How do I write biographical stories – an exemplary guide

All beginnings are difficult, especially when writing texts and telling one’s own experiences.

While in conversations, we find it easy to get into our topic because it has come up in communication. We have to think carefully about what we want to tell and why. This is the most challenging part of the whole process.

What we want to talk about comes from the images and films that keep popping up in our mind’s eye.

Very few people want to tell their entire life story over and over again or write a detailed autobiography.

It is primarily anecdotes, scenarios typical of the times and typical of the family, formative occurrences and experiences, and the like that come to mind again and again when we sit together with family or friends and talk.

A classic memory that many people from Christian-influenced countries carry with them, for example, is the memory of childhood Christmas.

But of course, there is much more: the school years, the rituals and strict laws in the parental home, the lifestyle, the emergence, progression and end of friendships, experiences and occurrences on journeys, at the start of a career, in professional life…., illnesses, life crises…, life patterns that constantly repeat themselves etc.

All these personal memories also hold information about the respective time and the spirit of the times. Something that also needs to be worked out.

Which memories are worth telling, we decided long ago. They are usually those stories we often tell at every suitable opportunity. But they can also be memories that often rise up in us but that we don’t share with anyone, for whatever reason.

Another question is why of all things, we keep remembering these incidents and experiences and feel compelled to tell about them or are emotionally affected by them and start thinking.

Perhaps we marvel at the development of the world, or we laugh at ourselves in another time.

Or maybe these memories shed light on individual formative experiences whose significance for our lives is not yet evident. Perhaps there is a hunch in the background that this singular or constantly repeating ritual or pattern was somehow important.

Often our experiences from decades ago are a contrast to the present world. Sometimes better, sometimes worse. But that’s not what matters. The otherness is the exciting thing, is the information to be passed on.

But the opposite is also exciting. According to the motto, “Some things never change!” memories can make us aware of patterns and astonish or even frustrate us.

But biographical stories should, of course, primarily have an entertainment value, though also an analytical and an informative aspect.

Step 1

Which memory carries a story?

Every memory carries a biographical story. This is an assertion that I would like to explain with examples.

An example:

I have an American friend, born like me in 1953, who always talks about how she had to learn to swim in the lake as a child in the wind, weather and cold. Every day in the summer! Each of the four siblings! But not in thunderstorms! She tells how much she hated it, but also how good she finds it in retrospect. As she talks about these experiences, she paints a picture of children shivering and the strict regimen of the bourgeois, tradition-conscious parental home. Then, she moves on to the daily trips to school, the school routine, the children’s domestic duties… This leads to the style of education of the middle class in 1950s America.

And I listen and am amazed to realise that although we belong to the same age group, we experienced a completely different childhood. The principle of her childhood was a sense of duty; the principle of my childhood was sportiness and possessions. So I find that very exciting.

This memory of learning to swim is a loose thread. But, if you pull on it, a biographical story comes out that tells something about childhood in 1950s America.

Another example:

A friend of mine born in East Germany in 1952 keeps talking about how she got her scar on her eyebrow. She ran into a swing when she was about five years old.

For years I didn’t know the story behind it. She apparently ran into a swing because she panicked and ran away from something. The reason was that she was invited into the nursery building by a carer. She had accompanied her mother to pick up her youngest brother, who, as the youngest child, had to spend his first three years, like she, week after week in this GDR childcare centre. What might she have experienced during her time that she reacted so panic-stricken? What is it about the weekly scripts and education in the GDR in general?

Do you recognise the story behind this memory?

The example scenario:

For this guide to writing biographical stories, I have chosen a topic that is probably familiar to many: Christmas.

Again and again, I talk about how the celebration of peace and love was not very peaceful in my childhood. It was mainly my mother who created stress and Christmas spirit in equal measure.

My memories are of Christmas Eve, when the baby Jesus brought presents three times; when I’ was conscientious that no one was offended because I didn’t appreciate their gift; when my mother cried because everything is too much for her…

My Christmas memories contain one or even several biographical stories.  

Step 2

How do I start?

There are different ways to start and different questions to ask. Here are some examples.

