I’m just going to come out and say it. I wrote a book that cannot be categorized as humor. And I still want you to read it.
After years of watching so many silently experience a level of heartache that few understand, I decided it was time to start a discussion. As a culture, we find certain subjects so painful that they are avoided completely. The story of SUKI comes from emotions previously left dormant, anxiously waiting to hug the soul of anyone brave enough to peek at them.
In SUKI, I write from the point of view that everything happens as it is supposed to by design.
Set in New York, the novella tells the story of Savannah, an independent go getter, who allows fear to keep her from being completely happy, and Dwayne, a softhearted ex-Marine with a talent for creativity. The couple is destined to find each other and carry out a preordained agreement made long before their human feet enter this Earthly plane. Their connection is tangible and their lives easy – until they are presented with one challenge that shakes them to their cores.
The couple’s subsequent struggle to make sense of their imploding world comes to a head in the epilogue, where a shocking secret is revealed in an overdue letter.
Throughout SUKI, the reader is a silent spectator, experiencing the unfolding of each event along with the characters. The novella delves so deeply into a world rarely talked about, that after the cover is closed, the reader is left with a permanent imprint.
SUKI is not a book. It is an experience filled with twists that I cannot reveal to you in a synopsis. Think about it. If I told you about the first time you had sex before you did it, I would’ve robbed you of three minutes of bliss with Bobby WhatsHisName and the scars you still have from the rug in his basement. Or your twenty-first birthday. You’d never know that mixing all the hard liquor behind the bar into one drink is just like Ipecac except that you can projectile vomit way farther. You may now pass those pearls of wisdom down to your kids.
In the meantime, I offer you a taste of my more serious work, in the hopes that you may take a chance on looking at life and love from a slightly different perspective:
Dr T. jumps in quickly. As he enlightens Dr. Ryan, Savannah leans hard on the wall in the hallway, trying to blend in with the painted lilies. Her legs feel too heavy to move. For no particular reason, she sniffs the wallpaper and realizes that she can’t smell anything. She wonders if she’s numb with shock, or if she’s slowly dying.
His partner looks at her with such pity that she almost loses control. Her eyes dart around, trying to find a neutral object to focus on as she fights back the tears. She’s so certain that the entire staff and all of the patients waiting nearby have heard the conversation, and her embarrassment dissolves her pain. She walks away from both of them and out of the building.
Savannah doesn’t know what to do. She sits limply in the Bronco and stares out the window looking everywhere for an idea, but seeing nothing. For the first time since she found out there could be a problem, there are no thoughts crowding her head. She feels completely lost and suspended in time…because she can’t control or fix this. It will be whatever it will be, and she has no say in it.
Eventually Savannah calls Dwayne. She doesn’t ask him to meet her so that they can talk in person. Instead, she tells him the news over the phone as if they’re having a normal conversation about the shopping list. And all the while she rhythmically bangs her head against the window without even realizing what she’s doing.
When Dwayne speaks, he sounds flat. Everything within reach of her seems one dimensional and without color, smell, or comprehensible sound.