Writing, Scrapbooking, Podcasting My Family History
With any family history research there will be times when the only records you have are a list of dates, names and places. Hardly the material need for a story that will encourage your family to feel connected with. The sort of connection that Theophilus Adcock provided! Without records we must fall back on what we do know. Oral stories, photographs, intuition & assumptions all have their place in a writers imagination. Trust yourself and write from your heart.
The dictionary tells me I am a genealogist because I am person who traces or studies lines of family descent. But, like many others who have surrounded themselves with dates, names, records, photos and dog eared scraps of paper, we are so much more! When your are a family historian the emphasis is always on the word, "family". Medically we are connected by our DNA. But it is the life stories we uncover that makes a real family!
After my first blog failed miserably I made the decision to find something else to write about. For some reason "Fermentation" was going to be it! SEO was perfect, monetization was practical and my chosen new theme was perfect, if a little expensive! There were two problems to this well researched choice. I don't like fermented food and I live on a boat where space is at a premium! So, here I am doing what I have been quietly doing most of my life, writing stories. Only this time the stories are not hidden away in boxes!
I was warned by experienced family researchers that once I started my family tree I would become addicted! They were right. Writing stories, finding connections and stalking my family members (both near and far) for snippets of information have become all consuming. So much so that I have had to devise a way to chill out. Sitting back with my feet up, a cup of coffee close by and a TED Talk was my solution. The topic? What else, Family History!
I'm pretty sure I hold the record for procrastinating. Even as a senior citizen I remember starting to "write a book" when I was 12 years old. I was the heroine of the story and my name was Molly Molone! The opening scene was me pushing a barrow which was obviously a memory I "borrowed" from my mother.
Warts And All 