How To Make An Obituary

Writing Something That Actually Gets Read

An obituary is a notice of someone's death, usually published in a newspaper or online. Most people treat it like a formality. They copy templates from funeral homes and fill in the blanks. The result reads like a resume with a date of death appended to the bottom. I learned this the hard way. My grandfather died on a Tuesday. By Thursday, three local papers had rejected our submission because we followed a template so closely it looked generated. The editor actually said that. She wanted a human being, not a list of survivors and memberships.

How To Make An Obituary That Doesn't Sound Generic

Start by writing about the person, not the logistics. I spent twenty minutes crafting a paragraph about how my grandfather fixed everything with duct tape and stubbornness. The funeral director looked at me like I was crazy. He wanted dates, ages, and church affiliations. I insisted on the duct tape story. It ran on page four next to a wedding announcement. Three people called my mother to tell her they remembered him too. The standard format says include the death date, surviving family members, service details, and a brief biography. This usually takes about fifteen minutes if you're just filling in blanks. But fifteen minutes of blank-filling produces something nobody finishes reading. People skim obituaries the same way they skim Terms of Service agreements. You have maybe eight seconds before they move on. Counter-intuitive insight: The longer the obituary, the more likely someone will read it. Short, generic notices get glanced at and forgotten. A detailed story with specific memories creates enough friction to make someone stop scrolling. I've seen 800-word obituaries get full-page features. I've also seen 150-word perfect-obituary templates rejected outright by editors who said they'd rather print nothing than something that sounds like every other death notice in the paper.

The Practical Problem With Templates

Funeral home templates are designed for speed, not humanity. They give you fields for name, age, date of death, survivors, and service information. These fields are necessary for legal and administrative purposes. They are not sufficient for creating something worth reading. I encountered a specific edge-case that templates don't handle. My grandmother died with early-stage dementia. The template asked for "predeceased by" and "survived by." It didn't account for the fact that she spent her last six months repeatedly asking where her mother was, even though her mother had died forty years earlier. Do you include that? Do you mention the confusion, the moments of recognition, the way she'd smile when someone played the same song from her wedding? Here's the workaround I used: I wrote about the symptom, not as a medical footnote, but as evidence of who she was. I explained that the disease stole her short-term memory but couldn't touch her sense of humor. I described how she'd hum along to songs from the 1940s even when she didn't know the words. The paper ran it as a full-page feature. Not because it was polished. Because it was true.

What Actually Works In Practice

First, draft without editing. Write about the person the way you'd describe them to someone who never met them. Focus on specific details: the way he always chewed his lip when concentrating, the collection of chipped mugs she kept in the cupboard, the fact that he could fix anything except his relationship with his brother. Second, kill the resume section. "He was preceded in death by..." is necessary for genealogical records. It is not necessary for an obituary. People already know who died. They want to know who that person was. I've read obituaries that listed twelve grandchildren and three great-great-grandchildren without mentioning a single personality trait. These get skipped. Skip-worthy. Common pitfall: Over-emphasizing achievements. Professional accomplishments matter to colleagues. They rarely resonate with general readers. I spent an hour trimming a three-paragraph section about my colleague's quarterly reports. The editor said that part should go. She wanted to know how he treated his waitresses, not how he optimized supply chain logistics.

The Legal And Administrative Requirements

Most newspapers require certain information for legal reasons. Death date, age at death, name of funeral home, and service details. These are non-negotiable. Skipping them gets your submission rejected. I learned this when a local paper returned our draft because we forgot to include the cremation date. The editor said that date matters for public records. She was right. Online platforms have different requirements. Some want social security numbers for verification. Others ask for proof of death. These vary by publication. Check before you submit. I've seen people waste hours drafting beautiful obituaries only to discover their chosen platform required documentation they didn't have.

When This Method Fails Completely

Not every death benefits from a long obituary. Some people prefer brevity. Some families have complex dynamics that make detailed storytelling problematic. I worked with a client whose father died under controversial circumstances. The family wanted a five-sentence notice. The extended family wanted a biography. We compromise on a single paragraph mentioning the essentials and leaving the rest for private memorials. Alternative approach: If the deceased had a significant public profile, consider a different format. News obituaries for notable people follow different conventions. They emphasize achievements, contributions, and public service. Personal obituaries for everyday people should emphasize personality, relationships, and the small details that made them specific. Mixing these up produces something that feels wrong. I've seen corporate executives get personality-driven obituaries that sounded like they were written by strangers.

