I've got clean blood, I swear...

...but I pierced my ears for the first time last October, so the blood donor people rejected me.  I used to be scared of needles--then I donated blood because a clever and compassionate friend convinced me it would save lives.  "Kid's lives," she said.  "Just think of the children!"  So I shut my eyes when the phlebotomist stuck the needle in my arm, and found it really wasn't so bad.

Lots of stuff is like that, I've found: if I'm brave and face my fears, good things happen.  That's why I write, and send my writing out into a scary world.  I'm grateful for other authors who wrote books I love and risked rejection and insults to get those books published. 

The connection I'm making is tenuous at best, but...hey.  Blood donation can involve rejections.  Writing can involve rejections, too.  Both blood donors and writers are awesome.  So...um...I'll keep writing, and I'll donate blood again whenever I'm not pregnant and haven't pierced my ears within a year and don't have any scary diseases or strange medicines, I promise.

Blood bags...

...and books.  Hooray for blood donors and authors (and agents and editors and readers and nurses and doctors and lab workers and phlebotomists...)!