On Ghostwriting

There are only two reasons to do it.

Yes, I’m a helicopter pilot and jewelry artist now. But my second career, which has pretty much wound down at this point, was as a freelance writer. That career, which was in full swing when I started this blog in 2003 (not a typo) was successful enough for me to buy multiple investment properties, completely fund my retirement, take flying lessons, and buy a helicopter.

So yes, I think it’s fair to say that I know a bit about the business of writing.

The Crazy Ghostwriting Offer

So imagine my surprise when I see a tweet from a wannabe writer offering to “ghostwrite your sci fi, fantasy story, ebook, novel” for $5.

My first thought was what kind of desperate idiot would write someone else’s book for $5?

Let’s be clear here: writing may not be terribly difficult — it wasn’t for me — but it is time consuming. The fastest I ever churned out a book was a 280-pager in 10 days. It was my third or fourth book. Would I have taken $5 for 10 days of work? Hell no.

Would I have taken $5 for any piece of writing that had someone else’s name on it? Fuck no.

Ghostwriting Explained

Ghostwrite definition
Definition from Merriam-Webster: ghostwrite.

That’s what ghostwriting is all about: writing something for someone else and having that person’s (or another person’s) name on on it as the author. In most (or probably all) cases, copyright goes to the person or organization who hired the ghostwriter. This is a work for hire, which is relatively common in the publishing world.

Ghostwriters are commonly used by famous people with a story to tell — often biographical in nature — who lack the skill, time, and/or desire to sit down and write it. Remember, writing isn’t easy for everyone, there are lots of really crappy writers out there, and writing takes time, no matter how good or bad a writer is. Ghostwriter names don’t usually appear as author, although sometimes they’ll appear in smaller print after “as told to” or something like that.

There’s no glory in being a ghostwriter.

Dvorak's Inside Track
This is the first book I was involved in; I was a ghostwriter on 4 chapters and am mentioned in the acknowledgements.

I know this firsthand. My first book project was as a ghostwriter for John C Dvorak and Bernard J David on Dvorak’s Inside Track to the Mac back in 1991. Bernard hired me, after his agent suggested me, to write one chapter of the book. They liked what I turned in so much that they hired me for another three chapters. (You can read about this in a post titled “Freebies” on this site. I highly recommend reading this if you’re starting out as a writer and hope to make a living at it.)

Much later in my career, I ghostwrote a chapter or two for someone else’s book — was it the Macintosh Bible? I can’t even remember. In that case, I had expertise that the author lacked and the writing experience to get the job done right and on time.

Why Be a Ghostwriter?

Would I ghostwrite something today? Well, that depends. In my mind, there are only two reasons to ghostwrite a book:

  • Money. Plain and simple. That’s the only reason I did that second ghostwriting job. They paid me. And it wasn’t $5. (I honestly can’t remember what it was, but at that point in my career, it must have been at least $2,000.) Even that first ghostwriting gig, when I was a complete unproven unknown writer, paid me $500 per chapter — that’s $2,000 total.
  • Relationship building. This one is a little grayer. Suppose a publisher/editor contacted me about ghostwriting a book for a famous pilot. Suppose they were willing to pay (more than $5) but it wasn’t quite enough to get me to drop what I was doing and get to work. But suppose that this publisher/editor was building a book series by a bunch of pilots and the series was already popular. There was the definite possibility that ghostwriting this book could lead to more offers. And, if they liked my work enough, I’d be able to negotiate higher fees or other benefits — like an “as told to” byline on the cover — or even royalties on future work. If I thought this offer was a relationship builder that could lead to more or better opportunities in the future, I might go for it. It’s relationship building that I really got from those first four book chapters for Bernard. I co-authored my first book with him and that launched a solo writing career that spanned 85 books and hundreds of articles in just over 20 years.

At every writing opportunity, every writer should be asking one big question: what’s in it for me?

(Haven’t read my “Freebies” post yet? This is a perfect time to go do that.)

Why is this guy offering to write someone else’s book for $5? I can’t imagine — unless he just doesn’t have any ideas and wants someone to feed them to him?

Otherwise, why wouldn’t he just write his own damn book and self-publish it? Then at least his name would be on the cover and he’d own the copyright. He might even make more than $5.

Writers Write

I’ve been a writer since I was 13 years old and wrote stories and book chapters in spiral ring binders. Back then, I tried entering short story contests and failed miserably, not really knowing how to get started, and honestly, not being a very good writer. (I have those old notebooks to prove it; they make me cringe!) But I wrote anyway because I was a writer and the more I wrote — and read, don’t forget that! — the better I got.

(By the way, I write in this blog because I’m a writer. Real writers write. We can’t help it. I just don’t need to make a living as a writer anymore.)

Meanwhile, my family pounded the idea of having a stable career into my head. Writing was not a stable career — at least not in their minds. Being young and foolishly believing that they knew best, I made a wrong turn into a career in auditing and finance, losing 8 years that I could have spent building a writing career. By the time I became a freelance writer back in 1990, I had a home and financial responsibilities. I had to make a living as a writer. There was no going back.

