There was an article I saw the other day about a couple of girls from a famous (infamous?) reality show family (yeah, you know who they are) appearing at a local Barnes & Noble to promote their new novel. Intrigued by the concept as I am that the name of the author is ofttimes more important that the content of the book, I took a closer look, and discovered that the reality was more horrifying than my imagination. This was not a mere case of celebutantes taking valuable shelf space for their questionable literary dalliances, this was a case of promoting a novel they didn’t even write.
Now I understand ghostwriting–done it myself. If a celebrity wants to write his memoirs, he hires help (usually but not always acknowledged). Nothing wrong with that, baseball players aren’t typically accomplished writers. But to hire someone to write a novel and then put your name on it and then promote it like it’s something you actually accomplished–that’s beyond horrifying, that’s just sad.
It’s especially sad when you consider that these girls are still teenagers–they have lots of spare time to write a book if they want to. But in a bid, I guess, to save time and avoid rejection, they just skipped the hard part, hired a real writer, and jumped straight to the public adoration. But what does that say about them? What use is that adoration when you haven’t earned it?
These girls grew up rich. The wealth is obvious, but the “grew up” part isn’t. Most novelists have a few clunkers until their belts, but they admit to them as part of the learning process. And even the clunkers are something to be proud of: I finished my first novel in college. When I was done, my roommate (an English major who knew perfectly well that this was no piece of literary immortality) got some friends together and threw me a surprise “You finished your novel!” party. It still ranks as one of the greatest rewards of my writing life. And no, the novel never went anywhere. But I’m proud of it, because as my roommate acknowledged, I wrote it. Every word. I did what so many people think about, and say they’re going to do when they get the time, and so on. I did that thing.
No, I’ve never stood up in a Barnes & Noble and hawked my book. No, I’ve never been on a TV show. But I still think it’s better to fail on your own than to claim success through someone else’s efforts. And I’m proud of that.
Graffiti on the Walls of Time 