Who the hell is Sara Gran, anyway?
Anywhere else in the country, people say, “Gee, you really published a book?” In Brooklyn, they ask when you’re going on Charlie Rose and if you know Jonathan Lethem. If not, end of conversation, time to move on. Getting off the F train right now is a young woman whose first novel was just pre-empted by Vintage for high six figures. The New York Times Magazine is writing her profile, Marion Ettlinger is taking her head shots, and she’s preapproved for a co-op on Prospect Park West.
You try writing a book under these circumstances.
I'm trying. It's no harder than anywhere else.
The title of this post is designed to cause her maximum annoyance should she ever stumble across it, by the way. Her whole whiny article is about how hard it is to get famous with all this heavy-hitting competition around. You know what? It's also a lot easier to get published if you live right around the corner from every book editor in the country.
Or at least that's what I hear.