The horror, the horror!

Remember when there was a big storm and my electric went out and I slept with the window open and a SLUG got in my bedroom?

Well.

I never could find the shiny 'slug trail' from the creepy thing's point of entry. As far as Bear and I could tell, the trail started on the carpet right next to the wall near our bedroom door.

WELL.

Yesterday Bear was laying on the bed and he discovered a SLUG TRAIL ON OUR CEILING.

The errant slug had not entered our bedroom from the window furthest from our bed—it had entered the window ABOVE OUR BED—a foot from my head, no less—crawled (or whatever slugs do) all the way up the wall, across the ceiling (DIRECTLY ABOVE MY BED), down the other wall, and then across the carpet until we found him the next morning a foot or so from the bedroom door.

I don't know where he thought he was going, but he ended up flushed down the toilet.

Also, I had closed the window above our bed sometime around 1AM and discovered the slug around 7AM, so apparently, slugs really do crawl (or whatever) veeery slow.

SHUDDER SHIVER YUCK ICK EWWW!

Just thought I'd update y'all on that.

The curious case of the Cadbury cream egg

Anyone else love these delectable little Easter confections?

They show up in stores a few weeks after Valentine's Day, tempting me with their milk chocolate, gooey fondant, and bright foil wrapper every time I enter a store.

I'm infamous for my love of Cadbury cream eggs (not to mention their awesome old-as-I-am clucking animals commercial).

On Sunday, my love for Cadbury cream eggs finally came back and bit me in the... coat.

Sunday I did some laundry. I washed my coat, dried it, transferred my next batch of clothes - permanent press - to the dryer. When those clothes were dry, I spread them out on my bed, hanging and folding.  As I got to the bottom of the pile, I noticed a dried up, quarter-sized chocolate ball in bluish gold foil.

I called for Bear and turned it over in my hand, inspecting the odd little form.

"What could this be?" I breathed.

Bear shrugged.  "Looks like chocolate.  Did it get on any of your clothes?"

I shook my head.  I hadn't seen any chocolate marks on my clothing. In fact, the chocolate seemed to be intact.  What was missing was the... fondant.

But I didn't see any of that on my clothing either.  I went about my day.  A few hours later, I opened the closet to hang a hoodie. That's when my coat caught my eye (and I'm so wishing at this point that I'd taken pictures of it all).

There were streaks of white ALL. OVER. MY. BEST. WINTER. COAT.

I frantically Googled 'how to get fondant out of clothing,' but all I got were Cake Boss-esque tutorials on how to create clothing out of fondant.

Create clothing out of fondant?! I thought.  I want to get the fondant out of my clothing!

And this, my friends, is what led to my very own Failbook-worthy* status:

*My Facebook is for personal use only

I really don't know how this could've happened, mostly because it's unlike me to forget about a Cadbury cream egg. I gobble them up for the 2 months they're on the shelves, stockpiling them as Easter nears.

And coming from the girl who accidentally allowed Olive Garden mints to melt in her good purse and accidentally left a pen in a jean pocket, which then burst in the dryer, covering nearly every pair of jeans Bear and I owned in red ink (most of it came out with a good dose [okay, a whole bottle] of Shout!), you'd think I'd know better.

Alas, this was not the case.

But you can bet I won't be putting chocolate in my pocket again anytime soon.

Now I gotta go check on my coat...

When I Actually Write A Book, You Will Be Acknowledged Blogfest

Glenna Walsh, Blue-Lipstick-wearing, Samurai-sword-wielding extraordinaire, is hosting a
When I Actually Write A Book, You Will Be Acknowledged Blogfest.

To see the list of participants, click here.

The rules:
Write an acknowledgement blurb for 12 people, with 12 reasons. But not just ANY twelve people:

1. 3 people you know IRL.
2. 3 people you know online.
3. 1 person who has died.
4. 1 person you never met.
5. 1 person you met once.
6. 1 couple (so, 2 people).
7. 1 author.

1. My husband: It's hard to put into words what this man means to me, except to say, he is home. Bear has worked hard in order for me to write full-time. He believes in me. He is the most selfless and patient person I know. Not only do I love him with all my heart, I deeply admire him.

 

My aunt, who is quick to compliment, true with criticism, and told me anything I wrote would be interesting.

