My religious upbringing was comically strict — even the Dirt Devil vacuum cleaner was banned. In our house, no one was allowed to refer to deviled eggs. We had to call them angelic eggs. We were never allowed to swear. I'd get into trouble just for saying 'Hell no'. If you dropped a hammer on your toe in our house you had to say something like 'Jiminy Christmas'. The only music we were allowed to listen to was gospel. No wonder I rebelled.

There are a lot of things that are personally uncomfortable to show, especially me without makeup and completely bloated or crying. But I’ve realized that it’s time for me to show my audience that you don’t have to be perfect to achieve your dreams. Because nobody relates to being perfect.

When I was meeting people in L.A., guys always thought if they paid for dinner, they deserved a blow job. But generally, I'll say this - and I'll say it proudly - I can't sleep with someone if I don't have a connection with them.

I love hearing my song on the radio the first time, but when it comes on again, I change the station. I already have so much of the spotlight on me. I don't need any more.

You dig deep beyond those scars and find that soft tissue again, and you massage and nurture it and bring it to life, little by little, through serving yourself well. I did it through hikes and vitamins and therapy and prayer and good friends.

I wanted it to be like Amy Grant, but it didn't pan out that way. My label actually went bankrupt, and I was left without a home.

I'm scared. I'm excited. I'm ready for whatever happens but I think that fame is what comes along with the territory when you open yourself up and become this story, this book for anyone to read.