The First Meeting: Excerpt from my book, A Friendly Guide to Writing and Ghostwriting
I had to stop going to auditions thinking, “Oh, I hope they like me.” I had to go in thinking I was the answer to their problem.
- - - George Clooney
Every ghostwriting job begins with a “getting to know you” meeting. It’s an audition of sorts, a necessary but nerve wracking experience. I’m no stranger to auditions, having endured epic ones when I was climbing the ranks in the ballet world. The competitive stress of these challenges are dramatically and accurately depicted in the hit Broadway show, A Chorus Line, which is based on an audition for an upcoming Broadway musical. The dancers who show up are desperate to be chosen, striving to do their best, afraid of being rejected, which reminds me of my audition to become a member of the Harkness Ballet in 1965.
I was sixteen when two hundred fifty or so hopefuls and I showed up for the early morning call at the Broadway Theater in Manhattan to demonstrate our skills as we vied for coveted spots in the company. The choreographers, teachers, and artistic director sat in the third row of the orchestra in a darkened theater, with a spotlight aimed onstage, lighting us up and throwing the auditioners into blackness. We couldn't see them at all as we performed in a variety of styles, but we heard them whispering to each other, sizing up our technique, stage presence, bodies, feet, flexibility, versatility and our ability to pick up and recall complex combinations of steps after seeing them once. We didn’t know how long the audition would last or how many of us they wanted.
Disappointed dancers were being eliminated to the right and left of me all day, until at 5 PM, six of us were left standing. “Congratulations,” said the artistic director, walking on stage to shake our hands. “You made it.”
We stood there in amazement, exhausted and relieved it was over, shyly looking at each other as our status with our fellow dancers shifted from competitor to company member.
A ballet audition is a one-way street as you try to stand out and prove your worthiness to a group of people. A first meeting to write a book, another form of audition, stands in stark contrast. It’s a two-way street, in which the potential clients audition you, the ghostwriter/collaborator, while you're secretly auditioning them. In essence, the ghosting has already begun.
Some years back, I met with a well known psychiatrist who held her head in her hands during our first meeting, wallowing in angst, telling me how much she hated writing. She wanted me to work with her but I decided to walk away. Writing for other people is challenging enough without having to tolerate their misery and talk them into working. If they're negative from the get go, if you can already see potential problems, you can be sure things will only get worse.
There is just so much to figure out in a first meeting in a short period of time. You have to discern if the two of you can get along, personality-wise. You have to see whether he or she enjoys the creative process, is amenable to collaborating, has a vision for the book, and is interested in having a productive and enjoyable partnership – all in an hour or less. If you sense that a client will be putting the book last in her busy schedule as she globe trots and takes meetings or works out at the gym whenever she has a spare moment, she probably won't make room in her overbooked life to tell you her stories so you have something to write.
The criteria I use in the initial “getting to know you” meeting, AKA the audition, is generally the same with everyone:
1. I quiet the butterflies in my stomach.
Meeting with a peer is not that difficult since I have very few preconceptions. Meeting with a celebrity is far more complicated. No matter how many times I face a meeting with the VIP of the moment, I have to get over the mystique that precedes him or her in order to have a fruitful conversation. Rumor may have it that she is a joy to be around or a misery to work with, but I have to evaluate that for myself, rumor being the operative word. I need to see her apart from reputations, judgments, and gossip.
I once had a first meeting with a woman who was infamous for having a short temper, but I made sure to arrive at her home without any biases. She greeted me graciously and I quickly discovered that she was not a tyrant or a bully. She lived on tight deadlines, she had a huge career and a family to raise and she had no time for people who sucked up and didn't listen or do what she asked. I made sure to complete our work in a timely fashion and act as casually as I could when we were together. We ended up getting on extremely well and I was able to write a bestselling book for her.
I’ve learned a lot about handling famous people, but it isn't easy to act casually when a legendary rock star is quietly humming a refrain from one of her greatest hits. Or when an award winning athlete strides into a meeting in full basketball gear and offers me his hand which is twice the size of mine. Or when a music composer plays his latest as yet unpublished tracks for me. An executive producer showed me her in-home newsroom with multiple TV screens covering the walls. An Oscar winning movie star invited me into her massive three room closet, almost a big as a house, full of Chanel, Armani, and Prada, equipped with a combination lock.
It’s difficult not to become star struck and stupid under the spell of fame and fortune. It’s heady and exciting, but I talk myself down and find an inner calm so the client and I can make a connection. I need her to see me as a peer, not so much in fame or wealth, but rather in consciousness and presence, so she won't feel like she has the right to boss me around. I need to prop her up, encourage her, and show her my self-confidence, never appearing subservient or filled with adoration. If she senses fear or awe in me, she’ll shut down so I watch for the signs and decide how to best position myself to be seen how I want to be seen.
2. I try to make a good first impression.
A prospective client wants to be heard, acknowledged, and understood. She is about to spill her guts to me about personal things so she needs to feel safe. I let her know that my job as a ghostwriter is not to create a vision for her or urge her to expose things that she wants to keep hidden. Rather, my job is to listen to her vision and help her express it. I need to assure her that unlike press interviews, magazine articles and talk shows, she will not be blindsided.
During that first meeting, I look my client in the eye, and if she does the same with me, that’s a good sign. As the interview progresses, I take note: Does she listen? Does her vision make sense? Does she have one? Is she coherent and direct? Is she forthcoming about her life or will it take urging and cajoling? Can she hold a thought or does she get distracted and ramble away? Will she be willing to take direction? Does she treat me with respect? Does she understand the collaboration process? in other words, does she play well with other children? The writing process will require her to take criticism and direction, a tough thing for celebrities who are used to calling the shots and surrounding themselves with “Yes” people who bow and scrape for approval.
Stay tuned for more “first meeting” examples next week.