The Levels of Greatness a Fiction Writer Can Achieve in

[Monte Davis]

And let's not forget editors. From (semi-reclusive) Don DeLillo's _Mao II_,
here's Charlie Everson, editor of reclusive (natch) novelist Bill Gray:

"For many happy years I've listened to writers and their brilliant
kvetching. The most successful writers make the biggest complainers. This is
so interesting to me. I wonder if the qualities that produce a top writer
also account for the ingenuity and size of his complaints. Does writing come
out of bitterness and rage or does it produce bitterness and rage?"

"Or both," Bill said.

"Everyone complains about the loneliness. The solitude is killing. The
nights are sleepless. The days are taut with worry and pain. Bemoan, bemoan.
The novelists are doing interviews. The interviewers are writing novels. The
money is never enough. The acclaim is falling short. Come on, Bill, what
else?"

"It must be hard for you, dealing with these wretches day after day."

"No, it's easy. I take them to a major eatery. I say, Pooh pooh pooh pooh. I
say, Drinky drinky drinky. I tell them their books are doing splendidly in
the chains. I tell them readers are flocking to the malls. I say, Coochy
coochy coo. I recommend the roast  onkfish with savoy cabbage. I tell them
the reprint bidders are howling in the commodity pits. There is miniseries
interest, there is audiocassette interest, the White House wants a copy for
the den. I say, The publicity people are setting up tours. The Italians love
the book completely. The Germans are groping for new levels of rapture. Oh
my oh my oh my."