Living south of Hollyweird, I’m pretty much immune to pretenders whose audiences confuse the size of actors' assets with actual god-given talent. But I have to admit this sort of thing inverts my eyelids because I work my butt off to write good solid stories that are relevant and entertaining, stories that make people think.
This chick is raking in piles of money, and it’s all a lie. She’s no more an author than I am a talented surgeon who employs Reiki on my patients. It’s an affront who anyone who agonizes over plot and character development, structure, pacing, points of view, and editorial content.
“Of course I didn’t write my own books. I don't have time to do that...”
Oh good grief, of course she doesn’t have time to actually WRITE the book. Silly me. Actual writing is for the little people. Can you imagine she had 300,000 sales in six weeks with her first book - or rather her ghost writer's first book? She is little more than a literary peep show. Pah, I’m going to go drink some Draino.
*I realize she probably needs many Reiki hugs, but who can get around those boobs? Reiki hugs=0