To be or not to be....Meredith, the author?

So secretly...since 2004 and facing the reality that I might just die (which I did not...lol), and taking a journey in life I could have never predicted, I wished for the opportunity to write a book. I guess I felt like I had to be "formally" asked to write a book....but after discovering websites that offer anyone, from the most wealthy of writers, to a first grader learning to write a sentence...the chance to publish their own book, I decided to get started. I am writing a book that will hopefully help someone who has had marital problems, infertility problems, or anyone who has hit rock bottom and thinks there is no way out. As a middle school teacher, I "edutain" my students to love the world of reading for at least 180 days a year...and thus the inspiration for my second endeavor: a series of books for adolescents. So, just to get a little feedback, I've posted some snippets from both books...so let me know what you think. To be or not to be...an author?

"The Power of No"
Book dedication:
I have been blessed in so many ways, but more than any other are these: my first husband mentally and emotionally abused me for years, he cheated on me and threw our marriage away, he took from me the ability to have a child that is biologically mine, he left me completely broke and alone and for that, I am the wealthiest woman in the world. For it is because of those blessings, I am now the happiest I could ever imagine, I am loved by my new husband more than I could ever deserve, and I am the stepmother of a beautiful daughter, who shares my curls, my creativity and love for an amazing man that makes us smile every day. I will forever be grateful to God for the amazing, painful and broken journey that lead to an incredible, unbelievable destination. It is to my new husband, my soul mate and best friend for life, that I dedicate this book. You are more to me than you can ever know. God gave me you and you are the greatest gift I could ever receive.

Excerpt from chapter 1:
I can recall the moment it all became clear to me. I’m sitting in one of those tacky pink vinyl chairs in the Woman’s Center of Forsyth Hospital. In fact, I still can’t sit or even stand the sight of those “wanna be” leather chairs. But back to my “clear” moment…it’s July 21st of 2004, I’ve been married a little over 4 years, I’ve purchased my first home, and I’ve spent the last year of my life on fertility treatments and yet it’s just now that I’ve come to realize that my husband doesn’t love me. Yes, maybe he cares a little, but when it all comes down to it, he really doesn’t nor has he ever loved me.
Looking back now, that “clear” moment is actually quite humorous. I had just come out of a laparoscopy and exploratory surgery, I’d spent maybe thirty minutes in recovery, and I was in horrible pain and extremely nauseous. However, the surgery was outpatient, and apparently it was time for me to get out! I just don’t think my body was ready for that decision. I was extremely lightheaded, pale and in quite a deal of pain, but I was expected to get dressed and out the door on my own. My body apparently started speaking on its own when I dropped to the bottom of the dressing room and began to cry for my mother.
Isn’t funny…no matter how old you are, you never get too old to want your mommy, and my mother is of the best. She was right there in a second; she helped me back into my clothes but she a had a word or two for those nurses: I wasn’t leaving. I needed to sit down and get some “color” back in me. That’s where the chair comes into play; I sit back, it throws me into full position, and I’m sure I looked like I was ready to meet the queen! It’s at that moment my husband decides to enter the scene. He’s all polished in his chino shorts, Hawaiian shirt and slicked back hair. He takes his normal “cool” stance: arms crossed, and leaning back on the wall like it should be honored to hold up such a man as he. But then, quicker than a bolt of lightning, he takes one look at my pale, post surgery expression and BAM! He passes out right there in the recovery room of Forsyth Hospital! All the nurses, along with my mom, turn from helping me and rush to the only man within a one mile radius. They’re hollering things like “we got a man down” and “quick get me some smelling salts!” I immediately think “what about me? Isn’t this the women’s center? He doesn’t have a uterus, I DO!!” However, the only thing I can physically do is LAUGH OUTLOUD, which automatically brings my mom’s attention back to me. I can tell by the expression on her face that she thinks my laughing is inappropriate, but laughing is contagious, and within seconds…she’s laughing too. Only what she can’t see is the pictures and emotions running through my brain that have brought me to this moment.

Middle School (otherwise known as "The Worst Three Years of My Simple Life)
Excerpt from Chapter 1:
It was the summer before my sixth grade year. I clearly remember because that was the summer all the girls started wearing cute polka dotted or striped bikinis, and I was still stuck in the ugly Wal-mart one piece my mom bought me back in the “after summer” sale. It was this ugly shade of orange that was just bright enough to make me and my big fat self stand out from everyone at the Farm Hill Golf Club swimming pool. My mom got us a membership every summer, but this summer was the first year I didn’t want to go at all! But, you guessed it…my mom made me go, and not only that, but she but she had bought this purple roll on sunscreen that only made me stand out even more. Anyways, I had just gotten out of school 3 weeks earlier and I really wanted to see my friends from school, but not in the orange suit, and not with the purple sunscreen. Had I known what was going to happen later, I’d trade it for living my whole sixth grade year in that suit and sunscreen. That’s definitely better than being nicknamed “floater”, and no, it’s not what you think!

I can't believe I'm about to "publish" this post...it might be deleted by tomorrow :P