A ghost in New York
In New York to work my memoir guru mojo for a client with a great story. A lot of writers don't understand how I can devote so much effort to a book for which someone else receives the credit as "author". My objective is to disappear into the voice of this true life but larger than life character, and the ghost gig is an exercise in what matters. Is it possible to cleave unto the joy of telling a story for storytelling's sake? Yes, of course, the money makes it easier. Get real. But there is an enormous joy in this job. And in truth, I get off on being invisible.
A huge perk of the work: I love sharing my life between Houston and New York. It's like being allowed to be a dog person one day and a cat person the next. My first night in Manhattan, I always think of Walt Whitman's "Give Me the Splendid Silent Sun".
Manhattan streets with their powerful throbs,
with beating drums as now,
The endless and noisy chorus,
the rustle and clank of muskets,
(even the sight of the wounded,)
Manhattan crowds, with their turbulent musical chorus!
Manhattan faces and eyes forever for me.