7 Unexpected Lessons from Jannell Lo's 4-Year Journey to a Published Cookbook (And Why Linear Progress is a Myth)
Photo courtesy of Jannell Lo
Nobody signed up for my class.
It sat there on the Cherry Bombe member directory for two months—a digital ghost of what I thought would be a thriving workshop about book proposals. I’d completely forgotten about it. But thank goodness someone didn’t delete it, and kept it alive.
Then Jannell Lo found it.
She was deep in COVID lockdown, burning with the desire to write the cookbook she'd always dreamed of creating. Four years later, her debut My BF is GF: 100+ Asian-Inspired Recipes for Bringing People Together launches into the world through Penguin Random House Canada.
What happened between that cold email and this launch week reveals everything authors need to know about the real creative process—not the Instagram-filtered version, but the messy, nonlinear, surprisingly joyful reality of bringing a book to life.
If you're working on a cookbook (or any creative project) and feeling stuck in rigid expectations about how it "should" unfold, this conversation will give you permission to find your own path.
When Activism Becomes Your Author Platform (Without You Realizing It)
Spring 2021 brought a wave of horrific anti-Asian violence. Videos of elderly Asian people being pushed, spat on, attacked filled social media. Jannell felt completely helpless.
Inspired by chef Paola Velez's Bakers Against Racism initiative for Black Lives Matter, Jannell created Dump the Hate—a call for people to make dumplings, sell them to friends and family, and donate proceeds to Asian organizations.
She set up a simple website on her blog. A friend created graphics for social media. She had no idea what would happen next.
People made over 45,000 dumplings and raised nearly $500,000. Press outlets, magazines, and teachers reached out. She was suddenly doing media interviews and helping create educational curriculum—all while still figuring out her cookbook dream.
Here's what she didn't realize at the time: She was building her author platform.
When she finally sent her cold email to Appetite (an imprint of Penguin Random House Canada) with her book proposal a year or so later, she included all that press coverage. By the time she got on the call with the publisher and her editor, they'd read everything—every article, every feature.
"I realized I didn't need to convince them anymore," Jannell told me. "They were already convinced."
The lesson? You don't build platform by trying to build platform. You build it by doing work that matters deeply to you, that connects with your community, that solves a real problem or fills a genuine need.
Jannell wanted to help her Asian community. That authentic drive created ripples that eventually became the credibility foundation for her cookbook deal.
The Book Proposal Truth Nobody Tells You (It's Your Secret Weapon)
Most aspiring authors view the book proposal as a hurdle—a necessary evil to get to the "real" work of writing the book.
Jannell discovered the opposite was true.
"The proposal is essentially a business plan," she explained. "You have to pitch your idea in this big document to anyone who's willing to take it and give you a deal. But that is your chance to be super clear."
We spent months getting her proposal right. Not perfect—right. We:
Mapped out her complete marketing plan
Identified competitive titles that would sit beside hers on shelves
Defined her target audience with laser precision
Crystallized her WHY (celebrating gluten-free Asian cuisine inspired by her Chinese-Canadian upbringing and her husband Reed's celiac disease)
Documented her press coverage and platform metrics
When she finally started writing her manuscript after securing her book deal, that proposal became her roadmap. On days when she felt lost or overwhelmed, she could return to it and remember exactly what she was building and why.
"By working with you, I was able to get clear on my overview, my promotional plan, the competitive titles," she said. "That framework helped me write my manuscript."
Most writers rush through the proposal to get to the manuscript. But a solid proposal doesn't just get you a book deal—it makes writing the actual book exponentially easier.
Think of it this way: Would you rather spend three months building a detailed map before a cross-country road trip, or wing it with a vague sense of "heading west"?
The proposal is your map. The manuscript is your journey. You'll still take unexpected detours (more on that next), but you'll never be truly lost.
Why Your 8am Writing Routine Might Be Killing Your Creativity
Jannell did everything the productivity gurus recommend.
When she moved across the country to Vancouver, she set up her perfect writing space. She committed to sitting at her desk every single morning at 8am to write.
"I kept thinking, once I get to North Vancouver, once I settle into my new place, that's when I'll have the time and space to write as well as I want to write," she said.
And then she got there. Sat down. Opened her laptop.
Nothing.
"I would stare at my computer and wonder what was happening, because nothing was coming to me."
