I don't make a lot of excuses when it comes to work. Generally I agree to do something or I don't and that's that. I'm often early with my deadlines, which I highly recommend to all writers who want happy editors, and I often pick up the slack when something needs to be covered last minute.
Anyhow, I'm finishing up my book. It's due in less than a week and I assure you I won't be writing any turn on a dime stories and I also won't be delivering this sucker to my publisher early. While many Americans enjoy a long holiday weekend in a couple days I'll be halfway insane finishing up my book. In other words on Labor Day I'll be laboring like never before get Food Lover's Guide to Portland to the point where I can send its snaggletoothed self up to my fine publisher in Seattle on September 8th.
Please forgive me for a brief hiatus this week (overworked) and next (over work). I'll be back in full force as soon as I do things like shower and return phone calls. You wouldn't want to see me now anyway. I've been doing things like spending all day in my boyfriend's over sized sweatshirts, eating nothing but instant ramen and condiments on bread around the clock, talking to myself, stretching my neck compulsively. Its unsightly. I assure you that I'm looking after your best interests.