Prolific Aspirations?

This post may be a bit preliminary. I'm still sorting this one out:

For a long time in my life, I have admired very prolific people with large bodies of work. People like Bill Leeb, who has been in or started 9 different bands, or Frank Zappa, who has perhaps the largest discography of all time. I admire people who espouse hard work and dedication as the secret to their success, such as athletes and other successful individuals.

But this admiration is in direct conflict with the other half of me, the half that says slow down, relax, don't stress, have as few desires as possible. The 'calm' me doesn't like to work, and is content not to be successful. This, in turn, is in conflict with the part of me that wants to succeed at something.

But, do I want to be famous? Maybe I do. But until yesterday, I simply admired famous, successful, hard-working, prolific people, and felt guilty about not being those things myself. It then occurred to me, finally, after many years of this, that it is possible that I do admire them, but maybe I don't actually want to be like them. Am I ready to give up my "balanced" life to dedicate everything to one goal? I know that many areas of my life would suffer for the sake of success, if indeed success is even attainable purely through hard work (talent is a difficult metric to guage).

It's just a thought. I had never considered my admiration in this way. My initial goal, "finish one book, at some point" is much more reasonable than the prolificness I coveted and guilted over.