A book written for one person.

Sample books

Opening pages from three sample books, written with AI for made-up readers, so you can see what one feels like.

• 

  The Year You Started Again

  For Maya, 41, starting a design diploma after fifteen years in one job.

  Sample book. Written for a made-up reader.

  Read the opening page

  For Maya, from Maya. You chose to give yourself this.

  You bought this book for yourself.

  We want to start there,
  because it tells us something about you.

  In March, after fifteen years
  as office manager at a freight company,
  the job ended.

  Fifteen years of knowing where everything was.
  Who to call. What was running late.
  What could wait until Monday.

  Now you are 41, in Brisbane,
  enrolled in a graphic design diploma,
  and some mornings the fear arrives before the light does.

  Too old.
  Spending the family's savings.

  We won't pretend those thoughts are quiet.
  They are real, and we will give them room in these pages.

  But we also know this.

  You wake before everyone,
  before your 12-year-old,
  before your 9-year-old,
  and you draw on the backs of envelopes.

  Not because anyone asked.
  Not for a mark or a client.
  Because some part of you
  kept a small door open
  through all the busy years.

  This book is about that door.

  We can't tell you how this year will end.
  No one can.

  What we can do
  is sit beside you
  while you begin it.

• 

  Seven Thousand Mondays

  For Graham, retiring after 38 years of teaching chemistry. A gift from his daughter.

  Sample book. Written for a made-up reader.

  Read the opening page

  For Graham, from Ellie, with notes from Tom.

  You are 64.

  Soon a Monday will come

  and the school bell will ring without you.

  For thirty-eight years

  you walked into the same school in Leeds

  and taught chemistry to whoever came through the door.

  You gave up your lunchtimes to the rocket club.

  You counted down from ten more times than anyone could count.

  And before anything risky,

  you always said the same three words.

  Safety specs on.

  We know what you have been worrying about.

  That the days might stretch.

  That you might feel bored, or useless,

  once nobody needs a Bunsen burner lit.

  We will not pretend to know how this next part goes.

  Nobody does.

  But we noticed something.

  You have already made a promise to it.

  You said you would learn the cello.

  A man who spent his working life

  explaining how things react

  is about to be a beginner again,

  squeaking through his first scales.

  We think that deserves a book.

  Ellie asked us to make this one.

  Tom added his notes.

  You will find them both at the back,

  in their own words.

  For now, this is the first page.

  Safety specs on.

• 

  Before the Starting Line

  For Jordan, the night before a first marathon. A gift from their partner.

  Sample book. Written for a made-up reader.

  Read the opening page

  For Jordan, before race day.

  Two years ago, the end of the street was far.

  Far enough that you stopped before you got there.

  We want to begin there,
  because you did.

  Since then, the Merri Creek path
  has learned the sound of your shoes.

  The same three dogs have watched you pass,
  again and again,
  while the kilometres quietly added up
  behind you.

  Now there is a date,
  circled on the fridge.
  Your first marathon.

  Your dad is flying in from Perth.
  We know that part sits heavy:
  the fear of not finishing,
  with him there to see it.

  We won't tell you that fear is wrong.
  It is there because this matters to you.
  And because he does.

  So here is what we know for certain.

  There is a pair of lucky socks,
  bought by Sam.

  There will be Sam at the 35-kilometre mark,
  holding oranges.

  And there is you, 29,
  who once couldn't reach the end of the street,
  now counting the days
  to a starting line.

  This book is for the days between now and then.

  Turn the page whenever you're ready.