Two quite different gifts share this occasion. One is for a mother who wants to write her own book — a novel, a memoir, the thing she keeps talking about. The other is a book *about* her: her life, in her words, recorded by you. Both are good. They need different presents.
A Mother's Day gift for a mum who has always wanted to write
Four things worth knowing before you ask
The hard part is that you are asking about a person you only met halfway through their life.
- Ask about her before she was your mother. The years you were not alive for are the ones nobody has ever asked her about.
- Ask what she wanted to be at seventeen, and what happened to it.
- Ask about her own mother. It is usually the richest ten minutes in the recording.
- Do not correct the dates. Being wrong about the year is not the same as being wrong about the memory.
The questions, and how to record the answers
Forty interview questions grouped by who you are asking and which part of their life, plus the one-page recording guide — which room, where to put the phone, what to say at the start, and what to do if they become upset. It arrives in about thirty seconds.
Why this one lands
For the mother with her own book in mind, the obstacle is almost never desire and almost always permission — the sense that her writing is the thing that gets moved when everything else needs doing. What helps is structure and a reason to start on a specific day.
For the mother whose life is the book, the gift is your attention. An afternoon, a recorder and questions that are not what was it like but what did the house smell like on a Sunday.
Why not a notebook
The beautiful notebook is the standard gift here and it nearly always ends in a drawer — not because it is a bad object, but because what stands between someone and their book is not a lack of paper. It is not knowing where to start, not believing anyone would want to read it, and having no structure to follow.
A gift that supplies those three things gets used. One that supplies stationery adds a small, gentle weight of obligation to a pile that already exists.
What to do first
If it is her book: the Book Coach is free with no account, and ten minutes of it produces a working title and a chapter list. Give her that and an evening to herself.
If it is her life: print a question set and ask. Record it. That is the gift, and everything else is optional.
A note on doing this well
Mothers are frequently the hardest people to interview, because the relationship is loaded and both of you have decades of practice avoiding certain subjects. Start with her childhood rather than yours — it is safer ground, and it is usually where the material is anyway.
What you're actually giving
Your Book Pro is a British book-writing platform. You bring a book — an idea, a folder of notes, half a draft, or a finished manuscript written somewhere else — and it gives you the editorial process a publisher would run: a plan, structured feedback, a simulated beta read, a line edit, a proofread, a cover, a blurb and a print-ready file. You can type it, upload it or speak it. The tools sit in one place and work on the same manuscript, so the feedback compounds instead of arriving as twelve disconnected opinions.
What you are actually giving. They can talk it rather than type it, which matters for anyone who finds a blank screen intimidating — and most people who have never written a book do. Recordings become clean transcripts; transcripts become chapters; the editorial tools work on the result.
Every account starts with 1,000 welcome credits that never expire. No subscription, no deadline, nothing to cancel. That matters for a gift: there is no clock running, and nobody feels they have wasted your money by not starting until March.
And the Book Coach is free at yourbook.pro/book-coach with no account, so they can try it before you give them anything at all — and so can you.
At the end there is a printed book. A single proof copy is around £4.25 plus roughly £4.15 UK shipping. For a great many people, holding it is the whole point — and it is worth ordering one early, at the messy-draft stage, because paper makes a book feel possible in a way a file never does.
Try the Book Coach — free, no account
See the question sets
Email me the questionsQuestions people ask
- What if my mum says her life isn't interesting?
- Almost everyone says this and almost nobody is right. Ask a specific question — who lived next door, what her first wage was, what her mother was afraid of — and watch what happens.
- Does the gift expire?
- No. The welcome credits never expire and there is no subscription to cancel — which is deliberate, because a gift with a clock on it becomes a source of guilt rather than a present.
- Do they need to be good with computers?
- No. They can talk rather than type, on a phone, and someone else can do the uploading. Plenty of family books are made by one person recording and another assembling.
- Can I help them with it?
- Yes, and for family stories that is usually how it works — one person interviews, another types or uploads, and the book belongs to everyone.
- What if they never use it?
- Start with the free question sets and one recorded afternoon. Even if no book follows, the recording is the thing families are most glad to have.