E. L. James
E. L. James
Erika Mitchell, known by her pen name E. L. James, is an English author. She wrote the bestselling erotic romance novels trilogy Fifty Shades of Grey, Fifty Shades Darker, and Fifty Shades Freed, along with the companion novel Grey: Fifty Shades of Grey as Told by Christian...
NationalityBritish
ProfessionAuthor
negotiation contracts written
Any relationship that you have is about negotiation - anything - whether there is a written contract or not.
mean people lovely
All a writer wants is to be read, and people are so flattering and lovely. I mean, there are witches out there as well. But most are so kind.
fantasy
God forbid that women have fantasies.
want stories passionate
Women basically want the same thing - a good passionate story, a great fantasy - and for our partners to do the laundry and the washing up.
hero expectations long
Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Perhaps I've spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes, and consequently my ideals and expectations are far too high.
pain easier
It's much easier to wear your pain on the outside.
nice book first-love
It's the fantasy of first love. If you've been married for 400 years, as I have, it's nice to experience first love again and you can vicariously through a book. And it is such a fantasy. It takes you away from doing the dishes and the laundry. I think of this as a contemporary romance rather than erotic fiction.
thinking stories love-story
I think women love to read love stories.
bars storytelling term
I've set the bar quite high in terms of storytelling.
writing uggs house
I'm looking forward to getting back to my house and my Ugg boots and not washing sometimes, and getting back to writing.
stories
I came up with a story and I wrote it.
thinking fifty shade
I don't think [Fifty Shades of Grey is] a model for anything. Except maybe in bed.
struggle dark flames
The candle flame is too hot. It flickers and dances in the over-warm breeze, a breeze that brings no respite from the heat. Soft gossamer wings flutter to and fro in the dark, sprinkling dusty scaled in the circle of light. I'm struggling to resist, but I'm drawn. And then it's to bright, and I am flying too close to the sun, dazzled by the light, fried and melting from the heat, weary in my endeavers to stay airborn. I am so warm. The heat... It's stiffling, overpowering. It wakes me.
pain broken sadism
I cannot be with someone who takes pleasure in inflicting pain on me, someone who can't love me