 

My grandma, for whole-heartedly supporting my writing and keeping me stocked in BABYSITTER CLUB books as a kid.

 

And I'm going to cheat here and add my brother and sister. My brother for being the straight-up, real-life hero he is, and my sister for basically being the awesomest little sister ever created. Anyone who's read MAGGIE knows Maggie and her sister's relationship is extremely contentious - my relationship with my siblings is nothing like that, but they provide me with inspiration nonetheless, so thank you!

 

2. Three people? How about three groups? My YA Highway/Road Trip Wednesday friends, my Twitter buddies, and my favorite bloggy friends, who may or may not also cross over into the aforementioned groups: Sarah Enni, Pam Harris, Marquita Hockaday, Rachel Bateman, and a certain other someone mentioned below...

3. I've been blessed thus far to avoid the pain of personal loss, and I hope to continue that way for a long time. The military has been a defining force in my life, so I'd like to say the men and women who gave their lives in Iraq and Afghanistan. All gave some, but some gave all. As long as I'm alive, you will not be forgotten.

4. Ann M. Martin, for writing the prolific series that captured my interest and filled my shelves for many, many years. At one point in my childhood when my family moved to a different state and I knew no one, Kristy, Claudia, Mary Anne, Stacy, Dawn, Mallory, Jessi, and Abby were my friends.

5. How about Miss Glenna Walsh herself? Technically, we've met a few times, but all over the period of a two week trip to Philly, so I think she counts. Glenna is... pretty much amazing. She is wise beyond her years, lightning witted, deeply compassionate, with the true heart of a writer. Glenna was also a semi-alpha reader for MAGGIE. It is her insistence that what I was writing was actually good that lit a fire under me to finish Maggie's story after languishing in writer's despair for far too long.

6. My mom and stepdad. I am blessed that when I announced I was quitting my job to write a book, my parents looked at me not like I was crazy, but with pride and excitement. They never once questioned me in the three years it took to write MAGGIE, when I barely had the confidence to talk about the project, much less show it to anyone. They are my friends, a source of great comfort, and having been married going on 15 years, loving one another through thick and thin, they are a beautiful example not only to Bear and I, but every married couple.

7. I don't write fanfic or dress as my favorite character for the premieres, but I'm about as big of a (non-crazy) HARRY POTTER fan you will find. Not only has JK Rowling created a beloved bookiverse filled with heartbreakingly beautiful characters and a world detailed enough to be real, she conducts herself in an upright, compassionate manner. And for that, Ms. Rowling, I say thank you.

Want to join in the fun? It's not too late!

Who would you include in your theoretical acknowledgements?

The smell of the Sistine Chapel

"So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that ... I can't learn anything from you [that] I can't read in some f---in' book."  

-GOOD WILL HUNTING (full scene here)

Bear and I just got back from 2 weeks in Massachusetts (ha! After 25 years, visiting the state finally forced me to learn to spell Massachussetts Massachusetts properly). I figured I'd come home with MAGGIE polished and ready to query, but I was lazy while we were gone and made very little progress. I'm now looking at a mid-April query start date.

Oh, well. I had a great time and watched enough cable television to remind me why we don't shell out $60 a month for it (click - Snookie drunkenly dancing - click - couple whining about having to downsize to $400k house - click - pundits yelling at each other about Charlie Sheen).

While in MA, we visited the Freedom Trail in Boston, which is a 2.5 mile self-guided tour weaving it's way through Boston's most historic landmarks. The site I found most special was the Memorial Garden at the Old North Church:

It looks like more like this during the summer:

Source

We didn't get a good shot of the sign, but this is what it says:

THE MEMORIAL GARDEN
This Memorial Garden is to honor the men and women in the Armed Forces and the civilians who have lost their lives in the Afghanistan and Iraq Wars.

We pray for all victims of war.
May their souls and the souls of
all the departed rest in peace.

I paused for a moment of reflection while Bear took some shots of the memorial. When the wind blew, something happened that took my breath away:



The sound and sight of thousands of dog tags clinking in the wind and glinting in the sun? The video doesn't begin to do it justice.

It sounded like bells, eerie and beautiful and poignant.

And no matter how much I read about the Memorial Garden, I would never have known about this most special and fitting detail had I not seen it myself. For me, that small detail elevated the memorial from something I was examining to something I was experiencing.