–I could describe an excerpt from a lovely, funny or horrible memory of a Christmas in the past: When my son was three years old, we were waiting for the Christkindl (the baby Jesus) while singing, “….then I’ll put the plate out, Niklaus will surely put something on it…”. At this point, my son shrieked: “Don’t put the plate out! Don’t put the plate out!” “But why not?” I asked him, perplexed. “The pirate ship won’t fit on it!” he cried rather exasperatedly. …

–I could ask myself what the magic of Christmas is for us adults, even though we don’t believe in Father Christmas or the Christkindl. My daughter-in-law is Thai and has been celebrating Christmas with our family for six years now in 2021. She asked what made Christmas so important to us. We told about the religious origin of the festival, but this no longer has any meaning for any of us. So what is it that always made her husband so sad and homesick on 24 December back in Thailand? We came to the conclusion that it is the childhood memories of wonderful mystical Christmas celebrations that we always want to revive. …

–I could tell you about how my family and I, even though we are only adults, re-enact the rituals of our childhood year after year. We are five adults, three of us almost 70 and two 40-year-olds, but four of us sit in the kitchen every Christmas Eve waiting for the Christkindl bell to ring in the Christmas room so we can go in….

–I could think about what people genuinely celebrate at Christmas these days. Most of them only vaguely remember the religious background of the festival. When the Corona pandemic raged in December 2020 and 2021, politicians and virologists urged people to limit contact so that Christmas could be celebrated as usual in the broader family circle. That’s how important Christmas is to Christian-minded people. But why? Nowadays, very few are active Christians or even true believers. That is why Father Christmas has replaced the Christkindl. Father Christmas stands for presents and is an invention of Coca-Cola. The Christkindl stands for the baby Jesus and the nativity cot. Does anyone still go to Christmas mass, originally the highlight of Christmas? I think what is celebrated today are the memories….

-I could tell you about a funny or sad or messed up Christmas in our family in the recent past. It was the Christmas of the swearing Christ child. We, the two senior women and the grown-up son, even the dog, waited outside the door for the senior of the family to light the candles on the tree and ring the little bell. When the bell rang, we were allowed to enter. This was our ritual that was repeated year after year. But instead of bells ringing, we heard the sounds of “Oh fuck! Shit!” We looked at each other in bewilderment! ….. When we finally were allowed to enter, “Silent Night…” rang out, but only three candles were burning on the rather lush tree. No one had thought to buy candlesticks. I am sure our roaring laughter could be heard all the way to the Christkindl or Father Christmas at the North Pole.

–I could describe what I feel when I sing “Silent Night…” today, unlike when I was a child, which is nothing, except that I can’t hit the note. It’s midnight mass. The lights in the church go out. The only light comes from the candles on the Christmas tree. It is quiet; people are mentally preparing themselves for what is about to happen. Then, the organ starts, and the people begin to sing: “Silent night, holy night …”. Even I, still a child at the time, sang all the verses by heart. Sixty years later, a similar scenario takes place in the living room, and the family sings “Silent Night…” and I also join in the singing. However, there is no longer this passion behind it. I try in vain to hit the right note and hope that the singing will soon be over. This song has lost its magic for me….

-I could quote someone who said something witty or wise… about Christmas. “I will honour Christmas in my heart and try to keep it in it all the year round” (quote Charles Dickens). It seems to me that every person who experienced Christmas in their childhood keeps that memory in their heart not just for a year, but for a lifetime. …

As you can see, there are countless ways to enter into a subject, into a story from your life.

-I have chosen to describe a scenario that takes place today with a child of the year 2021. Beginning of the story: The youngest member of my circle of friends, three-year-old Bobby, is almost bursting with excitement waiting for Father Christmas. And then, on Christmas Eve, redemption comes in the form of lights on the Christmas tree and presents underneath. Wishes come true, and you even get toys you didn’t ask for. Everyone unwraps something and is more or less surprised. There is good food and sweets. Everyone seems happy and content to the sounds of Christmas.

This will shape Bobby’s memory of Christmas, year after year.

Transition to my childhood memory: Christmas memories go back over 60 years, in the 50s and 60s. The excitement and anticipation of Christmas Eve, when the Christkindl comes, was also quite incredible in my childhood, but otherwise, there were small but subtle differences.

