HELLO!

My Philosophy is that podcasting doesn’t have to be  complicated. With the right workflow, you  can spend less time managing the backend and more time creating conversations that matter.

NICE TO MEET YOU

I'm Steph Shoell

an audiobiographer and professional podcast producer.

My career has always centered on recording meaningful conversations. I began podcasting in 2017 as a creative outlet, and over time it grew into a profession, with a focus on B2B podcasting. Along the way, I realized something important: not every story is meant to be published or shared publicly. Some are meant to be preserved.

Between producing podcasts for work and creating my own series, I’ve recorded over 1,000 interviews, refining the art of asking thoughtful questions and creating space for people to share stories they may have never said out loud.

Before podcasting became my full-time career, I spent several years working in assisted living, where I learned the power of slowing down, listening deeply, and honoring life experiences. That foundation continues to shape how I show up in every conversation.

Today, I combine storytelling, deep listening, and professional expertise to help individuals and families preserve their voices and memories not for the internet, but for the people who matter most. 

My Story

In those early sessions, many recordings were purchased as gifts. The adult child or grandchild who gave the gift would often sit in, insisting they didn’t need a mic because they “weren’t going to talk.” And without fail, by the end of the conversation, they were the ones asking the deepest questions wanting to know more about family members, shared memories, and stories that had never been told out loud. Watching that connection unfold in real time was incredible.

I saw this play out in my own family, too. My grandpa passed away when I was young, and I don’t remember many of his stories firsthand. Years later, I brought my microphones to a family reunion and recorded his siblings. We did a round-robin conversation where everyone asked questions and shared memories. Hearing those stories felt like recovering a piece of our family history we didn’t even realize we were missing.

There have been sessions that were joyful, reflective, and deeply meaningful. There have also been moments that were tender. After the passing of someone in his early twenties, his friends gathered to record stories about him. Some moments were light and playful the kind of gentle roasting only close friends can do. Others were honest, emotional, and deeply personal. Together, it felt like the real conversations they would have had if he were still there. That recording became something his child could one day listen to and feel connected to a parent they didn’t get enough time with.

What I’ve learned through all of this is that sometimes the hardest part is simply starting the conversation. When it’s with people we’re closest to, pressing record or asking deeper questions can sometimes feel awkward. Bringing in someone from the outside helps. I get to guide the conversation and ask questions from a place of curiosity, without personal history or expectations shaping the moment.

Being part of these stories has been an honor and it’s why this work continues to matter to me.

Celebrating Tracy Robbins King’s 50th episode

Why I Do It

Over the years, I’ve recorded conversations with people who have since passed away. I’ve received messages from loved ones sharing that they listened back and hearing their voice, their laughter, and the way they told their story made it feel like they were together again, even if only for a moment.

Those messages stay with me.

Life moves fast, and we don’t always pause for deeper conversations. This work creates space to slow down, listen, and learn from one another  grandparents, parents, and children sharing perspectives that might otherwise be lost.

People often leave these sessions feeling more connected. Like they understand their loved one more. Like a generational gap has quietly closed.

That’s why this work matters to me. Because stories connect generations, remind us who we are, and preserve voices that deserve to be remembered.