“What is this rubbish? I don’t talk like that! Y’all need to go back and re-write the whole dang thing. Make it sound more like me, or I ain’t gonna pay ye.”
And, so went the opening volley of comments from my newest ghostwriting client after he read my first draft of his book. It was our first time working together and it became immediately apparent that we had a long road ahead of us. Or, as Desi Arnaz once said, I had a “lot of splainin’ to do.”
As a professional ghostwriter, I’m in the enviable position of telling other people’s intimate stories, capturing their thoughts and emotions, digesting and converting them into written dialogue, then wrapping them up in an attractive book with their name blazoned across the cover. How we get there depends on the client, their accessibility, personality and comfort level with new technology.
The Greatest Story Ever Told
Telling someone else’s story usually involves transcribing thousands of scribbled notes illegibly scrawled on scraps of paper retrieved from the back of their sock drawer. Or, they might have been rescued from the inside of matchbook covers and hours of recorded interviews. To the uninitiated, it sounds pretty easy: just write down what your client tells you, correct the grammatical errors and presto! You have a book. But, there’s more to it than that. A Lot more.
Unless you’re standing behind a lectern delivering a meticulously-rehearsed speech in front of congress, the spoken word is riddled with verbal errors, glossed over by sheer volume. It’s spontaneous, loose and usually follows no particular order or direction. It can go up, down, right and to the left. Then it repeats itself, again, and again and again.
The alternative is writing a tsunami of bland, factual information—the type you find in college-level textbooks. Unlike memoirs, textbooks’ intent is to cram as much information as possible into the least amount of space—even though it’s well over 1,000 pages. They’re never meant to capture their readers’ attention. After all, students have to take the course to graduate, so that means bulldozing their way through textbooks like a snowplow caught in a Canadian snowstorm.
While the difference between written and verbal communication might not captivate your discussions at the dinner table, it’s important that both the client and ghostwriter “get on the same page” before they commit to writing a book. One of the best ways to accomplish that is for the ghostwriter to briefly describe their writing approach: to write the story using a well-crafted blend of the client’s speaking voice with sound writing principles designed to captivate the reader, and hopefully sell books.
The Benefits of Verbal Communication
When I tell people what I do for a living, the first thing out their mouth is, “Oh, I can’t write worth a damn. Never could. I don’t know how you do.” But, chances are they do know how to speak. After all, they’ve been doing it since they were toddlers. The problem is, unlike their golf game, they’ve never been particularly interested in improving their style and delivery. As long as they get the general message across, they’re happy.
Writing is hard work. Don’t believe me? Try telling someone how to tie their shoes. Now, try to describe the same thing using the written word. Even those with no writing experience will freely admit that putting thoughts down on paper is not something for the faint of heart. So, they usually stick to what they do best: communicate using the spoken word.
In his 2019 article, “Why Is Writing More Difficult Than Speaking?”, Kenneth Beare wrote:
“Writing in English needs to follow rules of grammar much more closely than in spoken English. For example, if someone says ‘Please borrow me your pen’ in conversation, it’s clear from the context that the speaker intended to say ‘Please lend me your pen’. In written communication, words are even more important because they lack visual context. Especially if you are working in a business setting, making mistakes can cause miscommunication which might lead to problems. In conversation, you can smile and make a good impression. With writing, all you have are your words.”
The benefit of verbal communication is that it gives you an opportunity to emphasize free-form thoughts by adding, “What I meant to say is…” or “The bottom line is…” along with an infinite number of hand gestures, facial expressions, and assorted harumphs, ticks, winks, and spufftss. You don’t get to do that in writing. You have one shot at capturing your reader’s attention and that’s it. There are no do-overs.
When my ghostwriting clients share their amazing stories with me, they anticipate I’ll be using an informal, conversational writing approach that includes disfluencies like “um,” “ah,” and “youbetchya.” But, they’d be wrong. Unless they’re an essential part of the dialogue, I cling to an imaginary centerline: prose that’s attractive to all levels of readers, from people with advanced college degrees to those who have barely finished high school.
Ghostwriters also have to appeal to readers from all geographic regions. While the vast majority of my clients probably understand the meanings of “hitting the nail on the head” and “it takes two to tango,” they might be “left in the dark” by southern idioms like “lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut,” “I’m as busy as a one-legged cat in a sandbox,” and “Grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ a sweet tater,” so I try to avoid them by writing “I’m very depressed,” “I’m extremely busy,” and “I’m ecstatic.” Or, at least something along those lines.
