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A Diamond, Not So Rough
May 1, 2008
It’s not easy being James Patterson. Sure, he’s got a big-house publisher (Hachette), a hot-shot agent (Bob Barnett, who is now going to be mad at me because, as he’s told me many times, he’s an attorney, not an agent) and a slew of super-bestselling books. But, somehow, it seems, something is lacking. Even as he spoke at a party in his honor at Tiffany’s for his umpteenth book, Sundays at Tiffany’s, even as he stood surrounded by handlers and fans and lots and lots of bling, Patterson seemed, well. . . a little bit sad.
What’s he got to be sad about? As every journalist who has ever covered him knows, Patterson is thin-skinned. (I bet that first paragraph has him upset already. Sorry, Jim) He doesn’t like it when you tease him about his success, or suggest that many of his books are written by assistants (they’re not, he insists: he deals with absolutely every plot twist and detail, even if he doesn’t write every word) or say anything even a soupcon less than praiseful about him and his work. In the eyes of many, James Patterson has it all -- but he doesn't often enough feel the love.
So I'll try to show him some: The Patterson party at Tiffany’s – guests included Liz Smith, Joni Evans, among many others – was perfect. The drinks were plentiful, the food was good, the crowd was happy – and Patterson’s speech (“I like Tiffany’s, but my wife LOVES Tiffany’s”) was affable enough. In fact, it was just about what you’d expect from someone who cut his teeth – and made his first fortune – in the advertising business. On stage and on page, the guy can work the room, be it at tony Tiffany's or at Wal-Mart, where millions of Patterson books are sold.
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Posted by Sara Nelson on May 1, 2008 | Comments (9)
