Charlie Brown Christmas Tree and the Book That Gets Finished

I waited too long this year.

The calendar turned without asking permission, and suddenly Christmas was a week away. That familiar pressure showed up. The quiet voice that says, Just pick something and move on. So I loaded up my kids and drove to the Christmas tree lot, already deciding what a proper choice was supposed to look like.

Six feet. Maybe seven. Perhaps eight. Full branches. Something that looked right in a living room photo.

We pulled in, and I scanned the rows with purpose. Tall trees. Wide trees. Trees that needed a ladder to decorate and a careful plan to get through the front door. I was already thinking about roof straps and ceiling clearance.

Then my kids walked past all of them.

They are four and six, and they did not hesitate. They ignored the biggest trees and stopped at the smallest one on the lot.

Four feet tall. Thin. A little crooked. The kind of tree adults stare at for a moment and then look for a better option.

It was the Charlie Brown Christmas tree.

They loved it.

No debate. No second thoughts. They could reach it. They could decorate it themselves. It felt like it belonged to them.

I picked it up and realized something else. I did not need rope. I did not need a plan. It fit easily in the back of the vehicle, no struggle at all.

On the drive home, the lesson landed.

This is exactly how most people should be approaching book publishing.

Big Ideas Look Impressive Until You Have to Live With Them

When people decide they want to write a book, they usually start with the biggest version of the idea.

A sweeping memoir. A ten-part framework. A book that explains everything they know, everything they believe, everything they have ever learned. The seven-foot tree of publishing.

On paper, it sounds right.

More pages. More depth. More authority. More credibility. It feels serious. It sounds impressive when they describe it to friends. It looks good in their imagination.

Then reality shows up.

The outline keeps growing. The chapters feel heavy. The scope becomes blurry. Writing sessions feel like work instead of momentum. Weeks pass. Then months.

Eventually, the manuscript gets set aside.

An unfinished book offers value only in theory.

Just like a massive tree that looks great in someone else’s house but does not fit your space, your schedule, or your energy.

The Tree My Kids Chose Fit Their World

My kids did not choose their tree based on how it looked to strangers. They chose it based on how it would live in their home.

They could reach the branches. They could decorate without help. They could see the whole thing without effort.

It was not impressive to anyone else.

It was perfect for them.

That is the same filter writers should use when choosing their first book, but rarely do.

The right book idea is not the one that sounds best in conversation. It is the one that fits your current season, your available time, your experience, and your ability to finish.

If the project feels heavy before you begin, it will not get lighter later.

Finishability Is Not a Compromise. It Is the Goal.

There is a quiet truth that experienced authors learn the hard way.

Completion determines confidence.

Confidence determines consistency.

And consistency determines impact.

A shorter, focused book that gets written, published, and shared beats a grand idea that never leaves the outline stage. Every time.

My kids’ tree did not require special tools. It did not fight the space. It fit without resistance. That is why it worked.

A book idea should feel the same way.

If your book requires constant motivation, endless rewrites, or perfect conditions, it is the wrong tree for your living room.

Fit Matters More Than Scope

Many people believe they need to grow into a book.

More expertise. More credentials. More clarity. More time.

The truth is simpler.

You need a book that fits who you are right now.

Clear audience matters. Narrow focus matters. Manageable length matters. A structure you understand matters.

A book that feels intimidating will not get written. A book that feels vague will not get finished. A book that feels too large will get delayed indefinitely.

My kids did not want a tree they had to ask permission to touch.

They wanted one they could engage with.

Your book should feel the same way.

The Book You Relate To Is the Book You Will Finish

There is another layer most people miss.

Completion comes from connection.

My kids cared about that tree because it felt like theirs. That meant they showed up for it. They decorated it. They talked about it. They noticed it every day.

Writers do the same thing.

When someone chooses a book idea that sounds like what they think they should write, they treat it at a distance. Sporadic work. Half-hearted progress.

When they choose a book that reflects their real experience, their real voice, and their real audience, something changes.

They write more often. They think more clearly. They move forward.

People finish what they identify with.

Practical Beats Perfect Every Time

That small tree will never be featured anywhere. It will not impress guests. But it will be decorated with intention, handled with ease, and remembered.

A book does not need to be perfect.

It needs to be practical.

It needs a clear promise. A simple structure. A message that can be delivered without strain.

It needs to be something you return to without resistance.

The best book is the one that becomes part of your life, not a project that demands ceremony.

Why This Matters More Than Most Writers Admit

Most people decide to write a book once. Then they stall. Years pass. The idea becomes a weight instead of an opportunity.

Writing a book is not about ambition.

It is about integration.

A book that fits your life becomes an asset. One that fights your life becomes unfinished work you quietly avoid.

This is why strategy matters. Not just writing skill, but scope control. Not just publishing steps, but realistic decisions.

Choosing the right book is the first quiet decision that determines whether anything else happens.

The Tree Is Up. The Lesson Stays.

That small, uneven tree is standing in our home now. It fits. It works. And my kids are proud of it.

Every ornament is placed by their hands.

Every day, it reminds me that good decisions are rarely about size or spectacle.

They are about fit.

If your book idea feels heavy, that is your signal.

If you feel overwhelmed before you write the first chapter, simplify the question.

What fits your life?

What can you finish?

What feels like it belongs to you?

Because the right book is rarely the biggest one.

It is the one you never feel tempted to abandon.

This is the difference between writing a book and designing one.

Manifesto