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On the face of it, this is absolutely hilarious, the notion that an author might be limited to cranking out only three books a day. Seriously, who reads this carp? For those of us who've always held that the effort/return ratio for seeking out the odd gem in the dross of self-pubbed books is astronomical (if you put any value at all on your time, you might as well pay for something decent), it's yet more proof.
"Time for bed, James!"
"A few more minutes, Nora, I've got to finish up today's third book."
Heck, change it to the already prolific Stephen and Tabitha, and it's still absurd.
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