Tell RosaOne moment
Tell RosaOne moment
Talk about your life with Rosa — a kind, curious host who listens carefully and follows what you say — in your own words and at your own pace. Together you decide what to record, and it becomes something your family can keep.
There’s no rush. You can pause whenever you like, and a younger relative or friend is welcome to sit with you while you record. Rosa isn’t a real person — but she’s been built to feel like a good one.
From the free trial: one chapter of your book — an hour with Rosa about your childhood, written up in your own words and kept as a PDF. A full story ends up with:
The main page is one big chat with Rosa. You tell her what you’d like to do — record a short piece, plan a longer autobiography in chapters, share a photograph, or just talk while she gets to know you — and she takes it from there. No forms, no menus to navigate.
Five steps, and you can stop after any of them with what you’ve made so far still yours. Move along it with the buttons underneath — or, in a conversation, just ask Rosa where all this is heading and she’ll bring the same picture up beside her.
This is everything, beginning to end. You can stop at any point along it, and whatever you have made by then is already yours.
Most people spend their first few visits simply talking. There is no schedule, and nothing further along the path is waiting on you.
You start by talking to Rosa. If you’re not sure what you want to do, just say so — she’ll explain the options out loud. When you’re ready to record, she’ll ask whether you’d like the camera on or just your voice, and guide you through it. When you’d rather plan first, she’ll help you sketch chapters before you commit to recording one. When you want to share a photograph of someone you’re talking about, you can take a picture with your phone or email it to her, and she’ll bring it into the conversation.
Every finished video is yours alone. We don’t share it with anyone, and we don’t hand out share links — if you want to share it with family, you do that yourself with the file you’ve downloaded (cloud drive, USB stick, email). Ask Rosa to show you your recordings and she’ll bring up the list with download buttons.
Every finished recording, photo, and note stays until you ask Rosa to remove it — one sentence (“please delete that last recording”) is enough. Two things do tidy themselves away. If you record a chapter twice and choose which take to keep, the other take goes after seven days (you can change your mind any time before then). And the raw sound or video of a conversation you walked away from — left untouched for a week and never saved as a recording — is deleted a month after that; what you said is kept, in its transcript and in everything it added to your story and your book. If you’d rather close your account here, you can ask her to do that too.
We’re a recording studio, not a vault: the copy that matters is the one you download and hand over. Whatever is still sitting in your account isn’t something your family can ask us for later — so don’t leave the only copy with us. Download your videos while you’re well, put them where your family already looks (a cloud drive they can open, a USB stick in the drawer with the photo albums), and tell someone they exist. A recording nobody knows about can’t be found.
A small fixed opening (your name, who you’re recording for) and then an unfolding conversation. Rosa is warm and curious — not a therapist and not a journalist. She asks one thing at a time, listens carefully, and follows what you actually said.
If you come back for a second sitting, Rosa picks up where she left off — the family names you mentioned, the places that mattered, the stories you’ve already covered. You don’t have to re-introduce yourself.
During a recording on camera, Rosa glances at how you look and passes on a quiet note if something’s distracting in the final picture — bright light behind you, microphone covering your chin, that sort of thing. She stays out of the way otherwise.
Every interview also produces the words themselves, in three shapes: a plain text transcript, a printable keepsake laid out like a small book — cover photo, chapters, one button to print it or save it as a PDF — and a family kit that keeps the whole conversation on one page beside the recording. Ask Rosa for any of them, or find them next to each recording. The words outlive the recording: even if you delete it, its transcript stays.
You can take a picture with your phone (or pick one from your photo library) and Rosa will bring it into the conversation — she might ask who that is, or where it was taken. If you take a picture of an old photograph, she’ll do her best to crop out the table and the room around it so just the photograph is left.
You don’t have to do this alone. If a relative or friend wants to sit with you while you record, send them this invite — it opens your email with everything ready to go.
Setting this up for a parent? Here’s a short guide for families.
It’s free to try while we get ready: an hour with Rosa about your childhood, and one chapter of your book to keep as a PDF. Paid stories — for yourself, or as a gift for someone you love — are coming soon. See the prices and get told when they’re ready.
There are no menus to learn. Say any of these out loud, in your own words, and Rosa takes it from there. You do not need to remember them — asking “what can you do?” during a conversation works just as well, and she will suggest whatever fits the moment.