Danielle Steel, noted author of such storied romance novels as Palomino, Lone Eagle, and Bungalow 2, has started a blog. So far, Steel has only posted two items, but already, the literature has afforded the reader a rare and troubling insight into the dark inner workings of Steel’s mind. “It’s going to be fun sharing my thoughts with you, outside the context of a book,” Steel wrote in her initial post, before launching into a 400-word dissection of her own deepest fears about the irreversible aging process (posted under “Uncategorized.”)
“I decide recently that I am at what the French call an ‘ungrateful’ age, i.e. a bad age,” wrote Steel. “[T]urning fifty seemed so horrible, it nearly killed me. And everything after that has been truly scary.” Steel reasons, however, that the very enterprise of blogging her horrific aging experience will allow her to come to terms with the process. “[M]y commitment today, on this first day of my blog, is to enjoy whatever age I am, and you enjoy whatever age you are, without feeling that you’re on the wrong side of the age fence . . .thank you for reading my first blog!”
But following the cheery send off, Steel returned to blog darker revelations. In her second entry, entitled, simply, “Halloween,” Steel wrote: “Now that we’re getting to know each other a little better, I will confess that I have an extremely silly sense of humor,” she wrote, before detailing a long history of verbal in-fighting disguised as jokes between Steel and her children:
My oldest daughter has an outrageous sense of humor too. She dressed as a pumpkin for Halloween one year, painted her face orange and dyed her hair green. It was a great costume, until she discovered the next day that the orange color on her face wouldn’t come off—-for the next 3 weeks! (She works in a hospital, and they sent her home, thinking she was jaundiced.) My other children demonstrate the same inclination, and April Fool is a nightmare at our house. Every year, at least two of the unmarried ones call to tell me that they’re pregnant, and three to say they’re in jail. And I always fall for the first three calls until I realize what day it is.
Danielle Steel’s domestic nightmare is mediated only by her insatiable desire to disguise herself as increasingly ridiculous alter-egos in an attempt to dull the pain. She writes:
Okay, guess—-what I am going to be this year? A fairy princess? Dracula? Little Bo Peep? Wonderwoman? NO!!! . . . I’m going to be a whoopee cushion for Halloween. I love the costume! And to make matters worse, I am going to have a remote controlled device in the pocket to add the sound effects. It is unbelievably funny and rude.
It’s worse than anyone could have possibly imagined. Stay tuned. I’ll be updating the complexities of Steel’s story as it develops.