The story began its life over 12 years ago as I was getting ready to return to the UK from New Zealand.
From nowhere came a loud question in my head. Why did I leave my family, home, career behind and travel to the other side of the world?
The reality hit me. I was running away from the responsibilities that my position in the family had bestowed on me. Namely the pin, the cog that kept everything ticking. I didn't want that anymore. I couldn't take another drama and tragedy, they had worn me down over the years and I had hit a wall.
I began to write People Like Us, creating chapters dedicated to key members of my family. The words came crashing down on paper. When I read them back it was a horrifying reality of what we as a family family had endured. If I hadn't lived this life, I would not believe what I was reading.
I haven't added a single word to the story for several years, putting it aside and asking myself it deserves a place in my world or is it a terrible reminder of past events that are best left where they are.
I am still unsure.
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