QUESTION ONE: “Who were your mentors?”

Mentor is a word I never use. It smells of apprenticeship, that wafting, submissive aroma that arises from a servant who adores his master. By this definition, I have never had a mentor, but I do have many heroes I study from a distance, and I have a lot of friends who have spoken valuable things into my life.

QUESTION TWO: “What is your writing method?”

1. I descend into the depths of the client/character in whose voice I will be writing. This takes awhile.

2. When I have lost contact with my surroundings and found that character and become that character, I write what that character would say. I do this in the middle of the night because there are fewer interruptions.

3. When the character is finished talking, I ascend from the deep waters into the air and sunlight of my surroundings, walk into the kitchen, make a cup of hot tea, and add the juice of a Key Lime. This little ritual helps me find myself. Then I look at the digital clock on the microwave to find out how long I have been away, because time does not exist in that alternate realm.

Sometimes, when Pennie is visiting her sisters, I will awaken in the wintertime post-midnight darkness, work for awhile, rise to make tea, and notice that it is not yet light. But when I finally realize it is the darkness of evening, not morning, and that an entire day has disappeared while I was underwater, I have to reorient my mind.

QUESTION THREE: “Is your health okay?”

“Are you pulling back? Are you stepping away from Wizard Academy and the Wizard of Ads partners? Your recent Monday Morning Memos make me feel like you are preparing to say goodbye.”

I fear you have me confused with Mentor R. Williams.

Mentor Ralph Williams (yes, Mentor was his first name) wrote “Drift Away,” one of the gold record hits of the 70’s. Dobie Gray sang it to #5 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart in 1973.

“Day after day I’m more confused, yet I look for the light through the pouring rain. You know that’s a game that I hate to lose. And I’m feeling the strain. Ain’t it a shame.”

“Beginning to think that I’m wasting time. I don’t understand the things I do. The world outside looks so unkind. And I’m counting on you to carry me through.”

When you read these next words, you will likely hear Dobie Gray’s voice in your mind:

“Oh, give me the beat, boys, and free my soul, I want to get lost in your rock and roll and drift away.”

This is not my day to be Dobie Gray. I am not feeling blue and I am not preparing to die. But I do appreciate your concern. Thank you for caring.

A few weeks ago I wrote, “The important is rarely urgent, and the urgent is rarely important. Do not become a slave to the merely urgent.”

I’m sure I will shift gears at some point and shoot off in a new direction, but right now I am writing about things that are important, rather than merely urgent. I hope to speak valuable things into your life, just as other people have spoken into mine.

But first we need to make a deal, okay?

The agreement I need from you is this: If you promise not to think I am feeling blue, stepping back, or preparing to die, I will share some of the valuable things that people have spoken into my life. I will tell you what they said, when they said it, and how I found value in their words.

Does that sound okay to you? If so, raise your hand.

I saw that hand, even though you raised it only in your mind.

Indy says Aroo, and I do,...