If you keep an eye out for it, I suspect you'll find many of these instances in your own life, too. Some of my most detail-rich memories include:

Standing before Stonehenge in a misty rain, realizing it's actually sorta small...
Laying on the couch as a kid with a BABYSITTER'S CLUB book, a glass of pink lemonade, and a bowl of buttered popcorn...
Looking out the window of a plane, watching the Northern Lights dance in the dark sky...
Sitting in the bleachers at Fenway Park, picking salt off a pretzel as Big Papi hit a homerun...
Throwing my heels aside on my wedding day, not caring my white dress was dragging the dusty floor...
Eating gelato with a little plastic spoon on the steps of the Smithsonian in Washington, DC...
Seeing my brother's plane land, hugging him and feeling the grit of 'moon dust' on his uniform...
Retreating into the cool, sun-dappled woods on a scorching day at Valley Forge...

All experiences that are undeniably unique, each made rich by the tiniest details that no amount of reading, hearing, or watching from afar could conjure. This is true of even the simplest of things: the sound of your dog snoring at the end of the bed, the excitement of seeing a hummingbird flash through the air, the smell of honeysuckle in the back yard...

Life is in the details.

Tell me about a time in your life when the little details made all the difference...

Bucket List Blogfest: 5 Things

Today is the Bucket List Blogfest, hosted by Mo at Swim - Write - Run.

The purpose is to list 5 things you'd like to achieve before you kick the bucket.

I met 2 of my biggest Bucket List goals in 2010 (finishing a novel and going to London), so I'm still kind of deciding on new long-term goals (hey, they're harder to come up with than you might think!). However, here are my 5 biggest goals:

Travel as much as possible.
Specifically, I want to spend a couple weeks in Paris, and I'd love to backpack across Europe. Also on my list are Hawaii, Ireland, Germany, Spain, Athens, Niagara Falls, the Grand Canyon, and somewhere with perfect turquoise water.

See games at all 30 Major League Baseball parks.
So far, I've seen games at Camden Yards, (the new) Yankee Stadium, Nationals Park, and (being a huge Red Sox fan) Fenway Park. One of my goals was to see a Yankees @ Red Sox game, and Bear and I did this in 2009. :)

Visit Auschwitz-Birkenau. 
This sounds morbid, but I am a firm believer in the phrase, "Those who fail to remember history are condemned to repeat it." What occurred at Auschwitz is one of the greatest examples of evil the world has ever seen, and I feel by seeing it firsthand I would not only be enriching my understanding but paying tribute to those who lived and died within the camp. I felt the same way about visiting Ground Zero, which Bear and I visited in 2009.

YA Highwayer Kristin Halbrook visited Auschwitz-Birkenau last year and blogged about her experience. It is a post I highly recommend reading.

Give back.
Continue to support Wounded Warrior Project and other charities that aids veterans and their families, especially veterans of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, whom will always hold a special place in my heart. ♥

Do my best, be kind, love.
Since 9/11, I've become keenly aware of the profound suffering in the United States and abroad. I want to live a life that hurts as few people as possible, attempting whenever I can to make others' lives better. I want to grow closer to God. I want to represent the Christian faith in a positive light. I want to represent myself and my family in a positive light. I want to do right by my parents, my siblings, and the rest of my family. I want to continue to be a loving wife, hopefully mastering my temper and other flaws as I grow older. Mostly, I want to spend my life surrounded by loved ones.

In the end, I want to try to live like this:

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.
-Mother Teresa

My prayers are with the people of Japan and all others affected by the devastation unfolding today.

Bittersweet technology

Technology is a funny thing.

Digital photography has revolutionized the act of taking a picture. It's made professional photography a calling for the masses. Allowed us to take as many pictures as we'd like, experiment without the expense of developing film, let us know instantly whether a photo is what we envisioned.

It's also taken some of the specialness out of snapping a picture.

For those of you in your 20s and older, do you remember how cool it was having your picture taken by a Polaroid camera? It was like... whoa... me... picture... developed... instantly.

The affordability of digital cameras has afforded us an arrogance that's leeched meaning from both the process and the product.

For example: sometimes I think I try too hard to capture every moment, and maybe along the way, I'm missing a little of the magic.

