On those occasions such as this morning, when I start my day with a leftover slice from Ballpark Pizza, I always think of the fasting guru who told me that any food was permissible when breaking a fast, "unless, you know, it's pizza."
What follows is a cautionary tale, though not about nutrition.
I made a vow to myself back when I first began writing that I would take any job that came my way, provided it was morally and ethically sound. Hence, in addition to writing books you might have heard of, I've signed deals to ghostwrite books with three different self-styled gurus — a billionaire, a self-help guy whom I guarantee you know, and the fasting nerd. I can't say their names because of NDA's, but I can tell you the gigs involved flying private, green slushies, vegetarian corn dogs, and constant battles to get paid.
Writing a book with a guru is not an immersion into wisdom and transformation. It is, in fact, a slow walk through hell, every day spent trying to write in the voice of someone who believes the world revolves around them, and who believes writers should work for free. I'm a slow learner, which is why I didn't stop after just one bad experience.
This is where I point out that a co-author and a ghostwriter are two different things. Co-authors literally write the book with an individual and get their name on the cover. I've done more than a dozen of these with Bill O, James Patterson, and Mark Burnett. It's good money, they're extremely nice guys to work with, and the memories are priceless. Working with Bill has sent me researching all around the world, Jim is a font of great writing advice, and Mark and I once flew all the way across the country in a private jet so he could visit Martha Stewart in prison. My job was to have lunch at the Greenbrier and make sure the media didn't know about the rendezvous. I had a blast.
Ghostwriting means you write in someone else's voice, cash the check, and don't get your name on the cover. Mostly because you don't want to — your God-given gift for writing sullied by the opposite of creativity, an endurance contest of putting words on the page every day until the ordeal is over. Which can take a long time, because gurus like attention, which means they want someone to listen to their every word, even if it has nothing to do with telling their story. In the case of the financial guy and self-help guru, this meant a clause in my contract stipulating I had to be on call to fly anywhere in the world at any time to listen to their ideas about the book. Then they show up hours late for their meeting and talk about everything under the sun except the project, and the next thing you know you've missed your child's Little League game because you missed your flight home, which makes you swear you'll never jet halfway around the world to interview an asshole again, only to be reminded that it's in your contract. Which is a feeling of amazing powerlessness. These things stay with you.
Why do I mention this? Why spend an entire blog telling you how I feel about windy millionaires? I blame the pizza. It reminded me of the fasting guy, which reminded me of gurus I've worked for and that I have loved every minute of every day I have spent writing for a living — except when I work with gurus. I admit that I am part of the problem, a little too proud and independent for my own good. Gurus like servitude, not backbone.
Having said that, one reason I write this blog is to help would-be writers navigate the literary world. So this is a cautionary tale. The gift of creativity is one we all possess. Cherish it — and be aware ghostwriting will crush your soul.
That is all.
Enjoy your pizza.