The Takei To-Do, Take Two: The Ghosts Speak

Last week we asked our writers to boldly go where no ghost has gone before, to tell us whether they thought George Takei’s ghostwriter committed a major faux pas by revealing that he wrote some of the former Trekkie’s funny Facebook posts. The general verdict from our ghosts was, not surprisingly, largely critical: no matter the medium, ghost Rick Polito should have had his phaser set to silent.

Some of our ghosts, like speechwriter Bernard Lipsy, argued the traditional, absolutist line: “In my 35-year career at IBM, only my immediate colleagues knew for whom I wrote. Once the speaker opens his or her mouth, the words belong to that speaker and nobody else.” Echoing this sentiment, speechwriter Lisa Schiffren said, “It's always wrong to take credit for work that is supposed to come from the principal in question.”

Others were more conditional in their condemnation. Ghost and novelist Kerry Zukus said, “We don't know what was in the agreement [between Takei and Polito] or what went down behind the scenes,” but even without an agreement, “it should not be assumed that the ghost is free to brag about his or her work on a project. [He should] still ask permission from the client before telling the world.”

Sarah Wachter also said that consent was the key determinant. “When a ghostwriter decides to part the curtains and reveal himself, it should be done with the tacit consent of the client, and without divulging many details, keeping the statement general, casual, and understated. That’s what Polito did in his back-pedaling statement, saying: ‘I've had no direct contact with George. I've sent him some memes, as have other comedian types, and I was happy for the exposure.’”

But in the end, Liz Vance spoke for most of our ghosts when she said, “A ghost is a ghost, and shouldn't ever intentionally reveal that to the public.”

There was a much greater diversity of opinion about the ethical questions this episode raised for the new world of social-media ghosting.

Speechwriter Juli Branson suggested that the Takei case points to the dangers to and responsibilities of authors. “Social media has its own set of expectations from readers, who believe they are communicating directly with the person listed on the [social media] account,” she said. “Therefore, even if a celeb hires a ghostwriter, the celeb needs to be the one reading the posts and telling the writer how they would like to respond. If there is no connection between the celeb and the social media venue, isn't that like a speechwriter not just writing a speech, but also delivering it, and even saying they are the celeb?”

Other writers were softer on the scandal, suggesting that social media ghost-posting was something to be expected. Bookwriter Bob Fancher said, “I think the relevant question isn't the medium, but what the audience has a right to expect. I don't mind ghosting for corporate types or politicians or public office holders, because no one thinks they write their own stuff. Celebrities, it seems to me, fall into the same category. Maybe love letters and religious testimony shouldn't be ghosted. But celebrity Facebook comments? Really?”

In the end, some thought the most trenchant revelation from the whole hullabaloo was not about the morality, but the money. “I think the real embarrassment here is Takei paying just $10 for the postings, which have helped him resurrect his career and command decent appearance fees,” said Howard Rothman. “I'm not swayed by fact that the going rate for such work is appallingly low; it wouldn't be if people making a good living off this stuff offered fair remuneration.”

Guest Post: Looking for a Ghost

BY KERRY ZUKUS

This article originally appeared on Publishers Weekly.

I’ve ghosted books on nearly every conceivable subject. The first question every new ghostwriting client asks is, “Are you an expert or do you know anything about [fill in the blank]?” My answer is almost always the same: “No.”

So how do I do what I do? Furthermore, why do these people hire me?

Answer: While it is somewhat helpful to know a little about a subject before ghostwriting about it, it is absolutely unnecessary to be an expert. Why? Because the client is the expert. If I were the expert as well as the professional writer, why would I need the client in the first place?

Every field of interest has that dreaded thing called “jargon.” Experts use jargon endlessly and without pause. It is the language of their field. Fortunately or unfortunately, when people reach out for a ghostwriter, it is often because they are looking for an audience beyond the narrowness of their field and its accepted experts.

Enter the Dejargonizer. This is my superhero name. When my client rambles on about “Invertilizing the DRC of the SMU, we econometrically strafe the LLG, which leaves us in a much better astrometrical situation,” I stand up and scream, “Enough! What the heck does that mean?” As the Dejargonizer, I get to revel in my ignorance. My lack of expertise is my greatest weapon. When a client says, “Wow, you really are stupid,” I respond by saying, “Thank you.”

I take jargon and make it understandable. This is not “dumbing down.” I hate that phrase. It is “universalizing.” You can be a genius expert in one field and totally lost in the jargon of another. This is not a measure of IQ. Writing is communication. I am hired by people who are often relatively poor communicators to those outside their field.

Yes, conveying this at an initial hiring interview is dicey, but since I am a paid communicator, my first job, my proving ground, is to get my potential client to understand all this. If I am successful, I am hired.

