Storytelling for Genealogist

The simplest title, yet the best advice I’ve encountered in a long time. Whether hobbyist or professional, why do we spend countless hours researching and collaborating with others to uncover our ancestors’ lives? Is it so the research can sit in a file somewhere, satisfying our curiosity that we’ve traced our line back to nobility or mapped every branch six generations deep? No, that’s not why most of us do it. For many of us, the drive is deeper: to learn where we came from, to understand who we are, and to connect with the men and women who brought us to this point—whether they contributed only DNA or so much more.

To learn that, we must uncover their stories. Hopefully, we’re lucky enough to see their faces, touch items they once held, or visit the places they lived. But what good is it if all that effort remains locked away in a file? Are we really doing this just for ourselves, or is there a storyteller inside each of us, desperate to bring these narratives to life?

I know I have a storyteller inside of me, and it’s been screaming to be set free. Yet, here I am, with my ancestors’ stories sitting in files and only bits and pieces shared on my blog. Why? Fear. Fear of rejection. Fear that no one will enjoy my books. Fear that no one will feel the same thrill I do when imagining these stories, or see the vivid images I envision. Well, no more.

I’ve started writing my first book about my Romani ancestors. Their story is extraordinary: from dusty wagon roads to houses on a reservation, from alliances forged in love and marriage to bloodshed over lost love, from the honor and intrigue of a fascinating people to the discrimination and misunderstanding they endured. It’s a story that deserves to be told.

Recently, I received Storytelling for Genealogists: Turning Family Lineage into Family History by Doug Tattershall to review. The timing couldn’t have been better. I was 80 pages into my manuscript, struggling. I had all the facts and smaller stories that make up the whole, but I couldn’t find a way to make them flow naturally from beginning to end. Writing blog posts since 2009, I’ve mastered telling individual stories, even ones I enjoy revisiting, but weaving 200 years of history and multiple generations into a cohesive narrative? That’s a different game, and I felt like the rookie fumbling the ball.

Doug’s book was a game-changer. One critical piece of advice that struck me was the importance of creating a hook. Of course, I had the perfect hook: the murder of a young bride by her brother-in-law after a heated argument about their deceased mother’s kitchen utensils. Why didn’t I think of that? If that doesn’t pull a reader in, nothing will! Armed with this revelation, I went back to the drawing board. With Doug’s guidance, I restructured the beginning, and even I was eager to keep writing.

Next, I revamped my outline. My original outline was serviceable, helping me organize facts and details about the characters. But compared to the hook, it suddenly felt lifeless. Doug emphasized the importance of a theme, and that’s where I’d fallen short. My topic—Romani people—was clear, but it wasn’t a theme. Inspired, I worked to identify the theme, and it emerged naturally in the form of chapter titles that reflected the journey of these people, both literal and metaphorical. With a hook, a solid theme, and a reimagined outline, I was more excited than ever to create a book anyone, even non-descendants, would enjoy.

Doug’s advice didn’t stop there. He showed me how to enhance the story by adding context to my research. How can you create vivid imagery of a character’s time and place if you don’t understand it fully? You need to bring your readers to that dusty road where your ancestor sat astride his horse, tasting the grit of dust in his mouth and squinting through watering eyes at a distant figure growing larger on the horizon. That level of detail transforms facts into an immersive experience.

What I loved most about Doug’s book is that he doesn’t just tell you how to write compelling stories—he shows you. He offers examples of great storytelling and even builds narratives from the simplest details, like a name, date, and location. His examples illuminate both the art and the pitfalls of storytelling.

If you’re considering this daunting yet rewarding journey of turning genealogical research into stories, Storytelling for Genealogists is a must-read. My only regret is not having this book sooner—it would have saved me a lot of rewrites! So dust off those binders of family history, pick up a copy of Doug’s book, and start crafting stories that resonate far beyond your own family tree.