Apologies for my silence these last six weeks or so. I was tinkering in my top secret duck-lair and am almost ready to announce some BIG. EXCITING. NEWS!
But in the meantime, I can share a bit about life since we last spoke.
Hot Ticket made it all the way up to 36 or so on the Amazon free best-seller list during the January tour! If you didn’t get a chance to grab it then, you can still read this middle grade mystery through Kindle Unlimited.
I’m accepting limited editorial work at the moment, though I have to be careful with my scheduling. I specialize in children’s literature (board book through young adult), but if you have any questions – please feel free to get in touch!
On a more personal note, I am one of a bazillion people that decided they were going to get in shape for 2016. Mostly this means that I now wear a Fitbit and know exactly how much sitting I’m doing on a given day. That said, yesterday I went for a run and did not pass out or vomit. Progress!
(Some of you are saying, “But wait! Didn’t you once tell me two stories that were meant to impress with your athletic ability?” And I will say, “Yes, but that was like six years ago when I still had energy and was not getting a monthly lesson in the weird and random things the human body can do when it’s had a gut infection.” That said, if you have the overwhelming urge to see me wrapped in a metallic blanket, you can do so here.)
Finally, I am currently reading Mary Roach’s Packing for Mars, and she’s describing her experience on NASA’s “Vomit Comet” (a.k.a the plane that flies extreme parabolas so that occupants can experience brief moments wiithout gravity.) See below.
And I had a brief moment where I thought, “Yes! How can I get myself on that plane? That would be amazing!”
And then I remembered that I’m not a great airplane traveler in general** and still need to psyche myself up a bit for roller coasters. Also, I’m still not completely over that time I went on Mission: Space after leaving the hospital and it was a mother freaking centrifuge.
So all that is to say, I think I will leave the vomit comet to astronauts, journalists and rock musicians.
(**A person that loves ducks but can’t handle flying. Oh, the irony!)