Your story has waited long enough.
You tell it.
I put it on the page.
Book collaboration for people in long-term recovery. You talk, I write from your words, and every page is yours.
From your mouth to the page.
I keep your voice, ask the follow-up questions, and build it into a chapter that reads like you on your best day.
Session 2 · 00:18:44What you said
“I had the rent money. I had it, like, right in my jacket. And I drove right past the landlord's and I just, you know, kept driving.”
Chapter Four
The Long Way Around
Drawn from sessions 2 and 5
Chapter Four
The Long Way Around
The rent money was in the inside pocket of my jacket, folded twice. I could feel it against my chest the whole drive.
When the landlord's house came up on the right, I didn't slow down. I told myself I'd circle the block. I told myself a lot of things that night.
By the time I stopped telling myself anything, I was forty miles from home, and the money was gone.
47Session 4 · 01:02:10What you said
“My mother never said it, you know, but she'd leave the porch light on. Every night. Like, for years.”
Chapter Nine
The Porch Light
Drawn from sessions 4 and 6
Chapter Nine
The Porch Light
My mother never once said she was waiting for me. She didn't have to.
For six years, the porch light stayed on until morning. When the neighbors asked, she told them it was for safety.
The night I finally came home clean, the first thing I noticed was the bulb. She had changed it so many times that the fixture had come loose from the wall.
112Session 6 · 00:41:27What you said
“People think the hard part was getting clean. Nah. Hard part was day four hundred, when nobody's clapping anymore.”
Chapter Twelve
Day Four Hundred
Drawn from sessions 6 and 7
Chapter Twelve
Day Four Hundred
Everyone thinks the hard part is getting clean. It isn't.
The first ninety days come with an audience: handshakes, phone numbers, people cheering for you. Then one ordinary Tuesday you reach day four hundred, and nobody claps.
It's just you, a cup of bad coffee, and the choice to stay. That was the day my recovery actually started.
168Examples written for this site, not from a client's book.
For the person who keeps saying, "I should write a book."
Any path to recovery counts.
- You have years of recovery and a story people ask to hear.
- You've tried writing it yourself and stalled.
- You're not "techie," and don't want to be.
- You want the truth told, in your own voice.
What I promise, and what I won't.
I promise
- Every chapter comes from your words, and you approve it.
- You're the sole author and own everything.
- You pay only for time actually worked.
I won't promise
- Sales. Most memoirs don't make money.
- A finish date. Your pace sets the timeline.
- That it's all by hand. I use AI tools to draft, and I tell you how.
Honest pricing, at your pace.
It starts with a free call. Then one small step at a time, and you can pause whenever you need to.
See how pricing worksBooks in progress
A recovery coach on gambling and the way back. A New York City club DJ, decades clean, on surviving cancer.
Read about the books in progressKnow someone with a story?
Here's how to bring it up, and how to give a book as a gift.
For families and sponsorsYour story has waited long enough.
Start with a free 30-minute call, by phone or Zoom.