I describe myself as a husband, father of five, and wearer of fedoras. That line captures my priorities and a bit of my quirkiness (or weirdness, as my teenagers would say).
I've spent more than twenty years in marketing — building agencies, serving as a CMO, consulting for companies and nonprofits, co-hosting a tech podcast. And somewhere along the way I realized that every job I've ever had was secretly the same job: helping people tell their stories.
Why I built this
This one actually starts in college. I watched a documentary called "Homeless Man: The Restless Heart of Rich Mullins," and it did a number on me. I came out the other side obsessed — with Rich Mullins' music, sure, but I read the books and hunted down every video about him I could find. What really got me, though, was the storytelling. The film gathered up the voices of people who knew him and wove them together until you didn't just learn about the man — you felt who he was. I had never seen a life captured so meaningfully, and I've wanted to recreate that magic ever since.
Fast-forward twenty-some years. I kept noticing the same pattern, in two very different places.
The first is the hard one. When someone we love passes away, the stories come pouring out. At the memorial, in the kitchen afterward, in the long car rides home — the best stories anyone has ever told about that person get told once, out loud, to whoever happens to be in the room. And then they're gone. Nobody was recording. Nobody thought to ask. The people who carry those stories scatter back to their lives, and the stories scatter with them.
The second one I see every week in my work with nonprofits. Organizations full of people with remarkable stories — volunteers, members, women who fought their way through tech careers, kids whose lives got turned around — and no easy way to capture any of it. Asking someone to "send us a video" means apps, accounts, file sizes, and friction. So the stories stay untold.
Both problems have the same root: the stories are there. Nobody's asking in a way that makes answering easy.
So I made asking easy
MyStoryAbout gives you a link and a QR code. Anyone can open it on their phone, see your questions, and record their story in about ninety seconds — no app, no account, no password. The video lands directly in your own Google Drive, not on our servers. Your stories belong to you, completely, forever.
And it's free. Video hosting is what makes tools like this expensive, and we never store your video — so I don't have to charge you to help your family or your community remember what matters.
That documentary I saw in college was made by professionals with cameras and a budget. The magic, though, wasn't the production — it was the gathered voices. MyStoryAbout is my attempt to put that magic in everyone's hands: to let any family, any organization, any community weave the voices of the people who knew someone into the story of who they are.
The rest of my story
When I'm not building this, I'm doing marketing consulting, co-hosting the Tech Talk Y'all podcast, helping nonprofits adopt AI, and reading for an hour every single day (yes, I track it in a spreadsheet — I'm a nerd). I co-founded 48in48, a nonprofit that builds websites for nonprofits, and I write contrarian marketing and leadership ideas at adamjwalker.com. Mostly, though, I'm at a loud dinner table with my wife and kids, where the best stories I know get told.
That table is really why this app exists. Every family has one. Every community does too.
Someone you love has a story you've never heard. Ask for it.
— Adam Walker, founder