The gestalt of ghostwriting

Kibitzing back and forth with a writer friend last night, I was trying to explain the mindset that makes it possible for me to write books for which other people receive credit. I've had many such conversations over the years, and responses vary from "How do I get a gig like that?" to "Whore! Whore of the Medicis!" but a common theme seems to be a disbelief that I could possibly be okay with it. And a bit of an eye-roll when I, a lowly ghostwriter, aspire to high artistic ideals.

For many (if not all) writers, a major part of the thrill of being published is seeing one's name on the cover of a book, the author photo in the newspaper, a big poster announcing the table signing at Barnes & Noble. For my first few books, I was totally on that bus. Loved getting out there and talking to people and meeting booksellers and doing interviews. It was trippy seeing my picture in the London Daily Mail, I won't deny it.

But that buzz wore off for me after my last novel. I took a beating from critics and personal insults and threats from readers. Thrill gone. I just felt exposed and vulnerable, and my response to that was to pull into the safe, solid turtle shell of my home office. There I discovered that I could really write a lot more when my focus was inward instead of outward. And I liked it.

Colleen has shared a lot of thoughts on self-promotion in this space over the last year, the ups and downs, the balance we all seek, but one thing that can be agreed on -- it takes a lot of time and energy. If you're building a career as a novelist, that is time and energy well spent. But what if you could draw a Get Out of PR Free! card? What if you could have the money without the fame? For me, that is a quick and easy trade. The people who matter (editors and agents who will hopefully bring me the next interesting project) know that I did this work. I'm building a solid rep in this biz as someone who has talent, meets deadlines, and gets along with folks who lead complicated lives and are not always super easy to get along with.

My friend told me last night -- and he was right -- that I am a crappy reporter. Because I believe the best willingly and the worst reluctantly. A memoir is a totally different art form that has only a skiff of a whiff in common with a biography or autobiography. It's about reflection and introspection, not a yada yada yada recitation of details. Does this make it less worthy as a piece of art? Maybe. Depends on who you're asking. But it's a form I love because it's so human and soft. And forgiving. I'd rather see a naked body painted by Matisse as opposed to a naked body depicted on nakedchicks.com, and I frankly don't think the Matisse is less factually accurate.

The key to being a successful ghostwriter is a complete suspension of vanity that enables one to genuinely love the project and the client for exactly what it is and who they are. If you go into it as a way to hobnob with the rich and famous, you're doomed, because they can smell that a mile off. If you go into it for the money, you're doomed, because it's unsteady, seldom worth the aggravation, and leads you into temptation; greed makes you to take projects you're not right for, which is the road to ruin. So enter into it for the sake of a book -- or stay home.

According to the dictionary:

gestalt
Pronunciation: \gə-ˈstält, -ˈshtält, -ˈstȯlt, -ˈshtȯlt
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural ge·stalts also ge·stalt·en
Etymology: German, literally, shape, form
Date: 1922
: a structure, configuration, or pattern of physical, biological, or psychological phenomena so integrated as to constitute a functional unit with properties not derivable by summation of its parts

There are several things people hate/disrespect about what I do, and it's fruitless for me to try to defend one facet or another because I see the gestalt -- the integrated unit that is something different from the sum of its parts. Is it cool for one person to take credit for another person's work? No, generally speaking, it isn't. Do I love it that "authors" like Britney Spears rake in advances with twice as many zeros as most of the talented, hardworking wordsmiths I know? No, I hate that. Am I holding this story to the high journalistic standards I expect from a biography? Hell, no.

The reality of a ghosted memoir is not the sum of those parts; it's the integrated project that brings peace, healing, and closure to the client, prosperity to the writer, and a pleasant experience to the hungry reader.

(Above: two halves of Matisse's "The Red Room" painted in 1908.)