My wife and I both have degrees in communications and work in the field full-time (doing book ghostwriting, editing, and coaching). A good day for us is when we understand each other 51% of the time, a feat we last achieved on October 13, 2017.
Communication is hard—even for professionals like us who love learning and sharing people’s stories and passions. And if you’re working with a ghostwriter or editor, you may have encountered this yourself, which is why I wrote this article to help both parties get the most from the process.
“Say, What?” Real-Life Ghostwriting Miscommunications
Working with a client I’ll call Rachel, I fairly quickly crafted 16 chapters of her memoir after our intensive week of interview sessions.
Things went smoothly until Rachel gave me feedback. That’s when we hit a snag. I’ll spare you the details, but trust me when I say our communication breakdown was almost completely her fault. I’m kidding! Our challenge was that neither of us could read the other’s mind.
Here’s a simple example (and yes, Rachel knows I’m writing this blog, and I’ve already told her she inspired it)—
I sent her a chapter that referred to “a kind couple.”
In the comments, Rachel provided the couple’s surname, which I’ll call Smith. Since she shared their surname, I assumed she wanted them named. Why not?
“A kind couple” became “the Smiths.” I sent it back to her.
She had new comments.
“Mr. and Mrs. S visited the orphanage … and then the Ss brought them home. (Like I mentioned, I always take out the full name. S = Smith),” she wrote.
So many questions…
First of all, what?
Second, I had no idea what “like I mentioned” meant. Had she told me this? When?
Regarding “I always take out the full name,” um, why? Witness protection?
So I took out Smith and wrote S. I sent it back to her.
She had a question.
“Are we leaving them the Ss? Or using their names, Smiths?” she wrote back.
I ignored the tingling in my left arm and pain radiating from my jaw, sucked hard on a nitroglycerin tablet, and put the name Smith back in.
This exchange wasn’t an isolated episode. But the source of the confusion stemmed from some episodes of poor communication on both of our parts.
When Rachel made comments, I mistook them for instructions about changes she wished me to make. And many times, she was simply sharing additional insight. An example is when she shared a short anecdote about being the last person to board the plane, passengers applauding, and her bag not making the flight—NONE OF WHICH HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH HER STORY. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why she wanted this added! But she didn’t. She just wanted to share it with me—which is perfectly fine (and maybe even a little heartwarming).
All of this is evidence of why an author and ghostwriter need to follow a code to keep communication clear and productive. For example:
“Please change this highlighted area to say:____ .” That’s unambiguous.
“FYI.” Also, unambiguous.
Following are the most common communication pitfalls I’ve seen or experienced between clients and ghostwriters (or editors)—and their remedies.
Pitfall #1: Being Unclear with Your Intentions
Not to sound cynical (warning: cynicism straight ahead), but if someone can misinterpret your words, they will. If there’s a way for you to misinterpret someone else’s words, you will.
To resolve this with your ghostwriter or editor, always check to ensure your intended message matches what they interpreted from it. Then double-check.
A good ghostwriter needs to do the same—always checking in to clarify intentions. Like when a spouse quickly says something you’ve done is “fine,” that doesn’t necessarily mean, “Everything is going really well; thanks for asking.” It’s important to probe for understanding.
Pitfall #2: Giving Unclear Instructions/Feedback
“Let me know what you think about this.”
I sometimes use this open-ended cue with new clients when sending an early chapter to get their gut-check on the writing. If they come back with comments like, “I don’t care for the font” or they start editing by adding commas and correcting spelling, I know I haven’t yet been specific enough with my instructions.
I now tell my clients that I don’t care about certain things while I’m writing the first draft. What things? Finding the perfect word, spelling, grammar, punctuation. Those are all important eventually, but my focus during the first draft is to establish the bones of the story. So I want to know:
Are major details correct?
Is the timeline accurate?
Do you find the arc and story engaging?
Are you excited to read the next chapter, even though it’s your own story and you know how it ends? (Some clients have told me, “I was so riveted reading it that I forgot it was my story; I need to know what happens next!)
Is the voice close to yours? Not yet perfect; that comes in polishing. But if you as the author have a rich sense of humor, does that come across? Does your personality shine through? Does the writing reflect the way you talk and think—and your values?
Do you have any big-picture ideas (for this section) that I should know that I didn’t already capture?
If I write something foundational to their story and get it wrong or even left of center, I want the author to tell me immediately. I can’t erect a straight, tall tower on a shaky foundation.
But the art of creating a story versus editing one happens in different parts of the brain, which is why they occur in two phases.
Phase one is the ghostwriting, which I love. (I also think I’m good at it, currently listed as the #2 ghostwriter in the United States, but who believes those rankings?😊) My job is like that of a house painter with a roller. I put color on the walls of your story so it takes shape. I see images like videos of the story I’m working on, and I transform them into the most impactful words.
But don’t ask me to do phase two of painting around the doors, windows, baseboards, or ceilings—meaning doing the detail work of copyediting, perfecting prose (through line editing), or proofreading. For that, I partner with my wife, Jocelyn, who excels “in the weeds.” The Chicago Manual of Style is now in its 18th edition, and I believe she has nearly memorized it. (FWIW, she even edited this article.)
When I quote authors with a fee and timeframe required to ghostwrite their book, it includes both phases. I can’t make forward progress in writing a story if I’m continually rewriting every previous chapter until every word is perfect, but that will get done once the full manuscript is drafted. In my phase, I need to know how the overall content is landing for you.
Pitfall #3: Telling Your Ghostwriter Little/Nothing Until the End
This is rare, and when it happens, it’s often linked to assumptions made. But ghostwriters need author feedback on every step of the writing. There’s nothing more disheartening than spending weeks or months on something to finally be told by a client, “It doesn’t work for me.”
Getting and giving feedback is a shared responsibility between the two parties, and ghostwriters can handle directness.
Authors, don’t expect your ghostwriter to know your thoughts. Share them.
And ghostwriters, don’t assume silence means your author is loving your work. Ask them.
As part of your informal working agreement, acknowledge up front that communication can be challenging. Here are some overall strategies to set you up for success:
Discuss how you wish to give and receive feedback and suggestions—including leaning into each person’s preferred learning and processing styles.
Outline early on what will occur during the interviews, the writing, and then the revising process, and make sure both parties know what’s expected of them. If possible, document this process, since it’s especially easy to forget details if this is your first book.
Keep communicating—because the only way for both parties to end up delighted with the outcome is when the final manuscript reflects their best and most collaborative work.
If you’re thinking of using a ghostwriter or editor and wonder how it works, please reach out for a free conversation.
Happy writing,
Scott