The problem? She'd put so much pressure on getting to that seat that she wasn't gathering inspiration along the way. The rigid structure wasn't unlocking her creativity—it was strangling it.
The shift came when she gave herself permission to break her own rules:
She took her laptop to cafes to brainstorm instead of forcing desk time
She visited farmers markets when words wouldn't come
She wrote whatever section had energy that day—acknowledgements one morning, recipe headnotes the next, introduction pieces when those felt right
"I'm not a person to do something completely linear," she realized. "I didn't write the book from introduction to acknowledgements. I wrote it in pieces."
The real breakthrough came during her month-long photo shoot with her photographer friend Jessica and her sister Janet. The hands-on collaboration, the visual creation, the physical act of building and styling dishes—it all reignited her writing energy.
"After that month focusing on the photo shoot, I still had four months to wrap things up," she said. "The writing just came so much more easily."
Your creative process doesn't have to look like anyone else's. In fact, it shouldn't.
The "Hot Garbage" Philosophy That Gets Books Written
I have a blog post I share with every writer I coach: "How to Strengthen Your Writing Process by Writing Hot Garbage”.
The concept is simple: You can't edit a blank page. You need words—any words—to work with. Even if those words are terrible.
Jannell embraced this philosophy during her manuscript phase, and it transformed everything.
"I can write essentially hot garbage, like you always told me to write," she laughed during our conversation. "Then filter out the gold from the hot garbage."
Here's the truth most writing advice won't tell you: Perfectionism kills more books than anything else.
Writers email me constantly asking for deadline extensions. They're not asking because they're lazy or uncommitted—they're asking because they're terrified. What they've written doesn't feel good enough. They need "just a little more time" to make it better.
But perfectionism is a trap. It's procrastination wearing a productivity mask.
The breakthrough comes when you accept that your first draft is supposed to be rough. That's literally its job. You can't assess quality until you have quantity. You can't sculpt a statue from a blank block of marble—you need the marble first.
Jannell learned to silence her inner critic during drafting. She wrote messily. She followed tangents. She put words on pages even when they felt clumsy.
Then—and only then—did she go back and refine.
"We're so hard on ourselves," she reflected. "When I got your notes back, it was always encouraging. I'd think, oh, she's seeing it in a different light."
The gold was always there. She just had to give herself permission to dig through some dirt first.
What Actually Happened When She Got "The Call"
August 2022. Jannell had spent months perfecting her book proposal. She started sending cold emails to literary agents.
Then she found Appetite's contact information directly on their website. Appetite is an imprint of Penguin Random House Canada, and unlike most publishers, they list their email publicly.
"This is a long shot," she thought. "But I'm just gonna try. Why not?"
Six weeks later, they responded.
The publisher Robert and her editor Whitney wanted to set up a call. They were excited about her idea.
"In that call, I realized I didn't need to convince them anymore," Jannell said. "They were already convinced."
They'd read everything—her entire proposal, every press article, every piece of coverage from Dump the Hate. They understood her vision for celebrating gluten-free Asian cuisine. They saw how her Chinese-Canadian upbringing and her husband's celiac disease created a unique perspective the cookbook world needed.
"To be seen and heard in that way... everything felt like it aligned," she said.
This is what I want every aspiring author to understand: Publishers need you as much as you need them. They're searching for voices, perspectives, and stories that will resonate with readers. When you show up confident in your work, clear about your vision, and backed by a solid platform, you're offering them a solution.
You're not begging for an opportunity. You're presenting a mutual benefit.
Jannell got her cookbook deal without an agent, through one cold email, because her proposal was that strong and her platform was that authentic.
That's the power of doing the foundational work right.
The Four-Year Lesson: Put Your Work Out There
Four years from cold email to published cookbook. From "nobody signed up for my class" to "my book hits shelves this week."
Jannell's journey proves that creative success isn't about following someone else's formula—it's about finding what works for YOU. It's about building a platform through authentic work that matters to your community. It's about having the courage to write hot garbage so you can find the gold. It's about embracing nonlinear progress and trusting the messy process.
If you're working on a cookbook (or any creative project), remember: The timeline doesn't matter. The perfect routine doesn't exist. What matters is showing up consistently, staying true to your vision, and being willing to adjust your process when something doesn't feel right.
Now go put that thing out there. Someone's searching for exactly what you're creating.
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