A Genealogist’s Guide to Storytelling: Two Types of Editing

In this series, we’re talking about how to craft your genealogical research into engaging stories to share with family.

• The first post covers the facts, clues, and in-between bits that form the backbone of your story, and you can find it here.
• The second post discusses the character, conflict, and cost of your story, which you’ll find here.
• The third post covers bringing your story to a satisfying conclusion, located here.

Maybe right now you’re asking, “What on earth comes after the conclusion? I thought we were done!”

Nope. Welcome to editing.

The editing process is often misunderstood. Beyond simple spell-checking, editing is a broad term with multiple meanings, but all of them are about putting the polish on your story to make it the best it can be. If you’re interested in the layers of editing novels undergo, this article on The Editorial Process by literary agent Steve Laube breaks them down.

For our purpose of writing stories for a family audience, we are going to focus on content editing and proofreading.

First, the Content Edit

Once you’ve completed the first draft of your story, there’s a good chance that some of the material — even that interesting morsel you went to considerable trouble and expense to obtain — needs to be cut from the final version.

Allow me to prove it with an example. Here is one of my early attempts, exactly as I posted it on a message board several years ago.

The Witter Grocery

Plans were announced in January 1911 that brothers Jay Ansley Witter and Ora Floyd Witter planned to open a grocery in the building formerly owned by Mr. N. M. Marsh.(1) The grand opening was held Saturday, January 28, 1911. The new store was up-to-date and boasted an attractive meat market, as well as an outdoor light that was “a great benefit to the town” according to the Hinsdale newspaper column. Jay passed out pink carnations and cigars to visitors of the store. However, that same night, he and his brother Ora took the Erie train departing for New York City. Their brother-in-law, John DeBaum, had passed away, leaving their sister Myrtle a widow. (2)

He returned home on Tuesday, Jan. 31, 1911, and fell ill with quinsy and tonsillitis. (3) A week following the report of his travels to New York City, he was said to be “much improved” after being sick at home all week. (4) By the next day, however, black diphtheria had racked the Hinsdale community, shutting down schools and cancelling social gatherings of every description. Jay was found by Dr. Loughlin of Olean to have an unfortunately bad case of it, and his other sister Ruby had taken ill with it as well. In a late insertion to the news, the columnist sadly writes, “No hope is entertained for Mr. Witter at this hour.” (5)

The next day, at 2:30 a.m. on February 8, 1911, Jay Witter passed away in his home. Besides his brother and two sisters, he left his wife, three children with a fourth on the way, his mother, and many friends. (3)

Only three days later, the local news spoke optimistically of the epidemic’s containment due to strict quarantine efforts, noting that the schools were closed, church services were cancelled, and the Witter store was closed. (6) No more mention of the Witter grocery is found until March 20, 1911, when a small item ran stating that Ora Witter had sold the inventory off to Mr. Brown and Mr. Hogue of Maplehurst, and referring to the previous name, noting “the Marsh store will be closed again.” (7)

All citations are from the Olean Evening Times. (1) “Ladies’ Aid Gave Social. Baraca Society Entertained. – Other Hinsdale Items by Correspondent.” January 11, 1911. Page 3. (2) “Reception For Mrs. Leland. Occasion was Her Birthday Anniversary. –Other Hinsdale Notes.” January 30, 1911. Page 4. (3) “Five Deaths Reported. Jay A. Witter.” February 8, 1911. Page 4. (4) “Late News From Hinsdale.” February 6, 1911. Page 6. (5) “Black Diphtheria Is Epidemic. Hinsdale Suspends Social Activities – Schools May Close.” February 7, 1911. Page 4. (6) “Hinsdale Diptheria (sic) Cases. Patients Much Improved.—Death of Mrs. Burlingame.” February 11, 1911. Page 8. (7) “Happy Hinsdale’s Daily News Budget. Personal Happenings and Various Doings in Hustling Town.” March 20, 1911. Page 8.

When I put this story together, I inserted everything I found — including one detail that sticks out like a tin plate in a china shop.

