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REDMASSIVE
JASON LOWE / AUTHORA book in progress
A brutally honest, unexpectedly hopeful book.

YOU SUCK
AT BEING
A DAD.

(and other myths you might believe)

For the dads who love their kids fiercely - and still go to bed wondering if they’re getting any of it right.

Read the featured story ↗Tell me when it's ready →
THE PERFECT DAD?
YEAH. ABOUT THAT.
You Suck at Being a Dad by Jason Lowe — book cover mockup
Plot twist:You probably
don't.
FIRST BOOK. REAL STORIES. STILL WRITING.
FOR THE DADS WHO CARE.
ESPECIALLY WHEN IT DOESN'T FEEL LIKE ENOUGH.Pull up a chair. ↓
01 / Let's get one thing straight.

I don't actually
think you
suck.

I think you care so much that some days, it hurts.

You love your kids. You lose your patience. You say the wrong thing, replay it later, and wonder if every other dad somehow got a manual you missed.

This book lives in that space. The guilt. The comparison. The ridiculous stories. The quiet fear that you're not enough—and the small moments that remind you why you keep showing up.

I'm writing it from the same messy place you're standing in. Four daughters. Plenty of mistakes. A whole lot of love.

No perfect-dad routine required.
Notes from a work in progress.

STILL FIGURING
IT OUT.

Visit the journal ↗
03 / A few things we need to talk about.

THE BULLSH*T
WE TELL OURSELVES.

The ten myths
at the heart of the book.

01

Perfect dads exist.

INSIDE THE CHAPTER

Meet Jimmy: the imaginary perfect dad who somehow makes the rest of us feel like we’re losing. This chapter takes a shovel to the comparison game, the highlight reels, and the impossible man you’ve been measuring yourself against. There’s a difference between wanting to grow and deciding you’re already a failure.

02

Good dads don’t feel guilt.

INSIDE THE CHAPTER

The cereal you forgot. The bedtime story you didn’t have the energy for. The stuff you’re still replaying long after your kids have moved on. A look at what dad-guilt is trying to tell us, what it gets wrong, and how an honest apology can turn a missed moment into a chance to reconnect.

03

The voice in your head never lies.

INSIDE THE CHAPTER

That voice in your head has a lot of opinions for somebody who never helps with the dishes. Here’s a closer look at the fear, old expectations, and familiar criticism hiding behind its certainty - and the work of hearing your kids clearly when your own inner commentary won’t shut up.

04

Quality time can wait.

INSIDE THE CHAPTER

We keep promising ourselves we’ll have more time when work slows down, the bills settle, or life gets a little easier. Meanwhile, the kids keep growing. This chapter follows the ordinary moments - school pickups, conversations, just being there - that can disappear while we’re busy trying to build a better someday.

05

Good dads always know what to do.

INSIDE THE CHAPTER

You think you’re ready for anything. Then somebody gets hurt, the room goes sideways, and suddenly you’re a dad with hair dye on your hands trying to figure out the next move. A chapter about the panic behind the poker face, the need to feel useful, and showing up even when certainty doesn’t.

06

Dads don’t need to apologize.

INSIDE THE CHAPTER

A bad day, a runaway dog, and a daughter who was just trying to wake up. Sometimes the person who needs to do better is us. This chapter gets into apologies that are prompt, honest, and meaningful - and why a quick ‘sorry’ isn’t the same thing as taking responsibility.

07

You’re never going to be enough.

INSIDE THE CHAPTER

Be strong, but vulnerable. Provide, but don’t disappear into work. Protect them, but don’t hold them back. Fatherhood comes with a completely impossible job description. This chapter wrestles with feeling like too much and never enough, and what happens when ‘enough’ stops being a finish line that keeps moving.

08

Discipline is more important than compassion.

ON THE WRITING DESK / IN PROGRESS

Rules can tell a kid what you expect. Compassion helps you understand who’s standing in front of you. I’m exploring what happens when discipline begins with curiosity instead of a need to win - and how boundaries can hold firm without making love feel conditional. This chapter is still taking shape.

09

Cool dads never embarrass their kids.

ON THE WRITING DESK / IN PROGRESS

You can retire the dad jokes, change your shirt, and promise not to dance. You’re probably still going to embarrass somebody. I’m working toward a chapter about being comfortably, lovingly yourself while leaving room for your kids to become themselves, too. There’s more of this story still to write.

10

Good dads don’t need anyone’s help.

ON THE WRITING DESK / IN PROGRESS

Somewhere along the way, we confused being needed with never needing anyone. I’m exploring the friends, co-parents, hard conversations, and helping hands that make fatherhood less lonely - and why asking for support doesn’t make you less of a dad. This closing chapter is still on the writing desk.

Ten myths. One very human job.Read the featured story ↓
Jason Lowe, author of You Suck at Being a Dad
JASON LOWE STILL FIGURING IT OUT.
04 / The guy behind the book.

JASON
LOWE.

Dad of four.
Expert at being a work in progress.

Jason Lowe is an Arkansas writer, designer, musician, former pastor, and dad of four daughters. He’s spent a lot of his life making things. His favorite part is being their dad.