The Challenges of Written Communication
Unless it’s part of creative dialogue, people hold the written word to a much higher standard than verbal communication. 
Imagine you turned to the first page of your Organic Chemistry textbook—the one you were made to buy for $234. It began with, “Well, the thing of it is, there are lots of these little thing-a-mabobs called atoms floating all around doohickies inside your body…” Would you feel ripped off? Probably. On the other hand, consider the way most textbooks read:
“Carbon (from Latin: carbo “coal”) is a chemical element with the symbol C and atomic number 6. It is nonmetallic and tetravalent, making four electrons available to form covalent chemical bonds. It belongs to group 14 of the periodic table.” (source: Wikipedia)
Even though the second example is infinitely more difficult to read, you somehow feel like you’re getting your money’s worth. Now take a look at how someone who has found a way to combine verbal communication with sound writing principles:
“Carbon is an incredible element. Arrange carbon atoms in one way, and they become soft, pliable graphite. Re-jigger the arrangement, and — presto! — the atoms form a diamond, one of the hardest materials in the world. Carbon is also the key ingredient for most life on Earth; the pigment that made the first tattoos; and the basis for technological marvels such as graphene, which is a material stronger than steel and more flexible than rubber.” (source: Livescience Facts About Carbon)
Which would you rather read? While the Livescience article might never become a Hollywood blockbuster, I’d be more willing to hang in there and keep on reading. Who knows? I might even learn something.
Many sesquipedalians think it’s necessary to impress their readers with 25¢ words like “circumlocution,” “anomalistic,” and “saxicolous,” and of course, sesquipedalian. One of my pet peeves is over-utilization of the word utilize. Whatever happened to the good old-fashioned word “use?”
Regardless of where you’re born, verbal speech includes a lot of repetition—especially after a few cocktails. To make a strong point, you move closer to the listener, pounding your pointed index finger into their chest while ramping up the volume—things you can’t do when you write. Instead, writers are left with arguing their point by using strong, descriptive words and proper punctuation.
One of the biggest differences between verbal and written communication is how we constantly adjust our manner and tone to receive the desired feedback we crave. Unlike standup comedians who enjoy immediate feedback from a live, clapping audience, writers have to imagine what sort of responses they’re going to get when the reader digests their work. Where a comedian practices his timing, the writer has to learn how to deliver the same result using commas for pauses, exclamation and question marks to emphasize what they might have done using facial expressions and their hands.
How Readers Read Books
From the moment readers begin a new book, their minds shift into a subliminal mode of evaluation. Is it easy to read, or do they have to struggle with the author’s style? What about word choice? Sentence structure? If the ghostwriter bows down to their client using their true, spoken voice, it can have one of two results: either the reader finds it entertaining and is willing to hang in and struggle with their intended message, or they’re turned off and pitch the book into the closet containing hundreds of others they’ll never get around to reading. They simply give up, because readers don’t want to work; they want to be entertained. Don’t believe me?
Take a look at Shakespeare’s inimitable Hamlet, written somewhere between 1599 and 1602:
“To be, or not to be–that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep–
No more–and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. ‘Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep–
To sleep–perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.”
Now, take a look at an excerpt from Keith Richards’ 2010 best-selling memoir titled “Life,” ghostwritten by James Fox.
“I wasn’t taking the heavy shit at the time; I’d cleaned up for the tour. And I could have just put all of that stuff on the plane. To this day I cannot understand why I bothered to carry all that crap around and take that chance. People had given me all this gear in Memphis and I was loath to give it away, but I still could have put it on the plane and driven clean. Why did I load the car like some pretend dealer? Maybe I woke up too late for the plane. I know I spent a long time opening up the panels, stashing this shit. But peyote is not particularly my line of substances anyway.”
Don’t get me wrong. I love the way both of them were written. Writing them any other way would have been blasphemy and would have totally misrepresented the styles of the authors. But, neither can be categorized as light reading. You have to be committed to get through both of them.