However, that same night, he and his brother Ora took the Erie train departing for New York City. Their brother-in-law, John DeBaum, had passed away, leaving their sister Myrtle a widow.

Did Jay Witter pick up the bug on the train? Could he have brought the epidemic back from another part of New York State? And by the way, what caused John DeBaum’s death, and what happened to Myrtle?

I don’t know the answers to those questions.

We’ve all read books or seen movies where the story started in one direction, then veered off without resolving earlier leads. I’m not talking about well-executed red herrings, but rather details introducing questions that are never answered, leaving us asking, “Wait, what about…?”

Your readers will naturally assume every bit of information is included for a reason. If they determine that is not the case, they will be either confused or unsatisfied by the story. It’s not that the detail about Jay’s brother-in-law is uninteresting. It is simply tangential to the story. If we summarize the parts to a story we’ve covered in this series, we see that the superfluous fact doesn’t advance any of them.

Character: Jay Witter — family man, entrepreneur, contributor to the good of his town.
Conflict: A black diphtheria epidemic threatens Hinsdale.
Cost: Life, livelihood, and the well-being of the community.
Conclusion: Jay succumbed to the illness and Hinsdale lost him as well as the store.

At its heart, this is a tragedy about community, because gas lights and grocery stores are but one face of small town life. Epidemics and quarantines are another. Without information connecting it to this idea, the NYC trip simply doesn’t have a place in the story of the Witter Grocery.

A Word on Proofreading

If you clicked over to Mr. Laube’s article, you noticed the copyedits and proofreading came last. Even though little corrections are much easier than content changes, it only makes sense to tinker at the micro level — word choice, spelling, and punctuation — after the macro level of sentences and paragraphs has been finalized. Let me encourage you not to underestimate the importance of grammar in producing a piece of writing that is enjoyable for your family to read. You don’t want to bury all the work you’ve done under little mistakes or silted phrases.

I find reading out loud helps me slow down and catch things that don’t look or sound quite right. For example:

Sounds awkward: “Plans were announced in January 1911 that brothers Jay Ansley Witter and Ora Floyd Witter planned to open a grocery in the building formerly owned by Mr. N. M. Marsh.”

Better: “In January 1911, brothers Jay Ansley Witter and Ora Floyd Witter announced plans to open a grocery in the building formerly owned by Mr. N. M. Marsh.”

and

Sounds awkward: “…the columnist sadly writes…”

Better: “…the columnist reports sadly…”

See It With Fresh Eyes

I should point out that I wrote this piece about the Witter Grocery in December 2008, and none of this occurred to me at the time. I was simply eager to share what I’d pieced together about my ancestor. Now, however, I’m able to look at the same piece of writing and see where I can improve it.

You don’t have to wait years, but the time to edit is not as soon as you’ve written the first draft. You won’t see mistakes yet, because you know what you meant! Instead, put the piece away for a few days or weeks, then return to it with a little distance and forgetfulness. You want to approach it with fresh eyes to see if it flows well. Does everything sound as good as it did when you first put it down? Chances are, there are changes and tweaks you can make to sharpen your story.

That concludes A Genealogist’s Guide to Storytelling! Whether you’re participating in the Family History Writing Challenge this month or jotting down stories one at a time to preserve your family’s legacy, I hope this series has put some new tools in your storytelling toolbox!

Question for You

What are your plans for sharing your stories? Scrapbook or photo book? Blog? Family Facebook group? Tell me in the comments!

A Genealogist’s Guide to Storytelling: A Satisfying Conclusion

In this series, we’re talking about how to craft your genealogical research into engaging stories to share with family.

• The first post covers the facts, clues, and in-between bits that form the backbone of your story, and you can find it here.
• The second post discusses the character, conflict, and cost of your story, which you’ll find here.

Today we’ll look at how and when to end your stories. We’ve all had the experience of hearing or telling a story that seems to go nowhere. My sister occasionally ends her stories by saying, “And then I found five bucks.” It’s her funny way of saying, “I’ve got nothing else for you here,” but a well-planned conclusion will help prevent your stories from falling flat.

