I almost died when I was born. The doctors told my mother it was certain. "She's not going to live," they said, "but if she does, by some strange miracle, make it through, her brain will be severely damaged."

At least, this is what the experienced doctors said. It was a young physician who told my mother, "Your daughter is not going to die. Her brain will not be damaged. She's a fighter. She wants to live. In fact, you'd better watch out because that little girl is determined."

I suppose my entrance into this world was good preparation for my chosen career path. In order to make a living as a writer, you have to be a fighter. Mostly editors reject your stories. Mostly publishers snub their noses at your ideas. Mostly agents don't have time to talk. Mostly readers pass by your book as it sits sandwiched between the millions of other titles on the shelves. Occasionally somebody finds your work, likes it, and understands what you are trying to do. It is those people who keep me going.

I have authored a handful of books that have been translated into eight languages: Chinese, Dutch, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Portuguese, Russian, and Thai. My work has been featured in Real Simple, Good Housekeeping, The Chicago Tribune, The Seattle Times and The Oregonian and on BBC and NPR. I am a paid advice columnist at eHow.com where I also write weekly articles on relationships and self-discovery.

My writing style combines memoir, self-help and philosophical pondering. I enjoy examining human relationships, dissecting emotion, questioning status quo and embracing existential dread. A friend once described my work by saying, "It's like a slice of fine dark chocolate: slightly sweet, slightly bitter. It's satisfying, but ultimately leaves you craving more." I love chocolate and was endlessly delighted by this comparison. More than anything, I hope my work inspires and affirms life without being cheesy.

Speaking of chocolate and cheese, occasionally I write about food. My favorite cheese is Beecher's Flagship from Seattle.

When not writing, I throw dance parties for myself in my bedroom. I also dance at clubs. And ballrooms. And anywhere else music is playing. Or not playing. In my next life I will be a musician. I adore everything about bicycles and teach indoor cycling classes at gym in the city. I dream of Copenhagen where the bike lanes are wide and the riders are chic. I wear cigarette pants, gigantic necklaces and even bigger sunglasses. I am not a hipster, an academic or a socialite. I prefer quiet contemplation to mindless chitchat. I am a negative-scanning optimist, which I realize is a contradiction in terms, but in the end I seem to reconcile it all just fine. If you meet me in person, you will see that I am endlessly enthusiastic.