taken hold lessons for the next generation, and that their stories matter.

Most of all, I hope that you FEEL the urgency and take the first step toward preserving your family’s stories for posterity.

Avoid having to say, “I wish I knew.”

If you’re a DIY’er, consider writing about your life or interviewing your family members.

If you would like to explore how working with a personal historian can make the process easier and yield a more professional product, please reach out to chat.

What I know: I still hear from far too many people about the regrets they have: not asking their parents about their lives until it is too late; until dementia has crept in, or their parents have passed.

It is my mission to help people have no regrets. Won’t you join me in this mission?

Think your grown kids don’t care about your stories?

I was recently chatting with another local entrepreneur about our businesses. Her interest was piqued by a life story book sample I had in tow, and she was clearly drawn to the idea of preserving her stories.

Fast-forward two weeks, when I bump into her again: “I was talking about what you do with my 24-year-old daughter. She clearly had no interest in learning anything more about me or her father—she just doesn’t care.” As she said this, there was a look of barely concealed anguish on her face, her body folding in on itself.

Oh, my.

Of course this isn’t the first time I have heard such a sentiment. Many people with whom I speak tell me that their kids—even adult children with families of their own—could not care less about their family history.

• “If they cared, they would ask me what my childhood was like.”

• “I’ve tried to tell my kids about what it was like to move here from China, but they barely listen.”

• “Are you kidding? Of course I don’t talk about my past with my kids.”

The thing is: They might not care now, but they will someday.

How do I know? Because I have heard the regrets of too many. Folks who wish they had asked the questions, heard the stories, witnessed their parents as people beyond ‘mother’ and ‘father’—before it was too late.

Let me ask you this: Are there things you wish you knew about your own parents? That you wish you had been able to ask them before they passed away?

Now: Did you care about those things when you were in your twenties?

If you put yourself in your grown kids’ shoes, you’ll see that their lack of “care” about your past—about your experiences and wisdom—is because they haven’t learned to care yet. They take for granted that you’ll be there when…when they need something, and when they eventually want to talk (and listen). They are in the midst of forming their own lives, focused on the “me,” not, ahem, on you.

You get that, right? It doesn’t mean they don’t care; it means they don’t care to pay attention just yet.

Your stories are the gift they don’t yet know they want.

Whether you begin writing anecdotes in a question-a-day journal or sit down with a personal historian such as myself, please do something to share your stories for posterity.

Don’t let your kids have regrets.

Still not convinced your stories will matter one day?

Browse the posts below to explore why it’s so crucial to preserve your life stories now for the next generation.

The plague of procrastination

One of the first things I ever had published was an essay in defense of procrastination. It was somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but then, as now, I do find a certain allure to “productive procrastination”—that is, I often put things off because an idea is still germinating, and needs time. Many of my creative endeavors are enriched by time spent doing other things; I often sort out editorial structure while exercising, or brainstorm and troubleshoot while running mindless errands. Maybe “procrastination” isn’t really the right word for that, after all.

True procrastination, however—undesired delay—is too often self-defeating.

Recent studies have indicated that procrastination is not simply a matter of poor time management, but that there is a clear emotional element to our tendency to put things off. “You know what you ought to do and you’re not able to bring yourself to do it. It’s that gap between intention and action,” says Timothy Pychyl of Carleton University, in Canada.

Lately I have been faced with a rash of such procrastination among friends and potential clients. I am not talking about leaving a sink full of dishes for tomorrow, but rather a box full of photos and a head full of questions for…well, for “someday.”

It’s one thing to be self-defeating by putting off homework or exercise. It’s another to ignore big things that we know hold tremendous meaning.

From “Must Do” to Forgotten Task

When people learn what I do for a living, their eyes light up, and so often they recite a list of people whose stories they wish to preserve:

“I am visiting with my entire extended family next month and I absolutely should capture their stories.”

“My father is in the hospital with signs of early dementia, but he still has days of clarity. His stories of growing up in Prague are so precious—I must do something to preserve them soon!”

“My son adores sitting with his grandmother listening to her tales of childhood in Brooklyn! I hope he remembers them when he gets older!”

“My dad was in the Secret Service during my entire childhood. He is retired now, and sometimes I overhear him telling incredible stories to his cronies. I wonder if he would share them with me?”

Every one of these statements, while not quoted verbatim, is from actual conversations I have had in the past few months.

And every one of these individuals continues to find ways to put off gathering stories from their loved ones.

Why Wait?

While on a professional level I of course would love for these individuals to hire me to help preserve their stories in an heirloom book, on a personal level it saddens me that their procrastination just may result in a loss of family stories. Photographs will become mysteries for the next generation to solve. Memories will be lost to time. Their undocumented family history will become a genealogical puzzle.

If no one cared about these stories and memories, none of this would matter. But they not only care, they care deeply. I hear it in their voices when they are talking to me; I know it from my own experience.

Ignoring your instinct to preserve your family stories can be an expensive trade-off. And most of us know this. So we do we wait?

• Studies show that we are most likely to procrastinate when we are unsure how to proceed—and that is often the case with “big” preservation projects.

• Moreover, we tend to jump more quickly on tasks that provide instant gratification—and most of our storytelling efforts take time.

• Lastly, when our perceived value of the task is high (how fun, how meaningful?), we are more likely to do it.

I am here to help you figure out how to proceed—so there is no worry (and no excuse!) in saying “yes” to starting today. And what could be of greater value than preserving your stories—your wisdom, your experiences, your adventures—for the next generation?

Knowing those two things, please don’t let the draw of instant gratification keep you from beginning. Some things in life are worth the wait, and preserving your memories, meaningfully and beautifully, is certainly one of them.

As the motivational wizards at Nike say:

Related Reading:

• While there are lots of lists of family history questions on the web, here are 3 places to find unexpected questions that lead to meaningful life story writing.

• Meet Josh: He plans to write his biography someday. Yet he has told his adult kids none of his life stories. How about you—are you waiting for “someday,” too?

• No one will tell your life stories but you. Start small by saving family photos & preserving stories so you create a lasting, meaningful legacy, one step at a time.