The Resolution: What It Is and Why It Matters

The natural arc of a story takes the shape of exposition, rising action, climax and resolution. Think about how you relate day-to-day occurrences in conversation. Consider this very generic example:

(Exposition) I was going about my day

(Rising Action) when I noticed something out of the ordinary.

(Climax) I acted in response

(Resolution) and everything returned to normal.

This sample story produces a very minor impact, because in the end, nothing changes. However, look how the example changes with each of these different resolutions:

… and nothing was ever the same again.

… and I’m still dealing with the fallout.

… and if I hadn’t, who knows what would have happened.

… and if I had it to do again, I’d do it differently.

… and I learned something I’ll never forget.

The resolution concludes the story, and to some extent, justifies the telling and gives it importance. Did your ancestor’s actions leave an impact on the community, the family, the following generation? How is the world different (or not) because these events happened? What insights or understanding can be gleaned from them?

Through the conflict, your ancestor/character leaves their beginning status behind. He or she has struggled and either prevailed or gone down in defeat. The conclusion of your story doesn’t have to be long or elaborate — it may a closing paragraph or only a sentence or two — but it should briefly address the ending status in relation to the beginning status. Consider that an ending status that is very different from the beginning status may show the magnitude of one seemingly small decision, and that an ending status that returns to the beginning state may show the futility of even the most valiant efforts.

Drawing Your Story to a Satisfying Conclusion

In books and movies, the conclusion ties up all the loose ends. However, we all know that life is more complex than that — and it was for our ancestors, too. There will be loose ends that can’t be tied, and while fairy tales often end with a wedding, family histories just as often can begin with one.

Finding the natural conclusion to a family story can be tricky. The first time I tried to write a family history narrative, I began with my Wells ancestors stepping off the boat and ended with… me. Needless to say, it didn’t make for fascinating reading. I had collected too few details and simply threaded together what I had learned chronologically. It wasn’t bad — but it also wasn’t a story. That rambling attempt was, at best, a timeline.

In my view, this generational approach breaks down because generation changes represent character changes. Each ancestor/character you highlight should have his or her own story. If you are able to link consecutive stories via births and bequests, do! But consider splitting them into chapters or vignettes to make them digestible for your readers.

Simply put, a resolution resolves. Whatever the conflict of your story is, the ending should be centered around that focus point. Last week, we discussed that the conflict links events in a meaningful way. The resolution to the story occurs naturally where that meaning hits home.

One closing note: genealogy research being as it is, you may not necessarily be able to discover the final outcome with absolute certainty. I’m usually tempted to end with a summary of my ancestor’s death, but that records the character’s end, not necessarily the conflict’s conclusion. (Not to mention that it gets pretty morbid!) You can close the story without the details of the outcome, as long as the lack of a conclusion is interesting, thought-provoking, or satisfying in its own way. Does an unsolved mystery or fractured relationship have lingering implications? Does the gap in information leave room to imagine how a story might have ended? Does the unknown element provoke something universal to the human condition?

Speaking of wrapping things up — next week we’ll conclude A Genealogist’s Guide to Storytelling with some editing notes for finishing your stories.

Question for You

Do you ever struggle with where one story ends and the next begins? How do you make that determination? Leave a comment with your thoughts on endings!

A Genealogist’s Guide to Storytelling: a Character, a Conflict, and a Cost

In this series, we’re talking about how to craft your genealogical research into engaging stories to share with family.

• The first post covers the facts, clues, and in-between bits that form the backbone of your story, and you can find it here.

Today we’re looking at the key components to a story. The research, impressions and suppositions you’ve gathered give you a good start, but in order to make it interesting, you will need a Character, a Conflict, and a Cost. To put it another way, successful stories tell of someone who does or experiences something with some significance.

Character

To convert research into stories, you must identify the characters.

