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Jan 18 / Michael

Nor did I escape the flu

health-alert

Hey, y’all. What’s up? What the hap? How have you been in the last, um, month? OK, OK, that’s longer than I planned, but here I am, back on the blog horse. Let’s hit the trail.

1. How’d I do?
When last we spoke, I’d set up a nifty 18 Days to Write and Spin challenge for myself. Well, the verdict is in, and it’s a split decision (and a mixed metaphor). I wrote 1,000+ words on 14 of the 18 days—not too shabby! That included finishing a short story for an anthology and logging close to 16,000 words in my new Work in Progress. (It’s a middle grade novel featuring a plethora of apex predators, but more on that soon.)

Less impressive: I made it to spin class 9 of the 18 days. It was 9 of 13 at one point, and then The Flu Happened. I don’t want to get too gory here, but suffice it to say There Was Mucus Everywhere. (OK, so maybe that was too gory.) Also, how is it even possible to have a fever and the chills at the same time? It’s like, too hot or too cold: Pick one, body! Anyway, I was able to write on most of those days: the first one before it got too bad, and the last few, once I’d stopped hallucinating quite so much. But there was just no way I was going to be pushing any pedals.

2. Countdown to Rotten!
big-rotten
On a happier note, with far less mucus and much more drool, my third young adult novel will be out in just a few months. The official pub date is April 1, but there’s a good chance it will slip out the door a little before that. I’ve already created a shiny new page for it, and advance reader copies are on the way. After that, there will be a month-long blog tour(!), interviews here and there, an appearance or eight, a contest or two. It’s a ruff schedule, but I’m looking forward to it!

3. Odd audibles
And finally . . . I thought long and hard about what ridiculous video or piece of viral flotsam I should post here. The competition was stiff and incredibly stupid, but ultimately, the choice was clear. It’s the playoffs, people! Please enjoy some bad NFL lip reading. (Go, Pats! Let’s find Fido!)

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