Saturday, July 31, 2010


Writing is something that gives me great personal satisfaction. I love to see a completed sentence, paragraph, page, work - a hard copy of something that once only existed in my brain.

My dream is to be able to do what I love and make a living at it. Although my current job involves a lot of writing and provides that outlet for me to some degree, it is not fiction writing. That is where the dream begins.

On days when I am really indulging in fantasy, I try to put myself into the shoes of authors who not only make a living at it, but have hit the jackpot, either financially or with name recognition and legacy. It seems wrong to make crazy amounts of money for doing something you love so much, but I wouldn't turn it down.

My musings led me one day to research the best-selling authors of all time. Wikipedia provided such a list. Of course, it is not comprehensive, nor, being Wikipedia, necessarily fully accurate. But I found it very interesting. Here is the link.

A couple of reactions: Glad to see Willie Shakespeare on top, as it should be

Holy crap Barbara Cartland! Now I really feel like a slacker. She must have written a book a month.

I also found this article about Dean Koontz. I like him enough after reading this to try one of his books again or his autobiography.

It seems like a lot of successful authors are not as flashy as those who succeed in other areas of the arts, especially actors and singers. Although J.K. did buy that castle...


  1. She did? Wow.

    That was one of the things tha timpressed me when I started meeting authors. Most of them are amazingly normal. They are also very gracious.

    My current "if I do well at this writing thing" dream is a second home. Something rustic and simple but somewhere amazing. I'm debating between a Pacific Northwest Beach and the mountains. Wouldn't it e great to have an escape place to write that is visually inspiring?

  2. I agree, DJ. A visually inspiring place to write is a very appealing dream. Funny enough, though, I could've gone to the mountains to do our little writing marathon today, but I chose instead to stay home. I guess I was just more comfortable on my bed, listening to the breeze.