Without people, events lack meaning and context. Even in national terms, we mostly vividly remember where we were when we heard the news. We make it personal. To tell interesting stories, we must do the same with our ancestors.

Find those people in your family tree whose personalities come through in the facts and impressions you’ve gathered. These people are your main characters, the centers of the action. By telling the story of one person, you focus on a perspective and allow your audience to identify with the character’s struggles, to understand and empathize with them.

In complex stories, you may have multiple sides of a story that you want to tell. Handle this by structuring your story in scenes, so that you can tell each ancestor’s part of the story in turn. Like a scene in a movie, you will cut away from one character’s part in the story to focus on another’s. Alternating in this manner will build tension and interest as well, whereas trying to tell multiple viewpoints concurrently will just create confusion for your reader or listener.

One important note: Even though you are the one telling this story, you must resist casting yourself as the main character.

I’ve been working on my own family history for about five years. I’ve discovered mounds of facts — dates and places and dry-as-dirt details — along with a comparatively few actual stories, cohesive happenings with a beginning, middle and end. As such, it’s tempting to tell the stories of how I discovered those facts, the great herculean lengths to which I have gone in my quest for… data.

But that’s boring.

It’s your ancestor’s story, and like any author, you will have to move out of the way to make it interesting.

Conflict

Quite simply, the conflict is the obstacle that your ancestor must overcome, whatever it may be. It is the question that they seek to answer with their lives. In your family history, the conflicts are the pivot points — the problems, the events, the moments that change everything for your ancestor.

The conflict drives interest in the character’s story. When you begin to tell about how your parents met, or a long-ago grandfather who settled a wild frontier, or the great-great uncle who robbed a bank, you want your audience thinking one thing — “What happens next?”

The conflict serves an important function in the story — it links events in a meaningful way. Although you might simply string together a list of known events in your ancestor’s life, an interesting dramatic narrative depends on showing both the problem and the character’s attempts to solve the problem.

This can take many forms, and it doesn’t have to be the defining moment of their lives. If it’s meaningful or entertaining, it can be the defining moment of a single afternoon.

Cost

What is lost if the main character, your ancestor, does not prevail over the conflict? What must he or she give up to succeed?

The cost — what’s really at stake in your story — is no longer about names or dates or even events. Rather, it’s about some basic struggle of humanity (of which there are any number — take your pick), and more importantly, it lets your modern audience connect with, and care about, your ancestor.

The cost can be stated but it is often implied. Though specific to the characters and their conflict, it can be summarized by broad themes that resonate deeply. Love. Sacrifice. Pride. Justice. Greed. Freedom. Grief. Joy. Fear. Redemption.

When you’ve identified the cost, it should answer the question: Why does the story matter? Your character is no longer just words on a page. He or she is a person with motivations and foibles, striving to meet the same basic desires that your audience experiences themselves. Even if it is not stated explicitly, understanding what’s at stake gives your audience an emotional investment in the outcome and a powerful connection with the story.

Unlike fiction, life doesn’t always, or even usually, wrap up with a neat, tidy ending. Next week, we’ll continue A Genealogist’s Guide to Storytelling by talking about the story’s conclusion.

Question for You

What challenges have you encountered in telling your family’s stories?

A Genealogist’s Guide to Storytelling: Facts, Clues, and the In-Between Bits

If you love genealogy, you might spend a fair amount of time baffled at your less-interested relatives. Aren’t they curious about their roots, their heritage? Don’t they care where they came from? Isn’t it fascinating to find out details about their ancestors’ lives?

In a word, no.

Unless you’ve been bitten by the genealogy bug, dusty old photos and crumbly old gravestones are not the height of entertainment, I’m sad to say. If you want to engage the rest of your family, you’ll need to frame your family history as a story. In this series, we’ll use storytelling principles to enrich our family histories — and maybe even spark some interest in those glazed-over relatives’ eyes.

Start with the Facts

I get it. You have endless pedigree charts and family group sheets and person profiles. Maybe there are a few really interesting ancestors for whom you’ve compiled whole dossiers. That’s good – that’s the backbone of your plot.

