Autobiography

Your life, written like a novel.

You tell your story, out loud or in writing, one question at a time. Pizan writes it: a real writer's hand that keeps your words and the way you say things, and shapes them into parts and chapters. A book you read in one sitting.

Start for free See a spread

On your computerand tablet

iPhone and Android apps: coming soon

9:41

Later

Tonight's question

Which decision changed everything?

0:42 · Listening…

Type instead

Example · The Clear Years, by Sophie Martin

Free to start
Printed in the USA, delivered to your door
Private by default
Hosted in Europe
Phone, tablet, computer
Nothing made up

A spread

A story, not an album.

Sample photos and text.

Part two · Leaving

Chapter nine

Rue des Martyrs

“You don't choose where you start. You only choose not to stay there.”

The Clear Years

The flat was on the fifth floor of rue des Martyrs, with no lift: eighteen square metres, a window onto the rooftops and a radiator that worked every other day. I had found it through a card pinned up in a bakery, and the landlady, a very upright woman who wore gloves to count banknotes, looked at me for a long time before handing over the key. I think she had guessed I was lying about my salary. I didn't have a salary.

I had just failed my exams. I found out on a Thursday, from a noticeboard, surrounded by other girls who were crying or laughing too loudly, and I walked all the way back to Pigalle feeling nothing, as if the news concerned someone else. I hadn't told a soul. Not even my mother, who wrote every week, one-page letters in the same slanting hand, to ask whether I was eating enough and whether I'd remembered to wear a jumper.

I was eating pasta. In the evenings, when the street had quietened down, I opened the window and sat on the sill, legs inside, listening to the city rise up to me: shutters being pulled down, a piano somewhere, the arguments in the building opposite. I felt I was exactly where I should be, and that nothing had started yet. It's a feeling I have never found again since, and one I wish for both of you.

Spring came all at once. I found work in a bookshop on the boulevard, whole days shelving books I had no time to read, and on Saturday nights I met Claire and the others in a café on place des Abbesses where you could stay for hours over a single glass. We talked about everything we were going to do. None of us did it, or not the way we imagined, and that is just as well. And yet I'm fairly sure I was happy.

Pizan's pen

A real writer's hand, and it's your voice.

A story, not a questionnaire
Your answers become a continuous narrative: parts, chapters, transitions, a beginning and an end.
Your voice, intact
Pizan keeps your expressions, your turns of phrase, your humour. You're recognisable on every page.
Nothing made up
Not a name, a date or a place. Whatever is missing stays a question, put to you.
A real book
Twenty, thirty chapters or more: a thick book that reads like a novel, carefully printed.

The app

Your book, in your pocket.

Four screens, that's all. Pizan walks you through every step, so you never have to wonder what comes next.

9:41
Today's photos
12 photos · 3 selected

Tell the story of these 3
01
Pick your photos
Today's, a whole trip's, or old prints snapped flat on the table. The original is kept untouched, in full resolution.
9:41
Later

Tonight's question
Which decision changed everything?

0:42 · Listening…
Type instead
02
Tell it out loud
One question at a time. Talk as you would to someone close; Pizan listens. Or type, if you prefer.
9:41
‹ The bookEdit

1995
Fifth floor, no lift
The flat was on the fifth floor of rue des Martyrs, with no lift: eighteen square metres and a radiator that worked every other day. I had just failed my exams and hadn't told a soul, not even my mother, who wrote every week to ask whether I was eating enough. I was eating pasta. In the evenings I opened the window onto the rooftops and listened to the city rising up to me. And yet I'm fairly sure I was happy.

Written in your words
RewriteApprove
03
Pizan writes the page
In your words, never inventing a name, a date or a place. Fix anything with a tap; the page lays itself out.
9:41
1995
Fifth floor, no lift
The flat was on the fifth floor of rue des Martyrs, with no lift: eighteen square metres and a radiator that worked every other day. I had just failed my exams and hadn't told a soul, not even my mother, who wrote every week to ask whether I was eating enough. I was eating pasta. In the evenings I opened the window onto the rooftops and listened to the city rising up to me. And yet I'm fairly sure I was happy.
Share this book

WitnessTells the story of a photo
ContributorSuggests photos and stories
Co-editorArranges the pages with you

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04
Share and invite
A link over WhatsApp, text or email. Everyone adds their photos and what they remember.

