Have you ever wished to life the life of a writer, or perhaps the life of a ghostwriter; completely invisible, able to observe all that is around you without ever being spotted by so much as a single set of eyes?
Even the most social creatures among us have probably at one time or another wished we could simply fade into the background, quietly observe our surroundings, and ponder their impact without that incessant exchange fundamental to most any social setting. For some this would be paradise; to unleash thought and observation, minus the assignment of personality that must so often fall behind them.
Welcome to the life of a ghostwriter.
Living the life of a writer might be at least a little more traditional, but as a ghostwriter I am often the fly on the wall, first gathering information and then reinterpreting it for an eager or expectant audience. Because these new articulated thoughts were never mine to begin with, I have latitude to lend them a vibrancy that may not have been otherwise possible. Like a skilled musician covering the song of another.
When every word belongs to you, there is an attachment that can hold you back, rooting you in the stationary stance of your character; who you are, who you were, and who you will one day be. By releasing the credit, you are not only surrendering ownership of well articulated ideas, you are allowing the writer inside you to fly.
Whenever I write for myself, whether it is a piece of fiction, a poem or long winded prose detailing a day with my family, I can never fully unplug from my relationship to those particular ideas and specific sets of language. When I am writing for another, things are different. Writing for a voice outside my own allows me to completely abandon both legacy and ego, leaving behind only the raw writer inside with a full toolbox at his disposal.
When someone hires a ghostwriter, it is because they want their ideas articulated in a way that they themselves do not have the time or skill to accomplish. A good ghostwriter knows how to write from behind a voice imbued with enough measured strength to grant clarity to the copy, but without ever stepping in front of the camera.
The best to live the life of a writer who remains invisible to all is to act like a fly on the wall in the midst of a crowd, staying far from view while listening to the music of conversation swirling around them. A good ghostwriter knows how to stay invisible, never forget what they see, and whisper it so that no one knows they were there.
About Sean Platt
This is a fantastic post, Sean, a vital concept expressed with beautiful clarity. I’ve Stumbled it and if I knew how to tweet it, I would. (I joined Twitter but have been scared to do anything as there’s so much to learn…:( )
It’s interesting how often your posts about ghostwriting remind me of life coaching. It’s only when we are offering our skills to others without ego that we can truly understand just how many tools we have in our toolboxes and what a wealth of instinct we have to tap into. Listening to others well is one of the most precious gifts we can ever bestow on another human being. I know you don’t use quotations much any more, but this post reminded me of one of my favourites:
Janice, we have to get you on Twitter. So what do we do now? Give me your Twitter handle and I’ll go in and follow you. I also written a series of posts on TwiTip that I think you might like. “Twitter is the New Recess,” “The Twitter Bushes,” and “Tweeting Your Best Self.”
Thanks, Sean. Naomi outed me and tried to help but then I froze when I realised I’d actually have to do something. I’ll send you an email then look up your posts at Twitip. I see you have no tweetbacks yet so I’m wondering where on earth my effort at tweeting ended up!
Don’t take it personally – the tweeting part of the plugin doesn’t seem to work very consistently, on this or any of the sites I have it installed in. I’m sure it’s the plugin and not you.