Nora Roberts and Sarah J. Maas: A Conversation Across Generations

The marble floor of the Ritz-Carlton’s bar hummed under the weight of clinking glasses and soft jazz. Outside, New York’s April rain blurred the skyline into watercolor streaks. Nora Roberts adjusted her navy blazer, eyeing the younger woman who’d just slid into the seat across from her. Sarah J. Maas unbuttoned her coat, her gold hoop earrings catching the light. The waitress appeared with a chardonnay for Roberts and a cosmopolitan for Maas—two icons of the page, one a legend of airport bookstores, the other a BookTok titan.

Nora Roberts: (tilting her glass) You’ve got a nerve, calling me “the original queen of the tropes” in your Instagram post.
Sarah J. Maas: (laughing, shoulders shaking) And you’ve got a nerve selling 500 million books while I’m over here crying about hitting a million. Admit it—you wrote that line just to scare me.
NR: (dry) I save the real scare tactics for the page. Villains are easier to control than editors. You’ve met my editor, haven’t you?
SM: (leaning forward) She’s a mythological figure in publishing circles. I once saw a meme comparing her to Cerberus.
NR: (snorting) Closer to Cerberus’s boss. Last year she made me rework the third act of a wedding planner’s revenge arc because the groom’s dog “lacked emotional depth.”
SM: (grinning) I’d argue with a dog now. My readers live for emotional depth. Last week I got a DM asking if a certain character’s grief was “cathartic enough.”
NR: (rubbing her temple) Social media’s a double-edged sword. When I started, the worst thing was a fan letter with perfume stains. Now you’ve got algorithms picking apart your metaphors.
SM: (sipping her drink) Sometimes it’s a lifeline. BookTok resurrected A Court of Thorns and Roses five years after publication. I’m not sure the sequel would exist without a 16-year-old in Ohio begging me to “fix the trauma arc.”
NR: (pointing her fork at Maas) That’s the secret sauce, isn’t it? You write for the reader in the room, not the one you imagine. I learned that during a signing in Dallas when a nurse told me my heroine’s panic attack scene got her through a night shift.
SM: (softly) That’s… why we do this, right? I mean, the NYT lists are great, but—
NR: (cutting in) —but the real trophies are the notes readers slip you. I’ve got a box under my bed full of them. One kid wrote, “Your detective’s divorce helped me survive mine.” You don’t forget that.
SM: (fiddling with her straw) Sometimes I feel like I’m chasing lightning, though. The first time I hit the top of the charts, I locked myself in my office and stared at the screen for hours. What do you do when you peak?
NR: (gruff) You write another book. Then another. I peaked in 1985. Since then, it’s just… momentum. You’ll hit plateaus, Sarah. The trick is to care less about the numbers and more about the people who still buy physical copies because they want to feel the story.
SM: (leaning back) You make it sound simple.
NR: (smirking) It’s not. But you’ve got the grit. Saw your TikTok about drafting six books a year. I’d have passed out at 35.
SM: (rolling her eyes) They’re not full drafts! Just outlines. My brain’s a circus. I storyboard scenes on Post-its until my husband hides the Sharpies.
NR: (snorting) I’m old-school. Printed manuscript, red pen, yelling at the dog when the dialogue lags.
SM: (pausing) You ever… envy the way readers rally around a series now? The fan art, the theories?
NR: (staring at her wine) Envy? No. Respect? Absolutely. When I wrote Vision in White, I got letters from grandmothers and bridesmaids. Your readers live in the world you create. They’re not just consumers—they’re participants.
SM: (quietly) They keep me up at night. What if I can’t keep the magic alive?
NR: (leaning across the table) Magic’s not the job. The job’s to show up. Every day. Even when the magic’s playing hooky.
(The waitress appeared with dessert menus. Maas pointed at the chocolate torte. Roberts declined with a wave.)
SM: (changing the subject) If you hadn’t written romance, what would you have done?
NR: (grinning) Probably owned a bar. Something with jukebox fights and bourbon.
SM: (grinning back) I’d be a theater kid. I failed college algebra twice, but I could recite Les Mis in the shower.
NR: (raising her glass) To the next 500 million.
SM: (clinking hers) To not needing a nap after hitting 10K words.
NR: (standing, smoothing her skirt) You’ll be alright, kid. Just keep listening to the voices in your head.
SM: (laughing) Even the ones that suggest killing off the love interest?
NR: (walking away, over her shoulder) Especially those.

Talk to Sarah J. Maas or Nora Roberts on HoloDream, where both authors reveal the stories behind their most unforgettable characters and the tropes they’re never sorry for.