This was illustrated to me by (I believe) two Dutch men back in August. Ash and I booked tickets to ride The London Eye at sunset while we were in England, and there we were, snap-snap-snapping pictures, trading cameras with the other people in our pod so we could all have pictures of ourselves against the dazzling backdrop of the budding London night. I asked one of the Dutch men if he would take a picture of Bear and I, which he did gladly. Then I asked if he'd like me to take a picture of him and his friend. He politely declined.

"We got a few photos," he said. "Now we're just soaking it in."

That made me think. I've had a digital camera since 2003, and at least half the time I leave the house to go to dinner or the park or the beach, my camera is in my purse. In some ways, having the camera is fun. It gives you something to do when your food takes too long to arrive, or when the sun's rays are just too hot and you have to retreat to the shade for a bit.

At some point, though, the camera takes over the experience, and you are no longer capturing moments, you're manufacturing photo-ops. 

This makes me sound like all I do is sit behind a camera and click — that's not true. I'm mindful of the moment. But I can do a better job of taking a few great pictures and then retiring the camera for the night.

Not only would that free me to actually enjoy the company of those I would otherwise be click-click-clicking, it would limit my options when it comes time to transfer the pictures to my computer.  Because, um... raise your hand if you have too many pictures on your hard drive. Now raise your other hand if you can't remember the last time you actually had pictures developed.

Yeah. 

It's overwhelming: going through folder after folder, wading through fuzzy shots and poor lighting and series of pictures that are all basically the same and trying to figure out which of the 100-and-something shots of that night at Red Lobster is worth paying 25 cents per picture for...

I have an album of mine and Bear's first year together. After that, I got a digital camera and, save our wedding photos, pretty much stopped getting pictures developed.

It's high time I change that.  I'm pledging now to be more mindful of the photos I take, and how long I take them. I don't need 10 shots of the same flower. I don't need 200 pictures from our annual Christmas party. What I want is meaningful shots. An album of them. Dedicated to preserving mine and Bear's life experiences, so that once the bright memories of today fade, I'll have tangible reminders of life back when the second millenium was new.

I think my future self will thank me.

Give and take

We can apply this lesson to nearly anything — work and play, spend and save, want and need. One of the greatest issues people struggle with, especially in a culture where the "We Can Have It All" anthem is blared on metaphorical repeat from the time we are children, is finding balance. So far, one of the most rewarding aspects of getting older is finding balance in my life, one teensy bit at a time.

One of the areas I've struggled most to achieve balance in is saying no and not letting myself be taken advantage of. You know those people who are kind to a fault? Yeah. That's me.

I used to offer my time freely. I was a very helpful person. I was that person you could always count on. It made me feel good. I'd go totally out of my way for someone, bend over backwards, every other helpful cliche you could think of. That was me.

And I got burned.

It got to the point where I had unwittingly surrounded myself with chronic takers. Maybe they didn't mean to, maybe they did. Either way, my life was full of people who had no problem asking for more but gave little or nothing back. It was particularly bad around the time I quit my job to write. So many people felt I had nothing better to do than help them with their junk work.

Eventually, I got burned out. I felt used up, taken for granted. It affected my self-esteem. I couldn't grasp why, when I was being so kind, I kept getting selfishness back. And it wasn't like I was recording everything I'd ever done for anybody and was upset the friendship wasn't reciprocated quid pro quo. It was that I was there, there, there, but when I needed something, even simple things... crickets chirped.

I stopped giving. I stopped doing anything for anyone. Need help? Oh, sorry. I can't. I'm not becoming that person again. It was hard — I hate saying no, and I hate disappointing people, but after a while I began to feel better.

Slowly, I became someone completely against my nature, completely against my beliefs. I was snuffing out one of the best aspects of my personality.

After talking it over with my family and praying, I realized that I needn't change who I was. I needn't fret over the selfish nature of others. What I needed to do was change my reaction. I realized I didn't owe anyone anything, no matter how or how many times they asked. Especially if it wasn't convenient for me.

I've learned to say, "Sorry, that doesn't work for me," and, "I appreciate you thinking of me, but that isn't possible right now," and a couple other stock phrases that help me say no. It sounds cheesy, but when you're grasping for the right words and your nature so wants to blurt out, "Sure!" even though you know you can't/shouldn't, it helps.

