It's not a project. It's a habit.

Nobody sat him down for that. Nobody gave him a deadline. He just answered a question while he waited.

Before it's too late

There are lots of story collecting and memoir writing services out there now, and they're mostly built the same way. You sign up your mum or dad, a question arrives every week, and at the end of the year the answers become a book.

They're usually aimed at an elderly parent, and they usually sell on a quiet fear: collect their stories before it's too late.

I understand why. But think about what that actually hands your parents: a project. It has a finish line, a page count, and every week a question that deserves a proper sit-down answer. Some parents love that. For a lot of others, it starts well, then a busy week happens, then two questions are waiting, then four. The gift quietly turns into homework.

There's another catch. Most let you write your own questions, which sounds great until you try it. Most of us aren't biographers. We don't know what to ask, and we certainly don't know what our parents would love to be asked.

My parents aren't running out of time

My parents have a better social life than I do. They're not sitting at home waiting for someone to record their life before it ends. They're off doing things.

So Tell Me isn't built around "before it's too late." It's built around a simpler question: how well do you actually know your parents?

Two questions a week, straight to WhatsApp, the app they already check a hundred times a day. Some are light, some are heavy, and some are just daft. Some are about 1975, and some are about last Tuesday.

Dad might write 25 words on one and 250 on the next. Mum might send a two-minute voice note. And if a question doesn't spark anything, they let it float past. Nothing piles up, and nobody's behind.

Every question is an invitation, not an obligation. It isn't a project; it's a habit built around nostalgia, and it's the same thing they already do over Sunday dinner when someone says "do you remember when…"

Why a habit makes a better book

This is the bit I didn't expect.

Most memoir services ask one question a week. Tell Me asks around twice that. That means more stories, but it also means you learn something a weekly writing assignment never tells you: who your parent actually is.

After a year you can see which questions made Dad go on for hours and which ones he quietly skipped. You can see what makes Mum laugh, what she avoids, and the one throwaway answer that deserves a whole chapter. A skipped question isn't a blank page. It's a clue.

That's what a real biographer spends their first months figuring out. With Tell Me, it happens in the background, one cup of tea at a time.

So if your family wants a book, it stops being a guess. It becomes a proper project in year two, built around the person you've spent a year getting to know. That's where I want Tell Me to go.

More to talk about

Tell Me doesn't replace phoning your mum or visiting your dad. It gives you more to talk about when you do.

I found out my dad has always wanted to go to Alaska. I went there at 23 with Emma and had no idea. I'd have taken him.

Ask your parents something this week. You've no idea what's sitting there waiting.