Ghosts

I ghost.

Yes, there are people whose books you read that never wrote a word of them. I did. I sign confidentiality agreements. Sometimes, they tell people I am their ghost. Sometimes not. In Tom's case, the guy is a phenomenal writer, just busy (I only ghosted his first two . . .). In other cases . . . people have big ideas, but can't write. Sometimes the person has different reasons. In the case of George, he was close to death. We completed the book and it was published and he died two weeks later. He was in his late 80s, and we were rushing to preserve history, to preserve words of a genocide so awful, I still have nightmares. George became like a grandfather to me, and his death was one of the saddest days of my life.

I ghost because . . . well, it's lucrative. And 99% of the time, I really enjoy it. You would not BELIEVE the topics I am an expert in because I have ghosted. I diagnose people's medical problems (just yesterday, turns out I 100% diagnosed the reasons for my brother-in-law's repeated hospitalizations). I could lecture about green issues in Europe. I could even tell you why string theory isn't even a theory.

But the most interesting thing about being a ghost is how it has honed my dialogue. Because when you ghost, you must SOUND in the writing EXACTLY like the person you are writing for. I don't write as ME, I write as THEM. To flawlessly adopt their voice is a tricky proposition, which is why a good ghost signs those nondisclosure agreements, and which is why most of the time you have no idea you are reading a ghosted book. This guy had his entire SERIES ghosted. (I no longer read him since his ghost quit--turns out the ghost was the great writer!) I've been approached by a couple of famous pundits to ghost. One's agent was such a jacka**, I knew I'd never work well with him, so I opted not to enter discussions. I could NEVER adopt his arrogant voice.

But back to dialogue . . . every person who speaks in your book should speak differently. Different cadences, rhythms, word hiccups. Who talks with their hands, who puts their hands on the other person when speaking? In The Magickeepers, Damian is arrogant and he speaks as he is already walking away from people. He calls my young hero "cousin." No one else does. Does the speaker shorten people's names? Does he or she use a nickname for your character that no one else does, showing familiarity that only that person enjoys? Do they move away when they talk? Lean in close? Do they whisper? Another Magickeepers trait--when they speak ill, they spit three times. You'd notice THAT, right?

I only rarely ghost now. I'm busy with my own stuff, and I have to really WANT to work with the person. But I am grateful for what I learned. If we're all like snowflakes, no two alike . . . no one talks precisely like you. No one talks like me. I am "accentless"--thanks to living in Bermuda as a child, and all the "New York"disappearing. Except when I see my relatives or talk on the phone to them. Then I can start to sound like Fran Drescher. THAT'S a trait to put in a book.

Spend today listening to people. Pretend you're a ghost. What do you notice? What do you notice about yourself?

Phone Home

Kathy pondered here yesterday why do some fave authors seem to "phone it in" (my phrase) after a while. We all know big household names that, after a while, their books just don't hold up anymore. I suppose because they are such big names, we can rattle off a few that I hear this about commonly--Anne Rice (after the first two or three vamp books . . .), James Patterson, fill-in-the-blank.

But household names aren't the only ones that seem to phone it in. I know plenty of mid-list authors with many, many titles and their most loyal fans have given up on them. Why?

I don't have all the answers. But a few thoughts . . . I do notice the new trend of people like Patterson taking on a co-author. The co-author does all the writing, the name guy has the big letters on the cover. I could think of a half-dozen BIG names that now do this. The name thinks of the idea. The lesser-known writer writes it. In Patterson's case, he says he is giving upcoming writers a chance. I would like to take that sentiment at face value, but I know I sometimes wonder. And in Patterson's case, he CAN write. He just now takes on an assistant, if you will.

I do NOT like this trend. True story . . . I was aproached about doing this. Household name. Wanted a ghost. I see household name on Court TV and other shows, and his books aren't well-reviewed. He never COULD write (unlike some others who do this). He just has a name and a career on the front pages. And the ideas. To me, if you are a writer . . . write every word. Anything less is a cop-out. No one can take my idea and craft it the way I would. Some people just use this sort of trend to, basically, either take a check to the bank. Or to stroke their ego. Some it may well be wanting to pull in a friend (or a son, as in Clive Cussler's case.)

Sometimes, there is a disconnect between editor and author. Sometimes, to be honest, in miniseries, it's not the author's idea, but the house's, and sometimes an author can adapt to the storyline, sometimes not. I know plenty of great authors whose miniseries books aren't so great (in fans' opinions). But it's hard to be handed a concept and be told "do it this way." There are story "bibles" for the miniseries, and elements that HAVE to be there. It's a less organic process.

Sometimes, and I have been told this by more than one editor, the author just doesn't stretch his or her wings. They mine the same storyline and insert new characters. The flipside is you can have people like me who write across many genres. This is generally not done, and I know I break convention by doing it, but the simple fact is I have a lot of different interests and I love writing across different genres. However, a fan who likes you in one genre, may loathe you in another.

And therein, is the other aspect. No one, and I promise you no one, sets out to write a "bad book." I suppose some authors we love them so much that we project a little of that love onto them, and when they disappoint, we ourselves feel irritated. I know I have had people actually write to me with the following scenarios: "I loved SPANISH DISCO, but then I bought DIARY OF A BLUES GODDESS and I didn't feel the same way about it." Only to get the next email, "I have never reacted to a book the way I did DIARY OF A BLUES GODDESS. I cried happy tears at the end. I will never forget it. You know, I read SPANISH DISCO and I thought it was okay, so I decided to try this one. WOW! You are really growing as a writer." Or this one, "I bought MAFIA CHIC. You have a lot of nerve passing this off as an Italian family. NO ITALIAN GIRL WOULD EVER talk to her male cousin about sex." (Swear, I got that response!!!!!). Or, "I loved MAFIA CHIC so much. It reminded me of my own big, Italian family exactly. Loved it. Can you write a sequel?"

It's enough to make an author's head spin. But you see what I mean? I didn't "phone in" any of those books . . . BUT . . . when you love a book so much, you project something both onto the book and the author. Sometimes the author lives up to what it is you loved. Sometimes not.

Thoughts?