On a computer

The big edit, on your computer.

Start on your phone, finish on your computer or tablet: same account, same book, always up to date, right in the browser.

The real spread, exactly as it will be printed
Drop in photos from your computer, all at once
Styles, layouts, stickers, cover, spine and edge
Every change saved, so nothing is ever lost

On your computerand tablet

iPhone and Android apps: coming soon

The Clear YearsSavedClose

Pages 2–3 of 48

1995

Fifth floor, no lift

The flat was on the fifth floor of rue des Martyrs, with no lift: eighteen square metres and a radiator that worked every other day. I had just failed my exams and hadn't told a soul, not even my mother, who wrote every week to ask whether I was eating enough. I was eating pasta. In the evenings I opened the window onto the rooftops and listened to the city rising up to me. And yet I'm fairly sure I was happy.

StyleLayoutPhotosStickersText

How many pages for this memory?

12suggested3

Layout

Cover

Pizan's pen

You said it. Pizan wrote it.

You talk the way you talk: hesitations, detours, the odd “anyway”. Pizan turns it into a page of a book, without taking anything away from you.

What you said

So… the flat, it was on rue des Martyrs, fifth floor, no lift. Eighteen square metres, I think. The radiator worked every other day, honestly. And I'd just failed my exams, and I hadn't told anyone, not even my mum. I lived on pasta. But it's funny, I was happy, really.

Sophie, out loud, 1 min 40

What Pizan wrote

Same facts, same words, same voice. Pizan puts things in order, tightens, and lets your sentences breathe. You read it over, you correct it, you have the final say.

Contents

4 parts · 24 chapters · 312 pages

Part one · Where I come from

The house on rue Basse
My father on Sundays
My mother's silences
The school by the lime trees
Summers at my grandmother's
The first loss

Part two · Leaving

Seventeen
The exams
Rue des Martyrs
The friends of those years
My first job
What Paris taught me

Part three · Building

Lyon, 2003
The workshop
Your father
The two of you
The lean years
What we came through

Part four · Now

Fifty
What remains
What I regret
What I'd do again
Letters to my children
To close

Write your autobiography, like a novel — “I wrote it for them. I came to understand my own life.”
Sophie Martin, about The Clear Years (example)

How it works

You tell it, Pizan writes it.

01
One question at a time
“Your earliest memory?”, “A decision that changed everything?”: start with whatever comes, in any order.
02
Answer the way you talk
Out loud, as you would to someone close, or in writing. Pizan then asks the questions that are missing.
03
The story takes shape
Pizan writes each chapter and puts them in the order of your life. You read, you correct, and the book is printed.

Inside the book

What you can add.

A foreword
Photos from every period
Your letters and notebooks
A timeline of your life
A letter to each of your children
A copy for each of them

Everything Pizan does

Everything Pizan does for you.

Talk instead of type
Dictation, or a real spoken conversation: Pizan asks, you tell.
Questions that bring it back
Pizan looks at the photo first, then only asks what it can't work out.
The story gets written
Your words turned into a story, nothing made up. What nobody knows yet stays a question for the family.
A real book layout
A proper layout chosen for each memory. Everything stays editable, by finger or by mouse.
Made-to-measure covers
An illustrated cover from your own photos, with spine and edge.
The photo Studio
New photos of you made from yours: a wedding portrait, the whole family together. Faces and outfits kept.
Books found for you
In the app, Pizan spots a trip or a summer in your photos and suggests the book. Nothing is sent without your OK.
Puzzle pages
Crosswords with family names, quizzes, spot-the-difference on a family photo. Answers at the back.
Tree and timeline
The family tree and a timeline of the years, so everyone can find their way.
Book or magazine
A beautiful book to keep for life, or a light magazine to slip through a letterbox.
Your originals, untouched
Never edited or compressed, kept in full resolution on servers in the European Union.
In nine languages
English, French, German, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, Portuguese, Japanese, Korean: your account and each of your books can have its own language.

Pricing

Free to start, printed whenever you like.

Starting is free: your first chapters, the layout.
Order the printed book whenever you like.
For Pizan to write more each month: a plan from $3.90 a month, no commitment.
Printed and delivered in 19 to 25 days. Card payment, secured by Stripe.
For Christmas, order by November 24.

Questions