There are ways to combine correct writing style while preserving the color of the experience. One of my favorite examples is the 
late Anthony Bourdain’s 1999 column published in New Yorker Magazine, titled “Don’t Eat Before Reading This:”
“Good food, good eating, is all about blood and organs, cruelty and decay. It’s about sodium-loaded pork fat, stinky triple-cream cheeses, the tender thymus glands and distended livers of young animals. It’s about danger—risking the dark, bacterial forces of beef, chicken, cheese, and shellfish. Your first two hundred and seven Wellfleet oysters may transport you to a state of rapture, but your two hundred and eighth may send you to bed with the sweats, chills, and vomits.”
Unlike most celebrities and famous figures, Bourdain was as good at writing as he was at his day job: the chef de cuisine of a much loved, old-school French brasserie/bistro, where he spent his nights whipping up mushroom strudel and daube of beef. Bourdain was a master wordsmith. No one on earth could have captured the essence of what it’s like to work in a sweltering, chaotic kitchen with twelve other people (most of which couldn’t speak a word of English), spewing out 400 meals a night to demanding, upscale patrons.
The vast majority of memoirs written my ghostwriters use linear narrative. They tell the story from beginning to end, peppering 
it with interesting stories that support their message. For instance, Sheryl Sandberg’s best-selling 2013 book, “Lean In Women, Work, and the Will to Lead ghostwritten by Nell Scovell describes women’s inequality in the workplace using a combination of verbal communication along with grammatically perfect writing:
“In 1947, Anita Summers, the mother of my longtime mentor Larry Summers, was hired as an economist by the Standard Oil Company. When she accepted the job, her new boss said to her, “I am so glad to have you. I figure I am getting the same brains for less money.” Her reaction to this was to feel flattered. It was a huge compliment to be told that she had the same brains as a man. It would have been unthinkable for her to ask for equal compensation.”
In Sandberg’s book, Scovell captures the appeal of a wide audience by clinging to the middle, using entertaining, wonderfully crafted grammar designed to inform and entertain the reader. Did she take many chances? Probably not. But then again, Sandberg wasn’t the type of person you’d likely hear saying something like “He’s so cheap he wouldn’t give a nickel to see Jesus ridin’ a bicycle.”
An Avalanche of Texting Acronyms
No discussion of the written word would be complete without saying at least a few words (or should I say letters) about the impact of texting abbreviations and acronyms on communication. For better or worse, they’re here to stay. They’ve subliminally crept into every aspect of our communication; especially the written word. If you’re over the age of 25, here’s a complete list for reference.
While you’re not likely to hear someone say, “Well, FWIW, my BFF said something that made me LMAO, ROFL.” But, you see it all the time in various forms of written communication—everything from smartphones to college entrance examinations. So much so, that universities have returned to teaching fundamental reading, writing and speaking to incoming freshmen. Eighteen-year-olds have not only forgotten (if they ever really knew) how to write simple essays, but many can’t even participate in simple conversations with other people.
So, how should you write your clients’ memoirs and experiences? It depends on the situation. The important thing is to communicate your intentions and writing style at the beginning of the project; well before you’ve started conducting your in-depth interviews with them. As a ghostwriter, it’s your job to educate your client, so they don’t get their knickers in a knot.
Allen Smith is a syndicated writer and ghostwriter living in Oceanside, California. He is a three-time award winner for America’s Funniest Humor and has published thousands of long and short-form articles in print, on the web and social media.
Smith has been featured on NBC News, ABC’s The View, KYSL Radio, The Hollis Chapman Show, TV8 Vail, and Plum TV16. He has also been published in The Writer Magazine, Funny Times, the Professional Skier, Denver Post, Aspen Times and was a founding writer for Lance Armstrong’s wellness website, LIVESTRONG.COM. Smith was the Gear Editor from 2008-2011 for Onthesnow.com, the most visited winter sports website in the United States.
Smith’s first book, Ski Instructors Confidential: The Stories Ski Instructors Swap Back at the Lodge was published in 2005, is in its second printing and continues to sell around the world in book stores and online. His second book, Watching Grandma Circle the Drain was published in 2011 and has received rave reviews on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Books-a-Million and dozens of independent websites and blogs. He has also contributed to Chicken Soup for the Soul: Runners (2010) and The Gigantic Armchair Reader (2008). His latest book, Monkey in a Pink Canoe was published in April 2014 and earned the Best Humor Award from the Colorado Independent Publishers Association.