The Economics Of Publishing

Newspaper obituaries cost money. Most papers charge by the line or by the inch. A typical 200-word notice runs about $200 to $400 depending on circulation. Online platforms are usually free or much cheaper. I calculated the average cost for three local papers: $750 total. That's money some families can't afford. Bottleneck: Publication deadlines. Most papers require submissions 24 to 48 hours before printing. This leaves almost no time for revisions. I've seen grieving families struggle with typos, wrong dates, and missing information because they submitted too late. Plan ahead. Draft while emotions are still raw, then revise once things settle. Two days is usually enough time to catch errors without rushing.

Writing About Sensitive Topics

Some deaths involve complications. Addiction, mental illness, criminal records, family feuds. How much do you include? I handled a case where the deceased died from an overdose. The family wanted honesty but not sensationalism. We mentioned the struggle without graphic details. We focused on recovery attempts, moments of clarity, and the love that persisted despite everything. The obituary ran without controversy. The family received calls from people who needed to hear that addiction doesn't erase a life. Industry-standard terminology: Use "died" instead of "passed away" if you want directness. "Passed away" is euphemistic and vague. It doesn't convey information. "Died" is clinical but accurate. Some families prefer the softer language. That's fine. Just be consistent. I've seen obituaries mix both styles in the same paragraph, which creates tonal whiplash.

The Structure That Actually Works

Paragraph one: who died, when, and where. Keep it factual. Name, age, date, location. No embellishment needed here. Paragraph two: personality and specific memories. This is where most people fail. They list achievements instead of describing who the person was. I suggest including one or two concrete details that reveal character. My grandfather's duct tape philosophy worked because it was specific and repeated throughout the piece. Paragraph three: family and relationships. Survivors, predeceased by, meaningful connections. This is the section templates handle adequately. Don't overthink it.

Paragraph four: service details and practical information. Funeral home, date, time, location, donation preferences. Necessary for people who want to pay respects. Edge-case workaround: If the death occurred recently and service details aren't finalized, use "details to follow" or link to an online memorial. I've seen families publish incomplete information and then receive calls from people who showed up at the wrong location. Verify everything before submitting.

Online Versus Print Considerations

Print obituaries have space constraints. Most papers limit submissions to 200 to 500 words. Online platforms allow much longer pieces. I've published 1,500-word digital obituaries with photos, videos, and guest books. These generate more engagement and allow for more detailed storytelling. Pitfall: Reposting the same text everywhere. Online obituaries benefit from multimedia elements. Photos, video tributes, and guest book messages create a richer experience. Print obituaries don't have these options. Adapt your content for each medium rather than copying and pasting identical text.

The Aftermath And Ongoing Management

Once published, obituaries become permanent records. Google indexes them. Genealogy websites archive them. Future researchers might find them. I've encountered cases where outdated information persisted for years because nobody corrected the original submission. Verify links, dates, and names before publishing. After publication, monitor for errors and request corrections immediately if you find any. Downside: Some platforms charge recurring fees for memorial pages. Others offer free basic listings with paid upgrades for featured placement. I calculated the annual cost for keeping a digital memorial active: approximately $50 to $100 per year depending on the platform. Factor this into your planning if long-term maintenance matters to your family.

A Final Note On Getting It Wrong

Sometimes you'll make mistakes. Typos, wrong dates, missing information. This happens. I once published an obituary with the wrong birth year. The family noticed three days later. We contacted the paper for a correction. Most publications run corrections for free if you act quickly. Don't panic. Fix it and move on. The goal isn't perfection. The goal is creating something that captures who someone was. A template-filled notice might be technically correct. It might also be forgettable. Choose specificity over completeness. Choose humanity over convention. Your editor might reject the first draft. That's okay. Revise and submit again. The paper that runs something true usually appreciates the effort.