I want to write down the story of my life for my children and grandchildren.

A memoir is a set of stories, not your whole life in order

An autobiography tries to cover a life from birth to now. A memoir picks a part of it, a place, a stretch of years or a theme, and tells it as a story. For a family book, that is good news. You don't have to start at the beginning or be complete. You write the stories that matter and put them in order later, by year or by theme: the houses, the jobs, the people who gave you a chance.

A decision rule for each piece: if you can finish the sentence “This is the story of how I...” with one thing, it's one piece. If you need “and then” twice, it's two.

The arithmetic is kinder than it looks. One story a week at about 1,200 words, the Medium setting, gives you 30 stories and roughly 36,000 words in seven months. At a typical 300 words to a printed page (a rule of thumb; it depends on the book's size and font), that is around 120 pages, a real book for your grandchildren. Shorter pieces work just as well: 50 stories of about 600 words come to 30,000 words.

Getting the memories out, if you'd rather talk than type

If you tell stories better than you write them, start by talking. Record yourself on a phone telling one memory to a grandchild, a friend or the empty kitchen, use the phone's dictation or transcription, and paste the result into the main box as it is, ums and all. The box takes up to 20,000 characters, roughly 3,000 words of transcript. The format keeps your own expressions and regional turns of phrase, and shapes the rest into a story that opens with a scene and ends with a short line back to the present.

If you're stuck, switch Mode to Interview questions. It writes 8 to 40 questions, 20 by default, grouped by stage of life, such as childhood and family, work and turning points, with suggested follow-ups on lines marked →. A grandchild can ask them while the phone records. Some questions that tend to bring a whole scene back:

What did the kitchen of the house you grew up in smell like on a Sunday?

What was your first paycheck, and what did you buy with it?

Who taught you to drive, and what went wrong?

What did a loaf of bread, a stamp or your first rent cost?

Who gave you a chance you didn't expect?

Which move did you not want to make?

What song takes you straight back to one particular year?

Making it sound like you, not like a greeting card

The quickest test is a before and after. A generated-sounding line: “My childhood was a time of simple joys, and my father played a pivotal role in shaping who I am today.” The same memory from the notes above: “Dad worked nights at the plant, so until noon the whole house whispered. His jacket hung by the back door and smelled of hot metal and coffee.” The first could be anyone's. The second could only be yours, and it never uses the word “joy”.

The format is told to work the same way: open with a scene, tell the events from your notes as one story, keep emotional moments plain because plain telling moves people more, and never add events, people, names, dates or places that aren't in your notes. A light red pen pass cuts stock phrases like “a testament to” and leaves your own expressions and the [?: ...] notes alone. For a saved voice on a plan, use things you wrote without trying to sound like a writer: letters, holiday letters, long emails to family, at least 300 characters across 2 to 5 pieces. Pro saves 5 voices and Pro Max 20.

When you can't remember, say so. “I think it was the winter of 1958, though Tom says 1959” is honest and reads well. Check spellings and dates against photos, letters or a sibling before you share a piece.

Writing about people who are still alive

Family memoirs are full of real people, some of whom will be at the next Thanksgiving. The usual practice is simple. Show a piece to anyone who appears in it in a way they might mind before you share it widely. Change or leave out a name when a story would hurt someone more than it helps the reader. Keep other people's secrets out unless they are yours to tell too. For a book printed for the family, this is mostly about kindness. If you plan to publish for strangers and write about living people in ways they could object to, ask a publisher or a lawyer first; this page isn't legal advice.

A finishing checklist for each story: a title and the year it happened at the top; one photo if you have it; names spelled the way the family spells them; every [?: ...] note answered or removed; read aloud once; printed in a type size the oldest reader in the family can manage.