The extremely prolific Danielle Steele was interviewed by a Chicago Tribune writer - and I found it very enlightening.
Of course, if I had ever read one of Ms. Steele's novels, I'm sure I could have gotten a lot more out of the quotes. Apparently, she has been writing since she was nineteen, cranking out pulp and cranking out babies at a rate that makes my head spin. Largely due to the massive centrifugal force, she spun off five husbands in the process.
According to the article, Danielle Steele claims that she writes for up to twenty hours per day when she's on a roll, which must be just about daily. Sweet Jesus, this woman never sleeps and she's not dead yet. What I wouldn't do for twenty minutes without interruption to write, and she's putting in hours that would kill a college student. I'm presuming that the local Starbuck's franchise is located in her kitchen, and she is the leading client.
Her books follow some sort of formula, with happy endings for all and to all a good night. It is certainly a winning formula she has concocted because people (women) buy up her tomes by the truckload. Now, I have no intention of writing like Danielle Steele, nor would I want to. Anyone who has studied literature, American or English, has heard tales of authors who were wildly successful in their day, household names that sold well. Those same authors are unknown today, unread, out of print and unmourned. What's it to be? Immortality and poverty, or wealth followed by obscurity? Are you mad? Of course I'd take the money. You want immortality, have children.
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