Theater, Ghostwriting, and Me

“5% of ghostwriting is method acting.” - Jon Sternfeld

I was recently listening to the As Told To Podcast, hanging on to every word from the author. I was particularly captivated by this episode because it was focused on the work of ghostwriter Jon Sternfeld in collaboration with the late Michael K. Williams on Scenes From My Life. And then it happened, Jon Sternfeld spoke my truth: “5% of ghostwriting is method acting.” I immediately felt seen and understood. Earlier this year I sat down with a branding strategist to work on my personal brand as a ghostwriter. One of her questions during our sessions was honing in on what made me unique in my approach to ghostwriting. I proudly stated that my background went beyond writing, I was a performer at heart. I’d been performing publicly since the age of 3 or 4. I attended a performing arts high school. In fact, I hold a bachelor’s degree in theater! But how was I to convey the relatedness in layman's terms? I needed to connect the dots.

Evelyn Danielle, as Sleeping Beauty and Live Performer, Circa the 1980s

Character study and development were a big part of my training. In order to convincingly portray a character you had to become the character. The emotions of characters would compel me to write and portray them with sincerity. As a child I used the exploration of character to escape my own realities. I wanted to feel something different than what I was living. I wanted to make my audiences feel something and connect with the works that I shared.  This approach has become one of my superpowers in my approach to ghostwriting and collaborative authorship. I dig into the mind of the author. How do they think? How do they feel? How do these thoughts and feelings influence their words and actions? I write from that place of truth and authenticity. I read the words I write for them aloud. Does this sound true to them? True to the emotional experience driving these words? The beauty and magic happens when an author I’m working with cannot see where their words end and mine begin. 

In a way ghostwriting has become an extension of performance for me. I disappear so that the character can emerge. I get emotionally charged (and sometimes triggered) when writing in the voice of someone else. Yes, sometimes it’s hard to come out of the space. But it doesn’t leave me despondent. Instead, each time I work with someone I often hold a piece of their perspective when looking at life moving forward. Writing as/for others extends my compassion for humanity. And this comes because of my commitment to character truth. 

I used to feel as though I had student loans for nothing. As if my choice to pursue a humanities degree was as frivolous as some people implied. Now I understand that I’m using that theater degree to serve the broader mission of storytelling.  And it serves me and my clients so well.