It also helps that I am old enough to be referred to as “mature.” Ghostwriting is actually one of the few occupations where, I believe, somewhat older practitioners are at an advantage. When I am asked if I know anything about [fill in the blank], there is a far greater chance that I have at least a nodding knowledge of it simply through life experience. A long life has also taught me humility. I used to be really, really smart, but now I’m dumb as a tree stump. This ingratiates me to people; don’t ask me why. I seem less apt to try to take over someone else’s dream project and make it my own. I don’t feel the need to do such things. In the end, this is the client’s dream, not mine. When I was younger, I doubt I would have understood that.

How should a person go looking for a ghost or editor? Should a would-be author ask a potential ghostwriter or editor if they know much about his or her topic? Sure. But a person should do it more as a way of finding out if the ghost or editor has any interest or feel for the topic at all. If you are an expert on Australian Rules Football, the ghost or editor should at least have a passing knowledge or interest in sports in general. That’s often as good as it gets. Beware the writer who says, “I know nothing about that, and in general I hate sports. But I have lots of bills this month, so I’ll write just about anything.”

You should also see if you personally connect with the writer, since you will be spending a lot of time with him or her. Many friends of yours have no expertise in what you do in life, but you’re still able to bond with them because they take an interest in you and have inquiring minds. The same holds true when hiring a writer.

Look for a writer you connect with, someone who maybe has a tangential knowledge or interest in your topic and really wants to spend weeks or months immersed in it with you. Find that, and you’ve found your ghost.

Kerry Zukus is a full-time professional, published, and agented author and ghostwriter of more than 40 books. His first novel, The Fourth House (Madison Park Press) was a featured selection of the Book of the Month Club.

Guest Post: Two Ghosts, by Kerry Zukus

Last night, Gotham Ghostwriters had our annual holiday gathering, where we invite our writer friends out to meet one another and share stories and drinks. It was a lovely gathering of fascinating people, and for two writers, it was something even more amazing. Here's the story, by incredibly prolific ghostwriter Kerry Zukus. You can read the original post on his blog.

The Fourth House, my Book of the Month Club Feature Selection debut novel, took place in the fictional town of Mountain City on the fictional street of Good. Like many novels, not all of it was purely fiction, but was inspired by real events and places in the author’s life.

The protagonist's house was modeled after the house in which I was born. Unlike the main character, I didn't live there for my entire childhood, but moved—was forced to move—when I was three years old. Like the main character, my father abandoned my mother and me, forcing us to sell the house and downsize to a small apartment in the same town.

Change, like the loss of a father and the only home I’d ever known, is disconcerting for a three-year-old. One of my oldest memories is of the day of that upheaval. We’d finally moved into the apartment and were all relaxing at the kitchen table. My grandfather was a quiet man of few words, but when he spoke he made it count. Sensing my mood, he turned to me and quietly said, “Everything’s gonna be all right.” Cliché, I know, but profound and beautiful in its simplicity, for it covered any and all anxieties I was feeling. Everything’s gonna be all right. And it was.

We sold our house to the Davis family, who had a girl, Colleen, a year younger than I. Ironically, the Davises lived in the apartment we procured. Essentially, we traded houses; them moving up, and us moving down. For no logical reason, we became good friends with the Davis family, but after high school graduation, I never saw any of them again. I can say that about a lot of people from Mountain City. I left and hardly ever looked back, so the onus is on me.

Last night, I went to a party in New York hosted by Dan Gerstein and his company, Gotham Ghostwriters, with whom I occasionally work. It was a nice crowd, and a good time was had by all.  I milled about the room, talking to old colleagues and meeting new ones.

Toward the end of the night, a small blond with cupid lips approached me and said, “I hear you’ve written a lot of books,” which, as a ghostwriter, I have. We began talking about writing, about education, about a plethora of subjects. It was nice. At the end, as with all previous conversations I’d had that evening, we exchanged business cards. She got mine first.

Her jaw visibly dropped. “You’re Kerry Zukus?”

“Yes.”

“You’re Kerry Zukus.”

“Yes.”

“I’m Colleen Davis.” 

Simultaneously, we wrapped each other in the biggest bear hug I’ve shared in a long, long time.

I’m a writer. Colleen Davis is a writer. We both work with Gotham Ghostwriters and we both attended that one party on that one night, of all the holiday parties in the world. And neither of us had any idea of any of this up until that very moment.

Speaking of ghosts, once I’d told her about my novel and her/our house, Colleen said, “Don’t call me crazy, but I always thought there were ghosts in that house.”

Maybe there were and maybe there weren’t. But two ghostwriters did live there, one after the other.

Hey Dan, thanks for inviting us to your party. Can’t wait to see what surprises next year’s will bring.