I hit early March on a roll. My latest novel, The Speaker, was in final edits. I’d gotten a good jump on the start of the fourth  book in the series with ten-thousand words already written. My publishing house, Hydra Publications, had two books hitting the formatting stage of the process and would soon see publication. Then it happened.

Monday, March 13th, I got a barking cough from deep in my chest. Normally, I get a cough on the tail end of a sinus infection, which I’ve dealt with since I was a child. But this time I felt great otherwise. I texted my wife, who was out of town on business, I must be getting a cold. When she got home the following day, she found me in bed, buried under three blankets, freezing. I’d come down with a fever.

I gave it a couple of days, hoping it would pass, but by late Wednesday, I felt even worse. I made a doctors appointment the next day and got the diagnosis: pneumonia. I started on antibiotics that day, but it would be another week before I felt anything close to normal. It’s easy to see how this illness would kill people in the days before antibiotics. I felt like a giant had picked me up and slammed me down, several times over.

Needless to say, nothing in the world of books got done over the last few weeks. I believe tomorrow I will be able to crank up the word processor and begin to once again jump into the world of Victor McCain and the rest of the Scooby Gang. And I should be able to finally get the two latest Hydra Publication titles ready for Prime Time.

Thanks to everyone who helped cover over the last few weeks. Now my wife is dealing with the same illness. Say a few prayers, if you will, that the Twins don’t catch it.

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