But I am learning that perfection isn't what matters. In fact, it's the very thing that can destroy you if you let it.

Inevitably I draw on my own relationships when I write, so if I'm writing about a fight between a husband and his wife, of course I'm going to think about a recent fight with my husband. Or if I'm writing about sisters, of course I'm going to think about my sister.

I try to write about real women, real people - in other words flawed characters.

Maybe that's what it all comes down to. Love, not as a surge of passion, but as a choice to commit to something, someone, no matter what obstacles or temptations stand in the way. And maybe making that choice, again and again, day in and day out, year after year, says more about love than never having a choice to make at all.

Guilt is a supreme waste of time and energy.

Often I feel that projects overwhelm us when we look at how many hours are involved until completion. But just getting started is usually not that difficult.

In the final seconds before sleep, I wish I could go back and undo everything, give those little girls another chance.