Fatherhood has given him plenty to write about: bedtime stories, hard conversations, spectacular overreactions, and the humbling work of saying, ‘I got that wrong.’ He writes with humor, a few well-placed swear words, and the belief that showing up matters more than looking like you have it all figured out.

You Suck at Being a Dad is his first book, currently in progress. It’s written for the men who care deeply, fall short, get back up, and keep trying because their kids are worth the effort.

Speaking, interviews, or just saying hey ↗
The reason behind all of it.
“I am so grateful
to be your dad.”

This book is dedicated to my four daughters. Thank you for the coolest adventure of my life.

Jason Lowe with his four daughters beside the water at sunset
The people who keep teaching me what matters.
FEATURED STORY / FROM THE BOOK

LADY BUGS.
SLEEPY TOWN.
A SECOND
CHANCE.

A featured excerpt about a bedtime ritual, a long day, and the moment you realize you owe your kids an apology.

PREVIEW COPY / WORK IN PROGRESS
YOU SUCK AT BEING A DADJASON LOWE

From Myth #2: Good dads never feel guilty.

Lady Bugs or Sleepy Town?

A little of the book, while it's still becoming a book.

Read the excerpt ＋Close the excerpt −
My kids grew up with a whole host of games, characters, and stories that I’d share at bedtime to get them to wind down for sleep. We’ve done guided meditations together, I’ve told them stories about me riding bikes all over town with my friends when I was younger, and we’ve even had all-out tickle battles until the energy bug had been banished. But the favorite and most requested bedtime activity? Well, there are two. And I’ll tell you about both.

Lady Bugs

This one is super simple. I’d have them close their eyes and then I’d set the scene. “I want you to imagine that you’re walking through a magical forest, with beautiful giant trees and shimmering soft lights from the fairies all around. Suddenly, you see a ladybug flying toward you!” (make flying noises with my fingers rubbing together, then I land the imaginary bug on their nose. The bug crawls around gently, sweeping over their forehead, cheeks, and eyes for several minutes, until the bug eventually crawls back to the end of their nose and swiftly flies away.) This one works 95% of the time, even to this day.

Sleepy Town

Sleepy town is not as popular with my older kids, but I’ll tell you what they won’t admit - they still love it and it works every time. Have them get comfy and close their eyes. Here’s the script for “going to Sleepy Town”. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Sadie, and her job was to round up all of the animals in the Sleepy Town Kingdom so they could go to sleep for the night. So she climbed up on her horse’s back, and away they went! Clippity-cloppity, clippity-cloppity, clippity-cloppity, all the way to Sleepy Town. On the way to Sleepy Town, she saw a duck!” “Well hellooooo Mr Duck! Would you like to go with us to Sleepy Town?” Mr. Duck - “Why yes I would!” So Mr. Duck cliiiiiiiimbed up on the horse's back, and away they went. Clippity-cloppity, clippity-cloppity, clippity-cloppity, alllllll the way to Sleepy Town. If you do it right, you’ll only need 3-4 animals because the kids will be snoozing in no time. I love watching them drift to sleep while listening to my voice. It gives me a great sense of accomplishment, and a distinct warm and fuzzy feeling in my heart-hole. HOWEVER, there are times when I have still refused to bring the Lady Bugs, or to usher them into the very inner sanctum of Sleepy Town. Taking them to Sleepy Town is a delicate performance to be treated with the utmost respect that any craft actor would have for their art. And after a long day filled with atrocities and frustrations that they have no knowledge of, I just don’t feel like telling a story about a kid riding a magical horse. And I try explaining it to them as such. “Daddy just doesn’t feel like talking you to sleep right now. Can I please just have a single moment to myself?? Why do you always need a story?? Can’t you figure out how to sleep? You’ve done it every night for your whole life!” Then the guilt sets in as I’m about to “gently slam” their door. “Yep…you did it again. You’re getting really good at letting them down. But hey, that’s a good thing. This world isn’t going to be easy on them, and they’ll never get everything they want. It’s best that they learn to deal with disappointment now.” I bet most of you could stop right there and agree that you’ve had a similar internal monologue after skipping out on dad-stuff. I know I have. We try to rationalize and justify our actions and inactions, weighing them on some imaginary cosmic scale, as if there are such clear right-and-wrongs in parenting. We say things like “they will learn to handle it” while trying to make sense of the way WE were raised. “My parents didn’t treat me special either, and I made it out ok.” Justifications are an enemy here. We have to catch ourselves in the moment, and choose to do better - every time. So I turn around slowly, humble-walk over to their bed, hug them tightly, and apologize for being inconsiderate of their needs. Then I say, “Lady Bugs or Sleepy Town?” Get this - even if it’s the only point you remember from this whole book: Prompt, honest, meaningful apologies are a sign of a good dad.
— Jason Lowe
Dad who royally f**ks it up sometimes

If that felt familiar, you're who I'm writing this for.

Come along for the rest →
05 / The book is still being written.

BE HERE
FOR THE
NEXT CHAPTER.

Get book updates, occasional words from the work in progress, and a heads-up when it's ready to read.

No release date yet. You're getting in early.

A conversation is a good place to start.

LET'S TALK.

Speaking, podcast conversations, interviews,
or a story you think I'd like to hear about.

jason@redmassive.com↗