'What are you writing now?' my uncle asked me as I sat waiting for my mum.
It was the Christmas party and everyone had been asking me the same question.
'I'm writing book three of a trilogy called Deadliners,' I replied, grabbing my plate of party food and eating a sausage roll. The traditional British party buffet was always welcomed at my mum's house.
'Great! How did you get into writing?' he asked, taking a sip of his lager.
'I've always enjoyed writing, but I started to take it seriously when I broke up with a boyfriend as a teenager. I found writing helped me to deal with it.'
He smiled at me and nodded, the kind look in his eyes showed me that he understood.
'It's funny how pain often inspires us,' he said as my mum called us to attention.
'I know. I used to read to escape and deal with life, but then writing proved to do a better job,' I laughed.
He nodded again and turned away as my mother handed out raffle tickets.
I sat watching my family as they ate food and played games. Each person had a story to tell. Everyone had been through pain at some point in their life, but they were all still here. They were making the most of being around each other and celebrating who they were. I smiled gently to myself, wondering how they told their story.
How are you telling your story?