My husband says that if I ever write an autobiography, it should be called Always Selling. As a young girl, I remember going door to door in our small New England town, selling packets of seeds, greeting cards, and potholders I had made. Was I scared? Sure I was. But once the neighbor opened her door, somehow I knew it would be worth it.

I always walked away with something—not a sale every time, but with a heightened sense of self-worth. Everybody took me seriously when I was selling!