.Storyteller Sam Lamott

A bestselling author tweeted to me over the summer and asked how she could get in touch. Intriguing, to say the least.

We eventually connected via email.

“My son Sam, who was on the cover of the [Pacific] Sun with me 32 years ago, grew up to be a Drake High School druggie, losing a number of friends to overdose along the way, a meth head, a teenage father, and then, in 2012, a clean and sober artist. He has a teenage son, and a very successful podcast,” Anne Lamott said.

She went on to suggest her son would be a good subject for a profile. I’d actually been thinking the same thing for a while.

As a podcast junkie, I’ve been a fan of Sam Lamott’s show, How to Human, since it hit Apple Podcasts New and Noteworthy list in 2018. While he interviews an eclectic mix of writers and experts in how to navigate life, he reveals some of his own vulnerabilities, foibles and triumphs.

I caught up with Sam Lamott at Square 1 Studio, a recording studio in San Anselmo that he opened with Reese Zecchin, his best friend and business partner. Zecchin and Lamott’s 13-year-old son, Jax Lamott, sat within earshot. Sam Lamott often called out to Zecchin to ask him to verify details, such as dates or names.

“I was high and drunk from 12 to 22,” Sam Lamott said. “There are some consequences, and one of them is I have a really bad memory.”

Over the years, Lamott has relied on Zecchin for more than simple reminders. By the time they became friends in 2015, Lamott said that he hadn’t acquired many life skills because of his drug use.

”I didn’t know how to be a good friend,” he said. “I didn’t know how to do much of anything. Reese actually taught me how to iron my shirt correctly and pay my taxes.”

While Zecchin chimed in, Lamott explained that their recording studio began during the pandemic, built inside a 10-foot by 10-foot Tuff Shed behind his home in Fairfax. Initially, the studio was used to record his podcasts, until his mother’s publisher discovered it. Authors, including Jack Kornfield, started scheduling studio time to record their audiobooks.

Demand grew and the business relocated to the larger and more professional San Anselmo space, servicing high-profile clients like the Today show and City Arts & Lectures. The studio also works on projects with regular folks to preserve their own stories—video memoirs.

“There’s a lot you can do on the cell phone, which is cool, but it means that you can go from idea to [finished] product really quickly,” Lamott said. “The problem is that you’re missing out on my favorite process, which is the refinement.”

For many people, video memoirs aren’t necessarily a creative project, but more of a calling, according to Lamott. They’re compelled to capture their story. He and Zecchin work behind the scenes to assist the storyteller.

Lamott likens their role to that of a midwife. In a recent project, the duo helped a person frame the account of tracking down their mother’s remains. Instead of unfolding as true crime, the memoir is a story of spiritual self-discovery.

People should consider chronicling their life as one of their first projects after retirement, Lamott advises. Or even sooner. Lamott, 33, is maintaining an ongoing recording of his experiences that he hopes will benefit his son in the future.

Sometimes folks in their twilight years don’t sound the same as they did when they were younger, according to Lamott. Their cadence may be different, or they may not remember events as vividly. By delaying too long, a loved one often ends up making the memoir.

“Telling your story while you’re alive, in your own words, is totally different than someone else telling it,” Lamott said. “It goes from ‘he or she was’ to ‘I am.’ Rather than someone just talking about the things you did, you get to share the inner journey as well as the moments that defined you.”

Although Lamott is relatively young, he has had a plethora of defining moments. While he grew up with a celebrated mother, life, especially as a teenager, wasn’t always easy, he said. 

“I was not receptive to anything my mom was teaching at that time,” said Lamott.

He refused to conform to the rules at Marin’s public schools and was sent to a wilderness program in West Virginia, where he eventually earned his high school diploma. Teenage fatherhood quickly followed. At age 22, Lamott became sober.

Today, he enjoys life but remains dogged by bouts of depression and suicidal ideation, which he’s at ease talking about. He remains committed to connecting with people who might find comfort by hearing about his experiences. Posts on Instagram and Twitter don’t cut it.

“I have a love-hate relationship with social media,” Lamott said. “If you just hear the upper side of the human experience, you are missing out because the truth is that life is hard. It’s hard when things are going good, and it’s really hard when things are going bad. We know that every single human is going to have existential challenges, and some more than others.”

That’s the reason he created the How to Human podcast. And he’s not only speaking to his audience, he’s meeting with them.

“They are just like me—ragtag, awesome humans trying to figure it out,” Lamott said. “They have a book club, so I hang out with some of them regularly. Now, they’re just friends.”

Some may consider him a friend and a lifesaver. He has received emails from people who were contemplating suicide, but stopped after hearing something on How to Human.

“The impact this has made on a handful of people—that’s where I know it’s worth the time,” he said.

Still, he doesn’t believe he can save anybody. Lamott said these listeners have heard something on the podcast that “met them where they were,” motivating them to seek help.

“I do think that when we express ourselves and live out loud, it sometimes reminds people of something that they knew,” he said. “It’s like when you read a book and a part hits you hard, putting a voice to something that was there already.”

The magic is difficult to define, but How to Human has made its mark. With 82 episodes available now and more on the way, Lamott and his guests will continue touching people in ways they’ll probably never know about.