Could I have made a living as a writer if I didn’t analyze every opportunity I found? Of course not. Instead, I’d be banging away at an office job, writing stories, likely never to be published, on evenings and weekends — as I did during my 8 year wrong turn.

The Take-Away

The takeaway is this: if you want to write, write. If you want to make a living as a writer, make sure you don’t sell yourself short. Take only the jobs that will move your career forward — or at least help pay the bills.

A Profile Trifecta

Another 45 minutes of fame?

In 1968, Andy Warhol shared the immortal words, “in the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes.” If that’s true, I got another 45 minutes worth this past week when interviews with me were published in various formats in three publications.

The Saturday Evening Post

The first was, of all things, the Saturday Evening Post. Yeah — the same publication famous for Normal Rockwell Americana paintings on its cover. I honestly admit that I didn’t know it was still being published. But it is and one of my former editors at Peachpit (I think) and InformIT now works there. She passed my name along to a writer, Nick Gilmore, who does their “Second Chapters” column about career changes. I think he was surprised to hear that I had not one but two career changes. He focused on the second change in his piece about me. You can read it for yourself here: “Second Chances: Write or Flight.” I think he did an amazing job, cramming a ton of information into fewer than 1200 words.

Saturday Evening Post Article

The Mac Observer

A little after my interview with the Saturday Evening Post, I was approached about doing a podcast episode for The Mac Observer‘s “Background Mode” podcast. Podcaster John Martellaro, who is also a pilot, flattered me a bit by calling me a “legendary” Mac author. Our talk was remarkably similar to the Post interview, touching on many of the same topics. Oddly, it was released the same day as the Post piece. You can listen to it here: “TMO Background Mode Interview with Author, Photographer and Pilot Maria Langer.”

Background Mode

The Good Life

Good Life Cover
If I’d known that a photo of me would appear on the front cover of the magazine, I probably would have put on some makeup and brushed my hair.

For a short while last year, I belonged to a writer’s group here in the Wenatchee area. That’s where I met Jaana Hatton, a world traveler (literally) who had settled in the Wenatchee area and was building a career as a writer. She asked if she could interview me about my beekeeping activities for The Good Life, a local monthly magazine. I said yes, mostly to help her out. She came out for a chat one day and a magazine photographer came a few weeks later for photos and a video. Never in my wildest dreams did I think a photo of me, looking typically disheveled, would appear on the front cover of the magazine’s August issue! If you’re interested, you can read the article here: “BEE RANCHER: Keeping the buzz alive.”

People Find Me

What amazes me most about all three of these profile pieces is that in each case it was the author/podcaster who tracked me down for an interview. I wasn’t looking for publicity — the days of me wanting or needing that are long gone. But apparently people think I’m interesting, which is rather amusing to me. I’m just moving forward with my life. There’s nothing special about me — anyone who is driven to make the most of their life can be interview-worthy, too.

On Being Elite

A few thoughts about the use of “elite” as some sort of slur.

The other day, I was accused by a troll on Twitter of being part of the “rich elite” because I owned a helicopter and went south for the winter.

I think I was supposed to be insulted. I wasn’t. You see, I’m not ashamed of what I am or what I do with my time and money. I earned all of my possessions and my lifestyle.

Don’t believe me? Read on.

The only things I had going for me at birth was that I was born in the United States, I was white, and I had a good brain.

My parents were not rich. In fact, when my father left us when I was about 13, my mother very nearly applied for welfare. Our financial situation qualified me for free lunch at school; every day, I’d go to the school office and retrieve a small kraft envelope with 65¢ in it — government money to pay for my cafeteria lunch. I’d spend as little as possible and save the rest. When I got home from school, I babysat my younger sister and baby brother while my mother worked as a waitress to put food — mostly hot dogs and pasta — on the table. My grandmother would bring us groceries once in a while and slip my mother a $20 bill to help out.

I started working at age 13 when I got a paper route. I delivered the Bergen Evening Record after school on weekdays and the Sunday Record before 7 AM on Sundays. There were 54 homes on my route, which I had to walk, and I netted 20¢ plus tips per week per house. In those days — the mid 1970s — 10¢ was considered a generous tip; many of the homes did not tip at all. Collection day — Wednesday — was unusually long since I had to stop at every single house to try to get paid. One Wednesday in September, which coincided with the first day of school, my mother used my collection money to pay for our school supplies because she wouldn’t have money until payday.

Our financial situation qualified me for a summer job working at the high school. With three other girls, all a year or two older than me, I scraped rust off an old chain link fence that ran between the school property and the railroad tracks. The wire brushes we used had to be replaced every few days because the bristles would fall out. The gloves they gave us did little to prevent huge blisters on our hands. When it rained, they let us into the school where we went from classroom to classroom, washing the venetian blinds. The wash water had to be changed every 30 minutes or so because the blinds had likely never been cleaned before.

