Eating words

I was on tenterhooks. Would the book arrive? Or not? There is the unsolicited flood – of books, not water – and then there are the asked for books. I always feel bad about asking why a free item hasn’t been delivered. If you’ve paid for it, it’s fine to ask, and even complain.

That’s why I don’t feel authors should be the ones to post their wares to me. It’s bad enough they have to pay the postage, but you can’t very well moan about the non-arrival of the book. Bad if they did pay the postage, because it’s a financial loss. Bad if they didn’t, as it would seem they forgot.

Publicists are different. I can ask a second time. Usually it’s because the one I asked has in turn asked someone else to put the book in the post. And they forgot.

Whereas I am all for delegating (because there is nothing so annoying as one person who does everything, while not letting others learn to do it too), I have to say that the publicist who works best (as seen from my end) is the one who stuffs what they want to send me into a jiffybag herself.

Recently I have been pacing up and down, waiting for a book of the delegated kind. I know, because I saw the email. It was from someone who until now has never actually delivered on their promise, so my hopes weren’t high.

But, dear reader, the book did arrive. So those words – ‘do not delegate!’ – are quietly being eaten as I write this.

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