I begin this week with anticipation, for A Guru in the Guest Room will be in my hot little hands by midweek. I stand at the crossroads of possibility. All I have to do is let go. Put one foot in front of the other.
Many of you have known me for years. You have stood with me as I buried Bob and began my new life, ready or not. You were patient while I grieved, turning sorrow into essays and hitting the Send button. You rejoiced with me as I stood firm in the act of being true to myself.
Just as Life With A Hole In It was written then, so was A Guru in the Guest Room. These are companion books, whether they seem like it or not. They were both gifts at a time when I had nothing to give but what God gave me—my love of writing. It has served me well even though I have certainly not sold many books.
Swami Z arose from deep within the subconscious. He is, of course, a fictional character, but one I know how to write very well. He is the embodiment of a love that never dares to make sense. He never adds up; neither does he bear up under scrutiny. I adore that about him. His cuteness factor is off the charts.
Not only that, but his character will lead some of you into a surprising direction. Let me know if that happens. He just walked into the room and is standing right behind me. “Swami,” I say, “would you be so kind as to share a pearl of wisdom about your book?”
“Vicki,” he said, “I am about to launch you in a different direction and knowing you, it will be another kicking, screaming journey. Personally, I hope you fall on your butt for as many times as it takes. Think of it as Senior Night at the Roller Derby. Just get up and skate on.”
I am sorry I ever gave him voice.
Swami’s Faithful Scribe