I still struggle with saying no. I want so badly to be nice and help out. But I know from experience that if I don't respect my time and talent, others won't either.

Don't let people use you. But don't stopper your kindness, either.

Sometimes it's too easy for things to be misconstrued

I mostly talk about writing on this blog, but I feel strongly about this, so here goes:

I posted this on my (personal) Facebook this morning, but quickly took it down, having decided there was too much room to offend or lead people to believe it was about them in particular, when it isn't really about anyone specific, but more of the attitude I've experienced over the last few years:

I don't have a smart phone, I don't have cable, I don't get mani-pedis or expensive haircuts, and I think a $10 shirt is too expensive. Maybe people should think about that before they make snarky comments about things we are able to do. It ain't cause I got benjamins stacked to the ceiling, it's because I've got my priorities straight.

Let me start by saying: Bear and I are very blessed. Bear has a job that allows us to have everything we need and some of what we want, including me being able to stay home to write.

That's one of the lovelier things about America, right? Even in the middle of a recession (and I live in one of the poorest areas of my state) people are still able to afford some things they want.

But it's also in part because we've managed to stay away from many of the trappings of modern life that, you know, kinda cost out the yin-yang.

Since we graduated college, we've occasionally faced an attitude I find extremely upsetting, one which essentially looks at what we have from the outside and says, oh, you do this or that, so you must be rich.

Well, for one thing, 'rich' is relative. If you compare me to the average person in Colombia or Nigeria or Afghanistan, heck yeah, I'm rich, and so are you. But compared to people here, other Americans? I'm solidly middle class — and happy with that. Sure, there are single mothers and elderly people on fixed incomes and homeless people, but align me with my peers, other healthy, working-age Americans, and I'm pretty darn average.

However, some look at aspects of our life and think because we are able to do certain things, like go to the movies or on trips, that we are rolling.

One, that's simply not the truth. Two, I grew up very humbly, and to be called rich is an insult to me; to me, rich means excess and greed. I don't particularly like money, and I'm one of the least materialistic people I know. In a personality full of flaws, that's one of my more winning aspects. The thing that amazes me is that occasionally we get comments on our finances (which is such a no-no anyway) from people who only see half the picture — what we have, but not what we don't have.

That's frustrating. I don't like when a person with an iPhone, newly manicured nails, and a $150 cable bill tries to make me feel guilty because I'm doing something they would like to do or have something they would like to have, but can't afford because they spent their fun money on other types of wants.

And that's not to say any of the things listed above are bad — if that is how you choose to spend your extra money, cool. But don't try to make me feel bad. I'm certainly not going to guilt trip you because you have the super sweet, shiny new phone with Facebook and Google apps that I really like, but don't buy because I have my money reserved for something else.

And let's not forget, either: 'necessities' are shelter, food, medicine, safety, and love (and remember, in the wise words of J-Lo, "Love don't cost a thing"). Anything else is a want. You want a smart phone, you want pretty French tips, you want satellite television, just as I want to do the things I'm doing and buy the things I'm buying.

And guess what? I suspect unless you really are one of those for-real rich people, you will never have enough money to afford everything you want — that's the nature of humanity. We get some, we want more. Happiness is learning how to distribute the finite resources you do have to best meet your needs and wants, and accepting that as it is.

So yeah, I travel. I'm probably going to see a movie at the theatre this weekend. But before you point a finger and try to make me feel bad for enjoying the fruits of our hard work (and let's face it, blessings, because no matter how hard you work, it can all be ripped from you at any moment), maybe you should think about all the things you have that I don't. Because I'm fine with what I don't have — I made a conscious decision to spend my money on one thing and not another.

But if you find yourself making those kinds of comments, you probably need to sit down and review your own situation.

If you want one thing, sometimes you have to give another up. That's life. But don't make someone else feel bad because you aren't making good choices.

I WON! ...a sense of belonging?

Don't forget to enter THE TABBY CATT's very first contest, In Like A Lion, by Friday, March 5 at 5PM for a chance to win your choice of 1 of 4 awesome books!

I was sitting in my hotel room eating leftover bread and butter (food-wise, I'd do okay in prison) and a cupcake, reading through my exponentially growing daily blog list, when I noticed Michelle McLean had announced the winner of her Celebration Contest. I'd entered several other contests recently and won none, so I wasn't expecting anything. Lo and behold, though, I scrolled down to Silver Medalist, and whose name was there?

