I signed a contract a year ago January.  Was promised an edited edition in May. Promised twenty finished copies to take to my high-school reunion the weekend of July the fourth.  And publication in September.  

None of that happened.  Here I am on December eleventh still editing the mess the publishing editor made of it all.  And this is the third go around.

They assured me yesterday that we would finish it today.  The most we have ever been able to do is twenty pages a day--and there are one hundred and eighty four pages to go--second time around.  The entire process is insane.  Nobody has done anything they said they would do since last January.

The problem isn't me.  I'm available twenty-four seven days a week except for Sunday morning.  The meeting cancellations have been four out of five on their part.  

Okay--that's all I'm going to say.  I have a headache from the stress of people who tell you what they are going to do and then don't do it.  I've never in my life been in a situation like this.

Give me people who are on time and do what they tell you they are going to do.  All my friends are coming up with the next excuse I am going to get from the publisher.  Carolyn says it will be because someone's "eyelash fell out."  Then Carolyn said--after weeks of them giving me excuses: "How many eyelashes does the publisher have left?"

Jeanette--on the other hand--keeps trying to calm me down.

It's a good thing I have friends.