Permission to … change my book title?
- The 1/4″ drill bit, Bali, cocktails on the beach, love, pride, and Spark
- Is your goal to have fun or win an award?
- I recorded an 11-second video 4 years ago that’s the foundation of my next book.
- Don’t wait 12 years. Please.
- It’s not only for you and your kids but your grandkids … and beyond.
- Is there anything possibly worse than not starting the project?
- Oops. That’s what I forgot: a story.
- The One Recipe Cookbook (and how to finish a project together with your kids)
- Best books for doing activities with your kids, creating family memories, and building relationships between parents and children
- Spark: It’s about creating something from nothing. Let’s create a subtitle, shall we?
- People like us do things like this
- Why Spark? Why me? Why you? Why now?
- What if I’d like to be one of the people like you who do things like that?
- Permission to … change my book title?
- Write a book with your kids? 43 elements for success. 42 are optional.
- It seems like backwards math, but by creating, we are actually “getting” more than we are “giving.”
- The Widow and the Orphan
- Spark Love: About that 1 mandatory element of the 43…
- Recipe for Love
- Kids need to crash their bikes to learn how to ride.
I keep interviewing parents for my book and …
keep getting great, exciting, and title-changing information.
Here’s a tip: set a fake deadline for your book that is months ahead of your true publication date.
Then do all of the work and be done months early.
I keep talking about people with my book and they keep, well, frankly, making it better.
But as it gets better and bigger and encompasses more it also gets simpler and down to its core and I’m understanding more and more what it’s really about.
So much so that I want to change the title.
Don’t let me over to canva.com or I might make a cover.
I told my latest parent (Arlene from Toronto, Canada) about a mom I had on the show who wanted to make a cookbook together with her kids. She wanted to make it perfect with professional photography, with enough recipes to last the kids through high school (they are barely in elementary school), testing of ingredients, and … you get the idea.
It was going to be perfect, it was going to be professional, and it was never going to get done.
When I suggested that we do a One Recipe Cookbook with only that single recipe she did with her boys already (apparently, they can whip up some pretty tasty cornbread), her shoulder slumped and she let out a breath of relief.
Arlene didn’t say anything on the phone. Then she said, “You’re giving the parents permission.” She paused again. “Permission to play.”
What if “Spark” became “Permission to Play?”
Adults were given permission to not only play with their kids but permission to be a kid again. To be young, to goof around, to be a dork, to throw flour around while baking, to play. Permission to play.
I need to sleep on it. But wow.
Here’s to making my book adventure a joint venture. The more people I bring together, the stronger the core of it gets.