Are you a ghost writer? Am I a ghost writer? What is a ghost writer? I think I am a ghost writer. I wonder if other ghost writers would consider me a ghost writer? Or just a jerk. Who writes.
So, you do not know a lot about what I do. Or probably anything. For a lot of reasons, mostly NDA’s and contracts, I do not talk much about what I do or write. But, I do in fact write words and sentences in specific and creative ways, and people give me checks. In many ways, I am Ronin.
But, I would wager you read or hear something I have written at least once a month, these days probably more. I do not write tweets or facebook posts for people, I do not write blog posts for other people (though if someone asked I would).
At the same time, I am not privvy to the criticism of my work unless it really gets blown to shit. I am a partner in the discussion during creation, depending on the window of time available. After that is done, and done properly, no one should speak to me again until the next time I have to write something.
One of my favorite things is to write things that people say outloud in the form of a monologue or speech. If it is a cool thing, I even get to speak to the person in advance. I have had people ask me about this time, and I say the same thing, I am imagine this person dancing or playing a rhythm instrument. I am almost always just trying to find the rhythm of the speech. I want to give them an oratory beat to move their energy to, and I dig doing it.
I remember finding this in the early 90s in the basment of Mitchell Hall at UW-Milwaukee. I was a one semester film major and struggling beyond struggle. I had my headphones and casette player on, and I was listening to Janes Addiction trying to edit a scene on film. I just kept trying to get the thing to move, the image to move. And eventually I caught on that I was trying to get it to move like it sounded. I am also colorblind, so film sucked.
I eventually left film, but the sound thing stayed. I have always been a writer, journaler, whatever. But, in college I opened that up a lot more, and I started writing abstract stuff, and I was writing the energy or the sound of the UW-Milwaukee Union at class change. I would sit with a legal pad, and a pen, and just sort of start and let it rip through me, that movement and that energy. It was pretty bad writing, but I was just getting loose for the next stuff to learn.
And now, there are two pots that I write stuff to put in. The for money stuff. And the for my sould stuff. My soul stuff, it feels like this.
I want it all to feel this dense. In all the ways the writing feels a way.
But, back to ghost writing. I get lots of stuff on linkedin about how to be a ghost writer. I see it, and I wonder, how that all works today. I could apparently ghost write for rappers, or for tik tok people, or for influencers. Here is the thing, if an influencer called me and asked me for help, I would help them. I like writing. They might have an interesting problem.
But, a lot of my writing comes with a check and an NDA. I can never talk about it, or something. I suppose I do not mind that. I want to tell you all sorts of cool stories about me being awesome, but I can’t. Which sucks. Because lots of people want to post stories about the awesome stuff they have done. I am willing to match my stuff to almost anyones awesome stuff. I am almost cool not being that guy most of the time, though. The Ronin thing.
So, I wonder if I am a ghost writer. I wonder how I would even prove I am a ghost writer.
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So let me tell you a cool story. In the early 90s, a friends band was leaving Texas Hotel Records, and going to move onto the next thing. At the time Madonna had a label at Warner called Maverick. Some how in the mix of Los Angeles someone ran into a Madonna sibling. When I looked just now, there are 8 of them, and to be honest I am not 100 percent sure who it was. When a story has Madonna in it, all the others are a bit blurred in their specifics.
So, my friend was just come through a prolific run of live shows, indie records, quite a bit of name recognition, and someone ran into the Madonna sibling. The sibling somehow arranged a lunch with Madonna and my friend. I got to come along. Now, mind you, we were an alternative nation unit, still in vans, still sleeping on floors occasionally. Not spending money because we believed in financial independence above all else. So, I was in my best roadie gear. Black combat pants CUT (not tore) off and probably hemmed. And my cleanest black tshirt. My main man wore full pants, and a very clean (probably new) white t shirt. And we went to a West Hollywood spot for lunch.
We got their 10 minutes early as one arrives to everything 10 minutes early, or the van leaves without you. And a really amazing host sat us. Then exactly at the appropriate time, a car pulled up and Madonna got out with a giant fellow and her brother. She just shone like the sun. I mean, just blinding.
This was prior to the paparazzi thing like it is now, prior to digital cameras, and it was West Hollywood. I get the sense that while seeing Madonna was cool, it seemed like they had seen her before. I had NOT seen her before, so I had zero cool. I was gone.
So, she sat down, and probably greeted us, but for all I know she might have threated to annex Poland….it was Madonna, and I had no idea what was happening. The Maverick record guy made a pitch, Madonna added things to the pitch, then the pitch was done. And now we were just eating a meal and talking to Madonna and her brother, and some label guy. If I remember anything specifically, Madonna was talking to my main man about working out. She had just hired a trainer and was making a sort of transition to whatever the next phase was. I know we (not me) got asked to be a part of the SEX book. I was totally on board with me being in the SEX book. But, like I said, Madonna could have asked me to take over an African diamond mine and fill it in with Marshmallow Fluff and I would have said yes.
I would have, and still will answer any question Madonna ever asks of me with YES. And then figure it out later.
After we got done eating and talking more, it was time to go. The car arrived for Madonna and the label guy, the Madonna brother got into some sort of Ferrari/Porsche/Benzino, and we got in our Subaru Legacy Station Wagon and headed back to Venice.
It was an amazing meeting. It was an amazing couple of hours. I love pulling out the lessons of that one meal all these years later.
And, we did not go with Maverick. Maverick had a sketchy interaction with our hero HR, and we chose to not go that way. Looking back, probably should have.
I love all your stories from over the years, and you always have something new to share, too. A depth of stories!