Step 3

From the general or universal of the time …

What rituals, legends, feelings, mood, thoughts, ideas, living conditions, attitudes, traditions, and customs prevailed in my childhood concerning this topic?

This step is about describing and portraying the time and the spirit of the times that is familiar to everyone of the same age, in which one’s own experiences are embedded. And maybe one recognises an external or internal change, a small or big difference to the present.

Christmas was mystical for me, because to us children of the 50s came the Christkindl. Who it was and what it looked like, nobody really knew. A mixture of baby Jesus and an angel? There was a story that he flew in, conveniently through the window, and quickly put the presents under the Christmas tree. There was also the rumour that when curious children peeped through the keyhole at the door of the Christmas room, which was usually the living room or, in our case, the kitchen, to catch a glimpse of the Christkindl, he would take the presents away again. A very nasty threat. That’s why I pinched my eyes shut while waiting for the Christkindl so that I wouldn’t accidentally catch a glimpse of it.

Yet, as a child, you most likely had already seen the Christkindl at the nativity play that every self-respecting kindergarten or school put on. The newborn Christkindl, in the form of a baby doll or wax figure, lay in the cot and was called baby Jesus. Our Christmas was a Christian festival in Bavaria in the 1950s. The search for shelter by Mary and Joseph; the newborn Jesus in the stable surrounded by his parents and adoring shepherds; also, the star of Bethlehem and the visit of the Three Oriental Kings Kaspar, Melchior and Balthasar were staged as an annual play for parents and children in the kindergarten, at school and in church. Almost every child was able to get a part to play. If the acting talent was not good enough to play Mary and Joseph, then at least it was enough to play the ox and the donkey. That way, they didn’t have to learn any lines.

The meaning of the feast became apparent to a child. It was the birthday of the baby Jesus, and on birthdays you get presents, in this case representing Jesus.

There was no Father Christmas who gave out presents for no reason at all and didn’t even ask if you had earned them by being good. Instead, St. Nicholas, who paraded through the streets with his servant Rupprecht on the evening of 5 December, attached great importance to the assurance that one had been good throughout the year and had not indulged one’s weaknesses such as excessive use of a dummy or food nagging. There were even witness interviews in the family circle. Knecht Rupprecht threatened to put children who had not been good throughout the year into the sack he had brought with him. Whereas St. Nicholas was prepared to hand over goodies and gifts if he was persuaded. This bearded man with a bishop’s mitre was the forerunner of the Christkindl. He could be seen and touched, feared and loved, and sometimes he bore an amazing resemblance to an uncle or family friend. However, he would often leave his gifts outside the door and ring the doorbell. Usually, this happened just when Dad had just gone down to the cellar to get a beer.

Yes, those were the fascinating, mysterious Christmas legends of my childhood. Is there a conclusive legend about Father Christmas from the North Pole? I don’t know.

Step 4

… to the special (the core of the narrative) or individual at that time.

This step could look at the specific, typical, individual incident in one’s own childhood from the naïve perspective of the child.

But then, as now, the lowest common denominator of Christmas was and is the family celebration!

Even my rather quarrelsome family made every effort to keep something like Christmas peace, which sometimes led to strange rituals.

In the first years of my life, I remember that Christkindl came a total of three times on Christmas Eve. It was practically mainly occupied with me and my gifts.

When it was just getting dark, the assembled family would send me out of my maternal grandmother’s kitchen into the freezing bedroom because the adults had heard the soft tinkling of the angels accompanying the Christkindl outside the window. And lo and behold, the little bell rang out shortly afterwards. The radio played “Silent Night, Holy Night…”. The candles on the wonderfully decorated Christmas tree lit up. The sparklers, which are forbidden nowadays, gave off sparks. There was the smell of pine needles, wax and sparklers. And because of my amazement and awe, I almost forgot that there were toys for me under the tree. When I had recovered from the shock and wanted to start playing, everything had to be packed up because the next station was two doors down.

The Christkindl had already arrived before us at my paternal grandparents’ house. While we were still on our way upstairs to grandma and grandpa’s, “Silent Night, Holy Night…” was already ringing through the hallway. And again, the Christmas tree was shining, and sparks were flying in the kitchen. Again there were toys and this time also clothes underneath. It smelled of candles and pine needles here too. I was suitably amazed again, but no longer so surprised, and got my hopes up for being allowed to play a little.

