Recent Posts

THE QUICK SUMMARY

(This is a pinned post summarizing the SneezingCow basics…scroll down for newer posts.)

Mike’s latest book (Forty Acres Deep) (indie booksellers scroll down to lower left for wholesale info). All the other books (including Population 485) and CDs and DVDs and whatnots.

The Voice Mail page. (This is the weekly podcast — for free samples, click on the episodes without the miniature padlocks.)

Mike’s ability to spin his 20+ books and wide range of life experiences into humorous and heartfelt live presentations have put him in great demand as a public speaker. In addition to his one-man theater shows, Mike has delivered entertaining keynote addresses at conferences for software companies, hospitals and health care organizations, fire and EMS providers, farming and agricultural groups, national and regional utility cooperatives, business and economic development entities, governmental agencies, mental health organizations, dental hygienists, faith-based organizations, logging conventions, book festivals, MFA programs, libraries, and countless others. If you’re interested in retaining Mike for your event, please contact his booking agent here.

The mailing list signup (explained very specifically). We hope you’ll consider joining; it’s old-fashioned but way more loyal than social media. It’s also the best and most direct way to know when Mike’s got something new or is performing near you.

Upcoming live events.

Population: 485 “Summer Here” Poster Donations to the Feed My People Food Bank

If you’ve seen the June 12, 2025 issue of Volume One, that beautiful cover is the work of Mike’s longtime family friend and Chippewa Valley artist Lori Chilefone. You also may recognize the artwork from the Population 485-based “Summer Here” poster. In honor of Lori and her work, from June 12th through July 31st, 2025, for any orders of or including the “Population: 485 “Summer Here” poster, we will make a donation to the Feed My People Food Bank in Eau Claire, WI.

You can find the link to the article here.

You can purchase the poster here.

From Lori:

“The opening paragraph of Population: 485 inspired me in creating this collage. The figure in the collage is from a circa 1880’s gravure rendering by Smeeton & Tilly of a statue of Phoebe. A Titan goddess of the moon, worshipped by ancient Greeks, her name derives from the Greek for shining, bright, and radiant.”

It showcases butterflies that are native to the region of Wisconsin where the book Population: 485 is set.

Michael Perry’s Population 485 poster specifications:

  • Size: 11×17
  • Medium: Print
  • Finish: Matte
  • Paper: 100lb Environmental Smooth Cover

 

Gratitude and Latitude

I’m profoundly fortunate to do the work I do, and I never, ever forget: it’s only possible because people generously give of their time and attention to read and listen, to show up at live events, and to stay with me across books, podcasts, performances, and whatever else I manage to conjure and deliver.

The overriding message: I’m deeply grateful and real lucky. Thus, what follows is neither a complaint nor a solicitation of sympathy, it’s simply a message regarding the state of the situation.

My day-to-day life is real regular. Just another self-employed dude. But like a lot of self-employed folks, we get spread a tad thin now and again. Between the weekly podcast deadlines, the travel for speaking gigs, one-man shows, and band concerts, the ongoing book and script projects (plural, always), the recording and voiceover sessions, the speculative stuff that consumes big swathes of time but may or may not ever see the light of day, and the very real joys and responsibilities of being a father and husband, and—over the course of the past two years and right through the present—helping my family support other beloved family members through serious health challenges, I’ve simply hit a wall when it comes to reading manuscripts or offering blurbs, feedback, or commentary on new creative work, or even responding to emails. I’d love to say yes to more and keep things one-to-one, but in order to keep putting out the work that I hope speaks for itself, and in order to give my best when I am “public-facing,” I have to guard my offline time more fiercely than ever. It’s not about being aloof—it’s about staying afloat. In order to meet the expectations I’ve set for myself and the promises I’ve made to others, now more than ever I must narrow my focus to work, performance, and family.

I am fortunate in that I have a terrific manager named Ben, and this is my chance to thank him publicly for all he does for me and our family behind the scenes.

Ben also handles my speaking and musical bookings. More information here.

The Real Amy

Main fundraiser photoWhen I was but a teenager, I became godfather to a little baby named Amy. When I started writing books about my own daughters, I changed their names for privacy reasons, but chose “Amy” as my elder daughter’s pen name in honor of my goddaughter.

Now the original Amy needs help. I am often asked to share requests for donations and support of all sorts, and simply can’t honor each one while remaining evenhanded and fair to all. But in this case it is my honored duty as godfather to help spread the word. Amy has faced lifelong difficulties with grace and good humor I could only hope to emulate should I be faced with even a fraction of what she has–and is–facing. If you are able, here is the information.

Some of you may recall a brief piece I wrote about falling short as a godparent, in which I shared my all-time favorite Amy story:

When she was a toddler, Amy Lynn gave me a crayon drawing of an apple tree, executed in the standard style: brown trunk, green leaves, red apples, spiky yellow sun in a blue sky. It contained one visual anomaly: a tiny, very carefully inscribed square, done in pencil. I was in nursing school and had just completed a 300-level child psychology course, so I immediately homed in on the anomalous square as a subliminal message of perhaps dire import. At the first opportunity I sat down with Amy Lynn and asked her to tell me about the drawing, and she did—in the sunniest of terms. Then, when the time was right, I pointed to the square, and as gently as I could, asked, “And what is this?”

She looked at me quizzically for a moment, and then, as if addressing the dimmest of all godfathers, said, “It’s a square.”

Again, here is the link to Amy’s current story.