In the words of Donald Rumsfeld, former US secretary of state for defence, in the wake of the 9/11 terror attacks, "There are known knowns. These are things we know that we know. There are known unknowns. That is to say, there are things that we know we don't know. But there are also unknown unknowns. There are things we don't know we don't know." He was talking about a seminal moment in international history of course, but you could pretty much say the same of the most mundane of tasks, the drive to work on a Monday morning, or the checking of the salad drawer when cleaning the fridge. Only so much in life can be anticipated and the road being closed because an old lady hit the gas when she meant to brake, or the unusually short lived carrot you forgot a month ago are unknowable.

I sometimes ask myself what possessed me to try to make this book. I'm not qualified. I can barely write a tweet without hitting the O when I mean the I. I can tell a story. I have significant lived experience of poverty which is rare in publishing and ongoing living experience every single day of my life. I am right now writing this from a freezing cold room, having had no breakfast because money for either bread or gas credit isn't available right this moment. I know how to give a ropey old car it's best shot at the MOT, or braid a little girls hair to distract from her third hand school disco outfit. I know 6 ways to kill mould on walls and in what shops to find the winter socks with the tog rating. But I don't know how to make a book. I know why I want to. I know why I need to. I know the living breathing realities of being poor in the modern UK aren't going to be told to you accurately by privately educated journalists or visiting professionals in low income communities. I know how the poor talk about ourselves within our own safe spaces, and how we talk to others outside of this bubble. I know what you watched on daytime telly, and primetime. I can read those sane papers, magazines, books. I can feel on a powerful, instinctive level, a voice that isn't being expressed and that doesn't reach your consciousness through the normal channels. The fears and sufferings, the triumphs and gains, the parts left unsaid, the truths. I know what it is that burns to be corrected and what you already are finding out. It keeps me awake at night, why can't you see, why don't you know? If no-one is telling you, why would you know? I must tell you. I have this project. I can find you voices to shine a light into a corner of your own communities, which you think you see and yet are entirely oblivious of... Or I could... if I knew what I was doing.

There were always known unknowns. I didn't know how I would find writers from among the British poor, or what words like typesetting even meant in the digital age. I haven't a clue how to market a book, or what a book cover should include. I'm out of my depth and I always knew I would be, which is why Unbound and their collaborative approach have always been central to this book happening.

It's the unknown unknowns that bite hardest. I've got more unwell lately. I have a chronic condition/ disability called M.E. (Myalgic Encephalomyelitis) which renders me largely unable to work, there has been a cost of living crisis which has posed a real and serious threat and it's coincided with the hard parts of making One In Five a reality. I always wanted to put these stories and these works together myself, but wishing and wanting and boiling in frustration isn't getting us there and I am now so far past deadlines people have probably met and married in that gap! So the exceptionally lovely team at Unbound and I have reworked the plan. A fair bit of what I was down to do, will be moved over to professional editors, with me retaining final oversight. That means contributors can expect to hear from team members with emails ending (at) Unbound (dot) com in the near future. I may be crashing out of life on all fronts right now, but One In Five is not. Like that Monday morning commute, it's hit trouble, but ways round are being navigated and it's just going to take longer. I can't tell you how indebted I am to the generous patience of backers and contributors to this project. Really, thanks yeah, from the bottom of my heart. I am not used to roadblocks resulting in novel solutions and work arounds- I am poor, where I come from life is precarious and just one late pay packet can lose you your transport, job, home and family. I've been resisting and trying to push myself back to it because I haven't wanted One In Five to die. We need it. It has to exist. One In Five isn't going to die. She's down but she's not out. We rise again, because of the incredible professional Unbound team, because of the staggering talent of the contributors and because of your patience as supporters. It's going to be worth it.