But no! As before, everything was packed up again. Then we drove home to the flat that my parents and I lived in together on weekends. During my first years, my father was away on a work assignment during the week. My mother worked as a saleswoman from early to late. So I lived with my grandmother. But at Christmas, we were together in our flat, and here was the ultimate gift-giving. This time we were quicker on the scene than the Christkindl. But my parents had this seventh sense that it must be coming soon. And lo and behold, “Silent night, holy night…”; candles and sparklers on the tree; presents under the tree. All the familiar rituals were performed again. However, a third time, I could not bring myself to marvel excessively. It was nice to be able to play and eat sweets in peace. My mother had the gift of preparing beautiful lavish Christmas plates. She also took the trouble to hang biscuits, colourful candy and chocolate stars in the tree. It was like a land of milk and honey for me.

It’s fair to ask why we had this present-giving marathon during my toddler years. I can only explain it like this.

Step 5

Explanation and background

In the world of memories, protagonists appear who are special characters, but also children of their time with their own history and their own perspective on events.

Society and the historical background form the framework of this scenario.

Therefore, it is usually necessary and helpful if there is a characterisation of the most important actors and their relationship and if the historical background is portrayed.

However, care should be taken not to stray and start a new story, so to speak.

In my Christmas memoir, my mother and the competition between her and her mother-in-law play a role. The time is reflected in the working world of a textile saleswoman and the consumer frenzy of the 50s and 60s. Photographs support this information more vividly than descriptions.

All-knowing first-person narrator from today’s perspective: My mother was a textile saleswoman in a clothing shop and therefore had to work until 2 pm on Christmas Eve. In the previous four weeks of Advent, the Saturdays had been so-called “long Saturdays”. This meant that the shops were open until 6 pm six days a week. Usually, in the 50s and 60s, shops had to close at noon on Saturdays. But only once a month were they allowed to stay open until evening. But at Christmas, people were supposed to have enough time to shop for all they were worth. Oh, joyous consumer world! But the shop assistants had to cope with the shopping madness of the years of the economic miracle. So they stood in the shops until the bitter end, in this case until early afternoon on 24 December, and served stressed Christmas gift shoppers at the last minute. Today, opening hours are extended and made possible by shift work. Back then, the Christmas extravaganza was simply part of the job.

So while my father and I passed the time at my grandparents’ house and developed a Christmas feeling over biscuits, stollen and storytelling, my mother sold shirts, ties and socks that were bound to end up under the Christmas tree. We were all relaxed and looking forward to Christmas, and then my mother arrived! Restlessness and stress on two legs! She could have left the organisation of Christmas Eve to one of the grandmothers, but that was not in her nature. For better or worse, she now wanted to stage the ideal Christmas with peace and shining children’s eyes following her ideas. Everyone else, however, didn’t want to be nagged and did their own thing. So it came to pass that I had to go Christmas-hopping at its best. That was exciting in itself and the Christmas of that time is a magical memory. In one of those Christmas home kitchens, we had sausages with sauerkraut and Schwarzer-Kipferl (special crusty rolls from the Schwarzer bakery) followed by a punch for the adults. I don’t remember exactly where it was because I didn’t give a damn. The main thing was Christmas!

But there was another reason for this triple Christmas special: jealousy! The two poles that repelled each other were my mother and her mother-in-law, that is, my paternal grandmother. While my mother tried to put herself and her own mother, who just wanted to relax and enjoy her peace and quiet, in the foreground of the Christmas theatre, my paternal grandmother relentlessly complained about being left behind. It was essential to her that her gifts to me were associated with her; that she was the exclusive beneficiary of the children’s beaming eyes; and that the ambience was designed according to her ideas.

There was, therefore, only one solution to maintain Christmas peace, namely separate Christmases.

