Novelist Daniel Silva’s newest is “The Heist.” About an art theft. Best-selling author 15 times, maybe rich enough to own Old Masters, it’s: “Please. I attended Christie’s postmodern auction. You know what it takes to be an art collector? I collect books. My art is my late uncle John’s watercolors.”
Okay, so, how do his thriller stories evolve?
“Broad concepts are born and then the work begins. My computer file has one or two sentences. I do stuff around that, but not an outline. Another thing. Too much research is dangerous, or the story’s burdened with knowledge you want to show off. You start writing. Characters drive the action, then background is inserted into the plot when necessary. ‘The Heist’ is linked to current events, like ’69, when the Caravaggio was stolen.
“You can get something wrong. I’m not a gun person. I dislike firearms. My characters use them, but I made a mistake with the name of some weaponry and those passionate zealots were irked.
“When writing, I wear the same gray sweatpants, fleece slippers, daily. Shades drawn and dark. Triple-pane windows. I’m noise sensitive. The slightest sound drives me crazy. And despite my characters eating, I subsist on coffee, tea and biscuits. Not healthy, but anything else weighs me down. I must work. After the book’s in hand and I can see the ending, I’m not in a fetal position anymore.
“My schedule’s a book a year. As this tour finishes, work begins on my next. Its first draft’s due contractually March 31.
“‘The Heist’ had two endings. Difficult decision. Find the Caravaggio . . . or is it never found? I went back and forth, discussing it incessantly with my wife (journalist Jamie Gangel). She’s my private editor. The one I trust. I literally write for Jamie.”
Royals’ majestic meal
We speak now of Spain’s king and queen, whom we all know intimately (except maybe my plumber who only knows thrones when their pipes are clogged up) as Felipe and Letizia. Morocco’s majesties, whom we all know intimately as Mohammad VI and his missus Lalla Salma, threw them a state banquet. No stand-up, finger-food, pigs-in-blankets buffet. We’re talking sit-down, the great hall of Rabat’s Royal Palace.
Lalla Salma’s shmatte? Embroidered in gold and diamonds. Don’t think H&M. Necklace and earrings, the world’s largest emeralds. King Felipe did a uniform. Mohammad sported a red fez.
I tell you all this so you’ll stop gossiping about those drecky Hampton cookouts.
Point of no return
Overheard: “Alex Rodriguez ever return to baseball?”. . .
“Naah. If he couldn’t play when he was supposedly junked up, how’s he going to play now?”
Bits & pieces
Quote from Beyoncé’s father Mathew Knowles: “She’s an artist. She paints even better than she sings”. . .
Freda Payne coming into NYC. New album out Aug. 9. . .
Justin, a sober and somber Bieber, dining quietly at Porta Via on that other coast. . .
The actual countess who lives in the actual “Downton Abbey” castle: “Until its writer/creator Julian Fellowes actually stayed here one weekend, my idea of Highclere was just a home for friends and family.”
Dropping names
Chris Noth: “My last name doesn’t sound like ‘sloth.’ It rhymes with ‘both.’ ”. . .
More names: Leguizamo. “When I started at the bottom, they’d butcher my name. Call it ‘legs-and-gumbo.’ Al Pacino called me ‘Legs of Lamb.’ ”. . .
Joaquin Phoenix: “Nobody butchered my name worse than Mark Wahlberg, who called me ‘Yo-Hooker.’ It then morphed into ‘Rakeem,’ like I was some sort of rapper.”
Bear Stearns former CEO, the now former Ace Greenberg, cashed in Friday. I forever knew this delicious human being, who once donated money for Cardozo Law School’s bathrooms. In gratitude, their toilet hung a plaque thanking him. . .
Only in New York, kids, only in New York.