So Why Does This Project Exist?
I didn’t start this with a plan. I started with a feeling: that something was wrong with how we’re all living and that no one was naming it in a way that felt honest, human, or unfiltered.
I live in the United States, where community is often discussed like a nostalgic artifact, not a living practice. Where people are surrounded by content but starving for conversation. Where friendship is sometimes reduced to a comment under a photo. Where healing is sold in courses but rarely witnessed in person.
It didn’t always feel like this. But I didn’t realize how much I was aching for connection until I left. While spending time in Switzerland, I saw something quieter but more intact: people greeting each other in the street. Meals shared between neighbors. Less polished performance, more daily interdependence. It wasn’t perfect, but it reminded me what real community felt like. It reminded me what we’ve lost, and what might still be possible.
This project exists because I want to make space for that possibility again.
I’m not here to sell a solution. I’m not here to center myself. That’s why I’m writing anonymously, because the story isn’t about me. It’s about the ache you’ve been carrying quietly. The sharp little truths you haven’t said out loud. The part of you that looks around and thinks, surely this isn’t all there is.
The books, 6:01 A.M. and 10:01 P.M., are not memoirs or a self-help guide. It’s fiction. But it’s built from emotional fact. It takes place over one day inside one woman’s mind, but it opens a window into the structures and stories so many of us have internalized: perfectionism, caretaking, class mobility, generational shame, mother wounds, and masked ambition.
And maybe more importantly, this isn’t just about the book. This is about how we read it. With whom. In what kinds of spaces. This is about rebuilding circles. About making something that doesn’t demand attention, but earns trust. About giving those with access a way to help redistribute it. About people just meeting for coffee with a copy of this book and realizing they’re not broken, they’re just under-connected.
This project isn’t just literature. It’s infrastructure.
You can scroll past it, or you can sit with it. You can read it alone, but you’re not meant to. And if you can’t afford it, someone already paid for you, because that’s how community is supposed to work. So reach out to me and I will do what I can.
This project exists because we needed something to remind us how to be with each other again.
It starts with a book.
It keeps going with you.
Ethical Capitalism
Ethical capitalism, to me, means actively designing a business where money moves toward community rather than accumulation. It means setting clear limits on executive pay, reinvesting profits into tangible community resources, and ensuring transparency about where every dollar goes. It rejects the idea that a founder or CEO deserves unchecked wealth simply due to their position. Instead, it ensures that success directly funds things like accessible pricing, fair wages, and community initiatives- creating measurable impact rather than private wealth. This isn’t theoretical; it’s practical, deliberate, and accountable.
I’ve been called an idealist throughout my life more times than I can count. But really, I’m just exploiting the system that’s already here. This isn’t simply a book; it’s a mechanism for intentional redistribution, a practical model that every for-profit company could adopt if they wanted to.
So How Will I Do This?
Tess Noven was never created to fit into the publishing industry. This project exists to subvert it. We believe that emotional insight, healing language, and stories that make you feel seen should not be reserved for those with disposable income. The insights inside 6:01 A.M. and 10:01 P.M. were earned through lived experience, not privilege and they are meant to reach everyone who needs them.
That’s why we use a progressive access model to redistribute any monetary gain this book generates. Profits won’t accumulate in private accounts; instead, they’ll directly fund:
- equitable book distribution, subsidized or free copies for underserved communities. Bulk donations are delivered to shelters, public schools, libraries, prisons, and reentry programs, no red tape. This is just exploiting a for profit capitalist structure for good
- fair pay for artists and collaborators. Any money generated due to another artist’s work will be given directly to them. But I will only partner with people who believe in this model like I do. I’ll set explicit salary caps based on growth and sales, including my own as founder, and transparently share financials with the community supporting this work, and
- ongoing projects designed to foster genuine, in-person connections. I have many ideas and future novels to come.
This isn’t charity- it’s intentional design. Through transparent, tiered pricing structures, middle- and upper-income readers don’t just buy books; they actively fund equitable access for others. They’re not merely readers; they’re patrons of community-driven distribution. And let’s be clear- capitalism actually supports this. As the founder and CEO, I could technically do whatever the hell I want with the profits. But I choose to recalibrate, using that freedom intentionally, making sure privilege directly fuels accessibility.