My life as a world famous author!

(I ran a version of this story in January 2016. It’s been updated and revised with current publishing data.)

Patricia Cornwell’s books take-up two rows in my local library. Danielle Steele, now 76, has slowed in recent years, but she’s holding strong with two shelves of her own. James Patterson — the master — leads with five.

They churn out books faster than you can finish your coffee, browsing online to see what e-book you’re going to buy next.

For example, Patterson has written more than 200 novels since 1976 (selling more than 425 million copies worldwide, more than Dan Brown, John Grisham, Stephen King combined.) He has had more than 114 New York Times bestselling novels, and holds The New York Times record for most #1 New York Times bestsellers by a single author.

And he’s not done. Patterson’s  website states that he’s got nine books with cowriters coming out in hardcover this year, including a thriller with Mike Lupica and a nonfiction collaboration with golf reporter Peter de Jonge on the the life of Tiger Woods.

And I can’t even finish one book. (I’m working on it. I’m focusing more in 2024 on my own novel, but I still don’t have a book to my name.)

But, it doesn’t stop me from thinking about how I would spend my time if I were in Patterson’s shoes and a famous author. I know exactly how I’d spend my time:

–I’d go to the library. Everyone would see me in the library and assume that I was performing research for my next book. They wouldn’t dare interrupt me. Oh they would want to get my autograph, but they wouldn’t want to bother me as I work on the next Great American Novel. No one would be wiser to me playing Wordle, Angry Birds, Clash Royale, or Candy Crush on my cell phone.

–Run. A writer has to keep up good impressions. However, I would probably run indoors. I wouldn’t want to risk running outside and getting run over. Stephen King went running one early afternoon along Route 5 in Lovell, Maine, was struck by a distracted minivan driver and nearly died. In addition, I wouldn’t want people to see me with a tan and get the wrong impression. Need to keep up the charade that I spend my days indoors slaving away at the keyboard.

–Sleep until noon.

–Read the newspapers and news sites. And another. And another. I don’t care what you see and hear, writers like to read their own reviews. Writers may not like their critics, but they love to see their names in print. I’m no different.

–Lunch in New York, Boston, Philly and Washington, D.C. Again, I would need to “see and be seen.”

–Read the classics. When a fan calls me the greatest thing since Fitzgerald, Hemingway, or Salinger, I need to know who these writers are, so that I can modestly wave off their praise and say, “Oh, no, you’re way too kind.”

–Watch a lot of bad TV. Anyone up for binge watching “Law & Order”?

–Hire an intern to write my next book. Make a few edits. Make a few more minor edits. Slap my name on the book, put the intern’s name in 8-point font, preferably on the back of the book, and voila present my new book to my publisher. Got to keep the new books and the money coming in the door.

–Repeat the last step, two or three times a year. If I want to catch up to Patterson, I need to ramp it up a bit more. The name of the game is publishing, publishing, publishing!

Oh, sure my plan would be a huge lie but is that any different from what the big time authors do today? I don’t mean to be too hard on the big-name authors. I would probably do the same thing. Plus, we still line up every few months to buy their latest books.

Of course, I’m forgetting about another minor, but very important detail: My conscience would probably get in the way. I’d want to create something that interests my readers. Damn morals. They get me every time. Ugh.