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I know I'm special, because my mummy tells me so. However, it was odd to have an author (I'm an editor) think I was so special that I had magical Christmas powers.
This author is a p in the a. The manuscript was late, the pictures were late, the caption list was late, his proof corrections were late. We knew this would happen because we have done books with him before, and only bother with him because his books have an money-making appeal to old men with body odour and a Napoleon fixation. Therefore we carefully set the deadline for his manuscript a month before we would actually need it, and the publication date 2 months later than we would normally. We like to think ahead.
Anyway, a week ago I got his index in through the post. 3 weeks late, but yeah, we knew that would happen. The same day he rang up to confirm we had received it.
A: Batshit crazy author
BB: Yours truly
A: Did you get my index blah blah blah
BB: Yes thank you, we'll put it in and will send you updated proofs in the new year (my last day of work is the 18th, hell yeah. It pays to save up your holiday).
A: Whaaaaaaaa? The new year?????
BB: Yes. We scheduled the book for a March publication.
A: But, I was going to give it to my family and friends for Christmas!!!!!
Ok, take five. He handed in an index on 10th December. He thought we would have added it, done final readthroughs, sent the book to press (in India) got it back, and that it would be on bookshelves by the 25th. Whaaa?
BB: I'm sorry A, but that is impossible.
A: But my contract says the manuscript was due in April! It can't have taken you 8 months!
BB: You gave us the ms in June. You were late at every stage of production, I'm sorry but it's in the schedule for a March publication.
Cue many many minutes of rambling indignation. I believe he suggested I should drop everything to rush his book. The point is, I could have spent every hour until Christmas working on it, and still couldn't have got it printed. What am I going to do, fly the pages to India and force the printing press fairies to perform a Christmas miracle?
Doofus.
This author is a p in the a. The manuscript was late, the pictures were late, the caption list was late, his proof corrections were late. We knew this would happen because we have done books with him before, and only bother with him because his books have an money-making appeal to old men with body odour and a Napoleon fixation. Therefore we carefully set the deadline for his manuscript a month before we would actually need it, and the publication date 2 months later than we would normally. We like to think ahead.
Anyway, a week ago I got his index in through the post. 3 weeks late, but yeah, we knew that would happen. The same day he rang up to confirm we had received it.
A: Batshit crazy author
BB: Yours truly
A: Did you get my index blah blah blah
BB: Yes thank you, we'll put it in and will send you updated proofs in the new year (my last day of work is the 18th, hell yeah. It pays to save up your holiday).
A: Whaaaaaaaa? The new year?????
BB: Yes. We scheduled the book for a March publication.
A: But, I was going to give it to my family and friends for Christmas!!!!!
Ok, take five. He handed in an index on 10th December. He thought we would have added it, done final readthroughs, sent the book to press (in India) got it back, and that it would be on bookshelves by the 25th. Whaaa?
BB: I'm sorry A, but that is impossible.
A: But my contract says the manuscript was due in April! It can't have taken you 8 months!
BB: You gave us the ms in June. You were late at every stage of production, I'm sorry but it's in the schedule for a March publication.
Cue many many minutes of rambling indignation. I believe he suggested I should drop everything to rush his book. The point is, I could have spent every hour until Christmas working on it, and still couldn't have got it printed. What am I going to do, fly the pages to India and force the printing press fairies to perform a Christmas miracle?
Doofus.
for everything and yet YOU are supposed to put everything together with magical fairy dust within two seconds of receiving it from him.
Seasoned authors are generous. They'll give you seven. No matter how many delays they introduce themselves. 
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