However, that’s all it is – a framework. You’re going to need to put some meat on those bones.  Luckily, a list of facts will encourage us to look for relationships between those facts even if none is explicitly stated.

I can think of no example that serves to illustrate the point better than that of my 4^th great-grand uncle, Hamilton Cornell. Here is a list of his facts, without any analysis. (Note: I have linked to Familysearch.org where most census images can be viewed for free, although my initial research source was Ancestry.com.)

• Birth: Between 1810-1844. Many conflicting dates reported.
• 1850: Lived in Troupsburg, Steuben county, NY with wife Chloe & five children.
• 1860: Lived in Matteson, WI with wife Henrietta & three children.
• 1865: Lived in Olmsted, MN with wife Eugenia & two children.
• November 1866: Summons for a complaint filed at Shawano county, WI by Heneriett Cornell.
• 1870: Lived in Oakland, Freeborn county, MN with wife Eugenia & four children
• 1875: Lived in Freeborn county MN with wife(?) I. E. and three children.
• 1880: Lived in Spruce Gulch, Dakota Territory with wife Eugenia, three children, and two boarders.
• 1900: Lived in Inyo county, CA alone.
• 1910: Lived in Anaheim, CA; enumerated twice. April 21-lived alone; May 4-lived with daughter’s family.
• 1914: Died in Anaheim, CA. (Information at this link researched by Linda Cornell Reese.)

Do you hear a story roiling to the surface? Your job is to tell it, not as a list with an overflow of dates and places, but in human terms.

A word of caution here. Fiction writers can use the tendency to look for patterns to their advantage in constructing a plot, but it can be a pitfall for family history writers, because we have to maintain contact with reality. Include the right facts to avoid drawing erroneous conclusions, and where assumptions and speculations begin to fill the gaps between facts, be careful not to cast guesswork as truth.

Move on to the Clues

When you started your genealogical odyssey, the first thing you did was start asking questions and gathering clues. Details, memories, family legends, general impressions. In some cases, even the thing no one knows (or is willing to talk about) can be a clue.

Then you started your research, and if your experience was anything like mine, you probably saw that not every clue is 100% accurate. However, armed with your facts, you can return to those early impressions and let them inform your storytelling.

One of the family legends I knew going in was the story that we were related to Ezra Cornell, the founder of Cornell University, and supposedly, his descendants could attend school there for free. (The blog Ithacating in Cornell Heights has the scoop on that here.) Still, it was definitely a story to take with a grain of salt, especially since I couldn’t find the link between our family and his.

Then I found an entry for Hamilton Cornell’s grandson and namesake in a digital copy of Landmarks of Steuben County (link requires subscription access; originally published 1896). The short paragraph makes mention of the family’s connection to Cornell University. Not so coincidentally, it was also mentioned in Hamilton Sr.’s obituary, published in an Anaheim CA newspaper in 1914. When I finally found the family tie, I had to laugh. I won’t take the space here to explain it, but it was what you might call “distant” 100 years ago. Today, I’m as related to Ezra Cornell as I am to anyone who might happen to read these words.

That a rumor crossed five generations to get to me is a testament to something worth interpreting. It’s a clue, and it informs the story of Hamilton Cornell with the braggadocio and smooth talking that I’ll just bet he was famous for.

Fill in the Gaps

And another thing, too. I’ve never seen a picture of him and don’t know if one exists, but I’d venture to guess that Hamilton Cornell was one handsome son of a gun, and if anyone ever got the better of him, it was by exploiting his obvious weakness for greener pastures, wherever they may lie.

Your histories will also have gaps, places where you can fairly project and suppose. The in-between bits are the places where you shade in the colors and details, as much as you can, to create interest for your audience.

Next week, we’ll continue A Genealogist’s Guide to Storytelling by talking about Character, Conflict, and Cost.

Question for You

Have you ever tried your hand at writing down your family’s stories? What was your experience? Leave a comment below!