Talk about ghost writers, and many people will scratch their heads in wonderment. Eh, who or what’s that? Are they the ones who come up with stories about desolate cottages from which emerge banshee wails, demonic chuckles and the occasional satiated belch? Or, perhaps, they are souls of writers who had perished in their attempt to write the next great novel and return periodically, if posthumously, to continue the good work. All this uncertainty is taking its toll on a noble profession. If a poll were conducted today among young job seekers, ghost writing will not even make it past the qualifying rounds.
Now, as an old hand who has ghost-written enough to populate a cemetery, I think it’s time we told apprentice ghosts what exactly the future holds. You might as well know upfront that you are not going to make a name for yourself doing this. In fact, the opposite will happen. Your name will be erased and a political leader, film star, cricketer or corporate honcho will appear in its place. That’s how the cookie crumbles. After all, ghost writing is impersonation — legally certified and socially sanctified. So what is in it for you? You get the opportunity of doing wonders for your soul.
Ghost writing turns you into a better human being because it makes you embrace anonymity, and that is half the battle won. Listen to religious leaders and they will all urge you to send your ego to the cleaners. For most people, that is a tough ask, but for ghost writers, it’s second nature. You don’t have a name; ergo, you can’t have an ego. Next, it inculcates in you a sense of detachment — exactly what our religious tracts recommend. You have, let us say, written a brilliant book on how to attain peace of mind. It is persuasively phrased and it contains pearls of wisdom drawn from your personal treasure trove. But readers are not going to think about you at all — the only name they are going to read, and the only face they will see is the well-known happiness guru’s. But you are unaffected because you are practising detachment.
Ghost writing aspirants can also consider the fact that conventional forms of writing is a lottery. You may write something that you bet will get people to laugh their heads off, but they remain unmoved. Conversely, you conjure a story so poignant it will wring tears from stone, only to have your readers burst into paroxysms of laughter. Worse, considering the touchy times we live in, it’s possible that whatever you write may trigger an avalanche of criticism and abuse, with accompanying calls for your head. But as a ghost writer, you are immune because you are unknown. Whatever the many-headed public may so or do, the fact remains they can’t roast a ghost.
In jobs such as journalism and advertising, professionals tend to get manic possessive about every word they write, down to the punctuation. Disputes about paternity — “Whose line was it anyway?” — have led to flared tempers and provoked peacefully co-existing colleagues to go for each other’s jugular. Ghost writers face no such perils.
If nothing else, you deserve a medal for midwifing political and social change. Our planet is full of people in high places who are aware of what is wrong with the world and know exactly how to straighten things out. The only problem is that they do not know how to put it in words. And that, dear ghost writer, is where you come in. Think of yourself as the golden bridge between an earth-shaking idea and its universal acceptance.
What do you get in return for all this effort? Well, the rewards are not overwhelming. You will have a roof over your head and you are unlikely to starve. You may even be able to afford an off-season holiday with the family when fares are discounted. But if you ask if you will ever taste fame and opulence, I must be honest. You don’t have a ghost of a chance.
jairam.menon@gmail.com