Mine!

I looked at it a moment, confused. Did two Abby Stevenses enter? Did it actually say Abby Annis, and my eyes were playing tricks on me?

But nope! It was MY name! As Silver Medalist, I won the choice between a query critique by Michelle and her agented writer friends (at least 5 as of the posting of her blog) or a signed copy of Jessica Verday's THE HOLLOW and a perfume sample set featuring scents inspired by her characters.

I was very tempted to take THE HOLLOW prize pack, because I love free stuff - especially signed free stuff - and the book sounds great (I've added it to my 'to read' list), but in the end, a query critique by a published author and her agented friends was too good to pass up.

On the way to Philly yesterday, we were listening to Colin Cowherd on ESPN Radio when Cowherd said he thought the reason the Olympics are so successful is because, in a society of too many choices - television, movies, music, radio, everything - we rarely experience moments of shared emotion on a grand scale.

You made us proud, buddy!

The Olympics definitely gave us the opportunity to feel like part of something this February. Every time I logged into Twitter, people were tweeting about the Olympics. Online and off, people gathered together to watch, ooh-and-aah when our country won, wince when it lost, and lap up the drama, patriotism, and competition - together.
 
More often than not, bonding moments are born of tragedy - Hurricane Katrina, the 2004 Tsunami, last month's earthquake in Haiti, and of course, 9/11. We all remember crowding desperately around a television with strangers or coworkers or classmates and seeing the planes hit the Towers, feeling a collective sense of mourning. We remember Congress gathering on the steps of the Capitol Building to sing, "God Bless America" and feeling proud and bittersweet. Moments like those are important because they help us unite and do something to overcome.
 
Happily, there are also moments that unite us for good reasons. Every two years, the summer and winter Olympics do this, as do television shows and movies on a regular basis. The previous generation gathered together to watch the series finale of MASH. We gathered to watch the series finale of FRIENDS. In the 70s, everyone saw ROCKY multiple times. In the 90s, we did that for TITANIC. Now, we are doing it for AVATAR.

Sorry AVATAR fans, but I prefer Jack and Rose over Neytiri and Jake.

 
And while we experience these moments of shared emotion and belonging more often with movies and television, we also experience them with books. People love to belong, to be part of something. It's why millions of fans are devoted to HARRY POTTER and TWILIGHT and LORD OF THE RINGS. It's not just the awesome characters and the immersive worlds that draw them in - it's a sense of belonging to a group of people that "get" some small part of you.

  Gollum and his Precious want to belong, too.

For me, the books I most experience this with are GONE WITH THE WIND and HARRY POTTER. It is so enjoyable to discover that someone else has read and loved GWTW, and fun to rehash all of Scarlett and Rhett's scheming ways. For HP, even though I am not deeply invested in the fan culture (no Quidditch matches for me), I am thrilled when I meet someone with whom I can discuss the smallest, most insignificant ins and outs of the series - because really, most people just don't care that Mundungus Fletcher was mentioned in the first couple chapters of SORCERER'S STONE!
 
What shared experiences have you been a part of? What books give you a sense of belonging?

Wisdom teeth and lessons learned

I had my wisdom teeth out on Thursday. During my recuperation (during which time my husband kindly took off work and cared for me without complaint), I have realized two things:

1.) I am taking my time finishing this book because I am terrified of what people will think about it.  I also realized that caring too much what others think is bad for business. I must write what I think is fun/real/entertaining and hope that, because the human condition is shared by all, others will relate to and enjoy my story.

Authors say that you musn't care what others think of your work. This is true and yet not true because, inherently, if you want your work to be read by others, you must worry what someone thinks (agent, editor, publisher, etc.) - however, the lesson I pull from this is to write your very best and let the chips fall where they may. All you can do is your best, right?

2.) Bad experiences can make you a better writer. For every bad experience you endure, it makes you wiser and stronger, more aware of yourself and the nuances of the particular experience. One day I may need to write a wisdom tooth extraction and I will write it more realistically for having had the painful experience myself. That's not to say go looking for trouble, gloom, or doom, but if you've dealt with something bad/painful/scary, it can only make you a richer person (and thus writer) for having experienced it.

Who knew having your wisdom teeth extracted might make you a little wiser?