In early July, a post made the rounds in writers groups online
and caused some consternation. You can read the
original post here.
Most people know by now that professional writers (who
rarely get public credit) often write books authored by people who are not writers.
Thus, such writers are called ghostwriters.
But ghostwriting fiction for rich teens so they can claim
literary novels on their resume? This is a different ballgame. After all, part
of the buzz these mis-credited novels get is because their “authors” (not!) are teens. Think “WOW-only-sixteen-and-already-a-traditionally-published-novelist.”
There is plenty of puffery in the public sphere, so why do I
find this a different order of offense?
Maybe because as one who writes, I know the joy of seeing my
name on a published cover is the least of it. That part lasts but five minutes.
I know the real deep spiritual satisfaction of writing itself, and to think
young persons so completely miss that boat makes me sad.
It isn’t very different from a rich person hiring a
well-coiffed escort and thinking it is the same as real loving companionship with
an equal. The ways of the world are rife with examples of thinking you can buy what
is priceless. But what makes this especially sad is that parents are buying it
for their children.
You have to inhabit real writing, struggle with your story
and come out alive, published or not.
That’s the real deal, kids.
{With a nod to Halloween, round the corner}
