This is the woman of 23 million

On Tuesday, I was invited to a dinner in honor of the woman of 23 million. I didn't know her. I did know the man of six million, but the last time I saw him was quite a while ago. It was about Camilla Läckberg, also known as the woman of 23 million. That is the number of books she has sold. Jochem, the amazing PR person from publishing house Overamstel, whispered to me that all her books have been adapted into films. So I’m going to do some calculations. The rule of thumb is that as a writer, you earn one euro per book, although I suspect there’s a sliding scale once you surpass 100,000 copies. Then there are some film rights and undoubtedly a little extra here and there, and I dare to think that there’s a messy forty million euros in her bank account.

That is being celebrated, because this evening Camilla is wearing a lovely bright blue one-piece with a sturdy Chanel bag on her arm. A journalist who interviewed her the day before mentions that she had a different bag from the same brand on her arm the day before. And that she wanted to take the elevator instead of the stairs because of her heels. My kind of girl, Camilla.

I thought I was dealing with a single woman somewhere in her thirties, but it turns out she is two years younger than me, a mother of four children (with three men), and she is ‘by training’ an economist. But that was too boring, so she dove into the laptop. And the rest, well, you know that now.

Her latest thriller is packed with drugs and bad things. And Camilla thinks that the Swedish tourist board has no problem with that. ‘Our image is so polished and neat, it can definitely have a rough edge.’

If she wants to share a small, sweet moment of revenge, Daphne Deckers asks Camilla. Well, she does. She was cruelly dumped by a man and took gentle revenge by texting him: ‘Remember I said that size doesn’t matter? I lied.’

Daphne mentions that male thriller writers complain about the fact that so many women are suddenly writing thrillers. It would lower the level. ‘Oh really,’ says Camilla. ‘And how many are they selling?’

Camilla, I hadn't read a letter of yours yet, but this summer your entire oeuvre is on my menu.