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I often baffle people when they compliment me. "You sing beautifully," they'll say, and I'll reply, "Thank you. I enjoy it."

"Oh, I'm not that good."

"Nonsense, you're wonderful."

"I sing through my nose too much."

"You sing like an angel."

It's the American way, especially among women. Put yourself down so others over-exaggerate until your ego feels sufficiently inflated. When I refuse to dance, they usually walk away with a blank smile on their face.

On the other hand, I usually try to be honest and people misinterpret it as my willingness to participate in self-deprecation. People look at my drawings and say, "Wow, these are really good. You're a good artist."

They say this to a person who writes all the time yet refuses to call herself a writer or an author. I must draw a lot because I'm good at it, right? No, I draw all the time because I'm trying to become better.

"Thanks," I'll say. "I enjoy drawing but I'm not that good."

"Oh, I think you are."

(Okay, maybe I can draw pictures that are pretty recognizable, but put me next to an artist or even a first-year art school student and I'm not "a good artist.") "Well, thanks," I say, trying to let the topic die down.

"No, you're honestly a great artist."

Every mistake I can improve upon is its own compliment. I don't need people telling me I've achieved greatness when I know I'm only at the tip of the iceberg.