Some people have described me as prolific. I suppose, compared to Harper Lee or Jeff Torrington or Harold Brodky, I am. But I wish I could write more quickly. I love hearing stories (hopefully not apocryphal) about writers such as Michael Moorcock, who would feed a roll of paper into his typewriter (so that he wouldn’t have to tax himself by winding separate sheets into it) and pound out a novel in a weekend.
Georges Simenon is interesting. He would pack a bag, grab his typewriter and head off to some European city or other, check into a hotel and immerse himself so thoroughly in his work that he would have a completed draft of a new novel within twelve days (he could write up to 80 pages per day). He did this regularly throughout his adult life. In all he produced 200 novels (not counting the pulp fiction he wrote under various pseudonyms). There’s a fascinating interview with him, available as a downloadable PDF, here.
I managed a novel in four months once. But that novel-in-a-weekend challenge… I’ll have a crack at that one day.
Listened to: Bloodsport by Sneaker Pimps.