A few years later, at the beginning of the 1960s, when I was about 9 or 10 years old, Christmas peace was often not good. My parents now owned a modern three-room flat with a living room. That’s why all the grandparents met at our house on Christmas Eve. No more Christmas hopping! But my mother was still working in sales and came home exhausted and stressed out in the afternoon. Ideally, she would have needed some peace and quiet first. But the happy grandparents arrived almost at the same time. They were all expecting a peaceful and harmonious Christmas atmosphere, thus stressing my mother even more. Palpable tensions were smouldering! But my mother always managed to get through the whole Christmas programme. The scandal usually came after the presents had been given. Obviously, the jealous ladies had been eyeing each other to see if there were any reasons to be jealous. Jealous of better gifts, jealous of joy over a gift, jealous of anything.

I learned to show as much joy as possible with each gift; to turn on the sparkle in the eyes; to find appreciative words; to look at each present for the same length of time, and treat it with mindfulness. I also listened with interest to my grandmother’s explanations of the quality and costliness of her gifts. Finally, I affirmed that I was thrilled that exquisite bed linen could now again be added to my dowry, the value of which I appreciated very much.

Well, peace before sincerity!

Step 6

Conclusion of this biographical story

The end of a biographical story can again be arranged in quite different ways.

-You could mentally jump into today’s time and describe differences as well as similarities.

Today, gifts play only a secondary role in my family. The most important thing for us is being together and the excellent food we celebrate for days on end. ….

-Provoke

In 2020 and 2021, the pre-Christmas season was severely restricted due to the Corona pandemic. There were no Christmas markets and concerts and few Christmas parties. The Advent spirit of preparation for the actual festivities was practically non-existent. That’s when I first noticed that it’d been a long time since choirs have sung Christmas carols after the evening news on Sundays during Advent. I used to love that, and now I don’t even miss it. Could we do away with Christmas altogether and introduce a more extended winter sale instead?

-Lessons learned from one’s own childhood experiences.

My childhood experiences of Christmas meant that there was only one gift-giving in our home for my son, that the Christkind brought everything…..

-Wishes for the future and critical remarks

I wish the meaning of Christmas had not been lost…..(No moralistic finger-pointing!!)

-Past and present traditions: I have now experienced many very different Christmases. When I was a student and lived in a shared flat, we celebrated without a Christmas tree but with a Christmas goose cooked up while playing cards. Then, of course, when my son was little, the magical Christmas spirits came back to life. Later, I spent many a Christmas alone, but that didn’t bother me much. My son, who is now grown up and has lived in Asia for a few years, remembers that his heart was always heavy at Christmas and that he would have liked to be with his parents – father, stepmother and mother. Today it is like that. We have our own rituals, which are pretty international. We have a Bavarian Christmas Eve with sausages and potato salad and presents under the Christmas tree, brought by the Christkind according to the old tradition. In the good old American tradition, we raid our Christmas stockings filled with trinkets together in our dressing gowns on Christmas Day. The American stepmother and I cook the American turkey dinner all day, which we then eat ceremoniously in the evening. And finally, for the past six years, our Thai daughter-in-law has been cooking some delicious Thai food on Boxing Day.

We are all huge fans of our international Christmas.

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These examples are only suggestions but do not claim to be complete.

This part of the text must be much shorter in relation to steps 4 and 5 so that no new story is created. However, if the memories bubble up, you can conceive another biographical tale, possibly with a different focus.

It is essential for writing and reading that one does not pack everything, every detail, every marginal phenomenon… into a story. To leave a gap in this story does not mean that you leave something out, but that you possibly put it in the centre of another story.

Pointing out alternatives:

This construction of a biographical story in six steps is one possibility of many types of storytelling. Memories of everyday life, customs, etc., can be written entertainingly.

-You can also tell about a constantly repeating pattern in life chronologically by describing only episodes in which this pattern comes into play.

-One can also tell of a crisis and a turning point in life.

In such a case

-the crisis could be at the beginning of the story (1),

-the way there (2) would be described in retrospect and

-the exit (3) from the crisis would have to follow,

-before assessing the events from today’s perspective (4).

These suggestions are starting points or a framework that must be adapted to the narrator and memory.

The best thing is to read through our stories under these aspects mentioned here. Then, perhaps you will come up with entirely new ideas for telling your biographical tale.

We would be happy to hear them. Of course, we are always available for questions and requests for feedback via e-mail rememberrelatereflect@gmail.com