I’m working two anthology projects, three covers, two edits, a branding contract, a web client -PLUS- New Bedlam and that big project I keep mumbling about. Oh, and next month I’m doing NaNoWriMo.

I have two kids, a gaggle of animals and a home to uh…well, housework to ignore.

I’m terribly, horribly, terrifically bored. Things are so very slow that I find too much time to think.

You can’t see it, but my left eyebrow has pretty much hit my hairline, and yes… I am smirking. They say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but sometimes it’s just so cathartic, not to mention I’m just so damn good at it.

I’ve been told that someone thinks I’ve had too much time on my hands, and have chosen to use that time to get pissed off that certain project leaders could get information to people promoting them, but not to me to finish what I was hired to do. Twice, by two different clients. One now refuses to pay for work completed (pay for what I’ve done, and I will remove the watermark; if not, live with it or don’t use it at all).

The other… well, I won’t name names.

Actually, the fact that ‘they’ think my demanding accountability from the company is going to ruin my career if ‘they’ were to let it be known… Overblown self-importance doesn’t become anyone.

For pity’s sake, what bloody career do I have? I have a handful of (non-self) publishing credits, I’m a freakin’ freelancer with a handful of steady – PAYING – clients. When I say handful, I mean it. I’d like to think the people that I have worked with, in writing, editing and design, know enough about my work and myself to let this person’s displeasure at being caught out slide.

I have each and every email, back and forth, with headers. So do a handful of other people who were either directly involved or to whom I turned for advice.

I asked for the information to complete the project (granted I was probably less than completely cordial, but I’d been dangling this one for three months already) and was shunted back and forth. A close friend was blamed for the delay, and I knew better. Right then and there, my bullshit meter went off like First of July, Fourth of July and Guy Fawkes Night all rolled into one. I’ve rarely been so disgusted-bordering-angry-bordering-murderous.

Pass the buck, get in a circle and dance a jig, but don’t try to pull that on me. Particularly when it comes to that friend, because she’s like my fucking sister for gods’ sake.

So, I’d asked for:

dimensions, paper type
final page count
printer info (so I can work to their specs precisely, less room for error)
back cover text
blurbs
ISBN (and offered to do the conversion and UPC myself)
telephone number & address (for the program I’m in & tax purposes)

I ask these of pretty much all of my clients, private authors and publishers alike. I no longer have to provide copies of the work, but I do need to have the info available at least.

One passed me to the other who passed me back who passed me on, who…. See how it’s going?

All the hand wringing and arm flapping over simple information.

Finally, a friend of a friend with connections did some digging and found out that the company is not a legal entity (doesn’t have a tax number, etc.) and the person in charge doesn’t seem to exist. Now, in micro-micro-press, I’ve come across it before, even worked with it before – but in the open. It could be a working pseudonym. Hell – *I* have one of those, but I sign all my contracts with my FULL name, not just my first and second.

As of this evening, some snark has been directed my way (of course, no names, but potshots none the less) and I’ve still not had any proof of entity from the company, and now it seems their website is… down for maintenance.

Passive-aggressive doesn’t work with me. It makes ME p-a, and I was raised by the queen of all p-a. I’ve learned a trick or two.

But then, I guess I just fell off that turnip truck yesterday, since I was so damned bored.