This post is adapted from my conversation with Barbara Nixon on the Smash Your Own Ceiling podcast.

A little boy in Gloucester wanted to solve the Middle East conflict in his story. His friend turned to him: "Seriously, how on earth are you going to do this?" "Well, we're going to sit down and have a cup of tea. And at the end there's a pizza party." The whole class ended up debating whether you should have pineapple on pizza. They were not afraid to take on big topics. That is what happens when you give children permission to be the heroes of their own stories.

It all started because I was given one hour weekly on FaceTime with my son, and I refused to waste it.

I was mocked in court. How on earth was I going to talk to a ten-year-old for an hour? I remember thinking: I know exactly how to speak to my son for an hour. But a few months in, something shifted. Gabriel had done martial arts since he was tiny, about an hour weekly. He swam competitively, about an hour weekly. It suddenly hit me: do not underestimate the power of that hour if you use it well. That realisation increased my trust in our connection. Then I started meeting other mothers in similar situations, and I found gratitude. Gratitude in Gabriel's age, that he was old enough to sustain FaceTime contact. Gratitude that we had communication at all. Once I started finding appreciation for what we did have, it helped me get out of victim mode and into: right, you are going to do something. This is going to get constructive.

In the very early days we were both completely shell-shocked. All I did was read. I picked up Michael Morpurgo's Puffin Keeper and read it to him like Jackanory. We touched base, then we read together. Gabriel had always loved stories. After Puffin Keeper, he read to me. We played pen and paper games. Then we read an illustrated copy of Treasure Island, the protagonist is called Jim, which is Granddad's name. At the end, I do not even know where the flash of inspiration came from, but I asked: "Gabriel, should we make up a story where you are the hero?" The answer was instantly yes.

He started narrating. I scribbled notes. Each week I would type it up, spot the gaps, prepare. I had brainstorms ready. Not with a blank mind, but prepared so we could use our hour intentionally. I would read the story back. He would add his edits. Granddad illustrated. After about eight weeks I put everything into one Word document. I turned my iPad around and showed him. Instantly: "Mum, it's a book. It's a book." In my mind I was thinking: on what planet did I have the right to write a book? But I did not say that. I said okay. He said no, Mum, it's a REAL book. So I sent it to a retired headteacher in Bradford and a child psychologist in the US. Both came back with the same message: get this out now.

At some point Gabriel said something I will never forget: "Mum, use all your skills." I had to reflect on what that meant. I used to be a rower, an elite athlete. When you are rowing, you point, go, keep going however much it hurts. You always cross the finish line. But I also knew the regret of quitting. At university, when GB trials coincided with finals, I panicked and quit the rowing. I knew I could have done both if I had got organised. So I was aware: my weakest link is overwhelm. I made the decision. I am not quitting this time. That meant accepting my weakness and saying yes to offers of help. A friend who was a project manager offered one hour weekly just to keep grips on things. A friend who had trained as a physio with me recognised I was on my knees and said: get on the train, come stay with me. Two weeks of proper dinners, wine, morning swims, a desk at a coworking space. Like being in rehab. Nobody is going to rescue you. But people will help you.

The constraint of one hour a week did not limit us. It focused us. 465 children across nine schools. 100% engagement. Stories being shared across Bradford, internationally, with a digital library growing by the week. Children in Bradford asking: why are we reading celebrities' books? Why aren't we reading books written by other children? Get out of our way.

Everything starts with a decision. Once you have decided, that is your North Star. You are not deviating from it. Then you use all your skills, say yes to help, and keep going.