How about you write a book?

A Work in Progress: The Back Cover of Rerooted (and Why I’m Sharing It Early)

I’ve been quietly working on a book for the past three years. Quietly… and very slowly.

The working title is Rerooted, and right now it’s sitting at about 30 pages, which means two things can be true at once:

1. It’s very much a work in progress

2. It already means a great deal to me

   
   

Rather than wait until everything feels “done” (spoiler: that day may never come), I wanted to share something early specifically, the back cover idea and invite your thoughts.

Here’s the concept as it currently stands:

Our family of five decided to leave the familiar heat of Southern California and chart a new life in Auckland, New Zealand. Rerooted is part memoir, part migration story, and part intimate love letter to both the place they left and the land we choose.

It follows a father and partner, with three children in tow, as they weigh safety, belonging, and possibility against the comforts of the life they knew. From the final goodbyes in Los Angeles to a quiet sense of calm glimpsed on a 2019 reconnaissance trip, and through the global upheaval of a pandemic, the book traces a deliberate, courageous decision to replant their roots.

It’s a meditation on identity, culture, and parenting in new soil, a candid exploration of what it means to belong when the ground feels uncertain, when growth requires leaving behind familiar landmarks, and when love and hope become the catalysts for a life reimagined. For readers contemplating a move, or simply navigating change, Rerooted offers honesty, tenderness, and the messy beauty of starting over.

Why This Book Exists

At its core, Rerooted is about leaving without rejecting, and choosing without erasing. It’s about loving where you’re from while still knowing you need something different for your family.

It’s about parenting while uncertain, redefining identity mid-life, and discovering that belonging isn’t always immediate, but it can be intentional.

Some days this book feels like a migration story. Other days it feels like a parenting memoir. Most days it feels like a long conversation I wish I’d been able to read before we left.

The Honest Part

This book has taken three years so far, and I’m only 30 pages in.

Life happened. A pandemic happened. Kids grew. Work multiplied. Confidence came and went. Some chapters were written and deleted. Others are still just bullet points and feelings.

But the story hasn’t gone away, and that feels like a sign.

I’d Love Your Input

This is where you come in.

• Does this back cover resonate?

• Does it sound like something you’d pick up?

• What feels clear, and what feels vague?

• What would make you want to turn the page?

  
  

If you’ve ever moved countries, started over, or simply wondered “what if?”, your perspective matters to me.

Thanks for being part of this messy, meaningful work in progress. Roots take time. Apparently… so do books.

— Russell