My mother remarried and I won’t deny that my blue collar stepfather brought us quite a few steps up from our dismal financial situation. I got a chance to see some of the better things in life. He took us to museums and restaurants with real cloth napkins. I stayed in a hotel for the first time in my life at age 15. I was even able to accompany my grandparents on a trip to visit family in Germany. And, for the first time, I started thinking about college.

College was possible with two academic achievement scholarships, financial contributions from my parents (they each paid 1/3 of the net after scholarships were deducted from tuition), and a school loan. And work. At one point I held down three part-time jobs while handling a 15 or 18 credit load. I worked hard to maintain good grades and got a BBA with highest honors in Accounting in four years. I was the first person in my family to attend and graduate from college.

Within two weeks of graduation, I got my own apartment. I paid rent and utilities and furnished it with my own money. It was in a rough neighborhood and a few of my friends didn’t like to come visit. My mother bought me a sewing machine as a graduation gift and I used it to make about half the clothes that I wore to work, so I could look nice without spending a fortune.

I started my first job right away: an auditor with the New York City Comptrollers Office. In just two years, at the age of 22, I became the youngest person promoted to Field Audit Supervisor.  After five years with the city, I started a new job with ADP in New Jersey.  I did my time in the Audit Department before becoming a Senior Financial Analyst working on special projects directly for the CFO.

By the age of 29, I was earning more money per year than my father ever had. But that didn’t stop me from leaving my job to pursue an uncertain career that was more in line with what I wanted to do for a living: write. I built a career as a tech writer and computer trainer from the ground up. I was completely self-taught and worked without an agent. I wrote books and led hands-on computer training classes all over the country. I quickly learned that I needed to write a lot of books to make a living so that’s what I did. When I was on a book project, I’d work 10-12 hour days, 7 days a week. I wrote books and articles and eventually authored video training courses. I was very good at what I did and it paid off: within 10 years, I had two bestsellers; their periodic revisions were bestsellers, too.

By the age of 40, I was earning more money than I’d ever thought possible, but instead of pissing it away on a bigger house or fancier car, I socked money away for retirement and invested in rental properties: a condo, a house, a small apartment building. And between book projects, I learned how to fly helicopters.

And yes, I did buy a helicopter. Why not? It was my money that I had earned through my efforts. I had covered all my other financial responsibilities and set aside enough money for my future. Why shouldn’t I invest in something that would make me happy?

I flew as often as I could and started a helicopter business to help bring in some extra revenue to cover costs. I managed the fuel concession at the local airport. I became an aeronautical chart dealer and ran a small pilot shop. I worked for a season as a pilot for a Grand Canyon tour operator. I sold that first helicopter and bought a slightly larger one. I jumped through hoops with the FAA to get required certifications for charter work. I created advertising material, maintained a website, handled social networking needs, did all the accounting, met with clients, did local and long distance flights. I networked with other pilots about other flying jobs.

All while still writing up to 10 books and dozens of articles a year for my publishers.

When tech publishing went into decline, I ramped up my flying work. I got contracts to do agricultural work in Washington state during the summer. I’d live in a trailer, working on various book projects, waiting for a call to fly, for two to three months every summer. Over the years, I built up the number of contracts I had until I couldn’t handle them all alone; then I brought in other pilots with helicopters to help me, managing work and billing for as many as four subcontactors every season.

I was 52 when the man I’d spent more than half my life with decided he needed a mommy to hold his hand while he watched TV every night more than a life partner to actually enjoy life with. He tried to take half of everything I owned in our divorce, but I fought back to keep what was rightfully mine, what I’d earned through my own efforts while he floundered, failing at one job after another. I went into the fight with a war chest of cash I’d saved while he was pissing his money away on a plane he never flew, a Mercedes he didn’t need, and a condo that was sucking him dry financially. His greed, harassment, and courtroom lies didn’t score many points with the judge and he wound up paying me and his lawyers far more than he could have spent if he’d settled for my offer. His downfall is a great example of someone getting what he deserves.

I’ve spent the last four and a half years rebuilding my life in a new place, working hard to build my flying business, expanding into other work in California and now possibly Arizona. I don’t write much anymore, but I make a good living with the helicopter the Twitter troll I mentioned at the top of this piece criticized. I’ve learned how to take my skills and assets and turn them into money. And unlike so many other people, I live within my means. Yes, I go south for the winter, but it’s not as if I’m living it up in some fancy condo or hotel. I’m roughing it in an RV often parked out in the desert. 

It's Mine
Just about everything I own was bought and paid for with money that I earned through my efforts. Why shouldn’t I be proud of that?

I worked hard and smart and I succeeded. Is there any reason I should be ashamed of that?

So yeah, if making a good living and owning a helicopter and wintering in the south makes me part of the “rich elite,” I’m okay with that. I earned it.

And to the people who troll me with their jealousy-driven comments: What’s your excuse for being a loser?