Is ghostwriting dishonest and wrong?
- Julie R. Neidlinger
- Aug 20
- 11 min read
Franklin W. Dixon wrote The Hardy Boys books.
Except, he didn’t. Not only did he not write them, but he doesn’t exist.
Franklin W. Dixon is a bunch of people, not one guy, and over the course of many years, different people were tasked with writing the series using that pen name. Dixon was a figment of a publisher’s imagination, built only through the ghosts who wrote the stories and put his name on their work.
Of course, it’s probably not a big deal in terms of the impact such a legal lie might have on a person reading those books because no one was using The Hardy Boys to teach life advice or build a multi-million-dollar platform or ministry.
I mean, I’ve tried, sure. As it turns out, I talk about the Hardy Boys an awful lot. It just doesn’t land in a profitable way when I do.
But I often wonder if the concept of ghostwriting, particularly for self-help books or those that in some way sell the author as an expert, is wrong.
What is ghostwriting? Is ghostwriting wrong?
Ghostwriting is when an author (or authors) writes a book, and someone else puts their name to it. The reader doesn’t know that the person who wrote the book is nowhere to be seen. They’re a ghost.1
This is often used for celebrities who have a story the market is interested in but can't write on their own, or for "thought leaders" (don't get me started on that phrase) who have ideas they think the world needs but don't have the skills to organize or write them. It also happens with people who actually are capable of writing (and some have blogs) but simply do not have the time to bring it all together into a cohesive volume.
When it comes to ghostwriting—which is not the same as hiring an editor or co-author to help clean up your manuscript—there are two areas of concern I’ve always struggled with:
Is ghostwriting ethical and honest, for both the reader and the real writer?
How am I to use the gifts God gave me in writing if there seem to be no other outlets?
Since the years I worked in a startup as a full-time content creator—a phrase that sounds terrible to my ears because at no time was I content—I’ve mostly worked as a ghostwriter, with a few blips of other jobs during or in between. I’ve written thousands of blog posts, e-books, white papers, email and website copy, and more than a dozen books.
Someone else put their name on everything.
For most of it, I don’t care.
With most of my clients, I've worked through various companies (akin to brokers) over the past decade or so, and their policies and my experiences with them have varied. All of those thousands of blog posts and articles and books were like second-cousin ghostwriting. The end client doesn't even know I exist, much less wrote their words.
Before AI started to rule and ruin the internet, blog posts on most websites were simply to catch the attention of search engines and they didn’t always have an author listed on them. I don’t mind my name missing from those posts, frankly, because I just don’t need the world to know I wrote about a bunch of random and dumb topics for whatever blog would pay. Like posts on buying property in Thailand (where I've never been), or on squatty potties (yes, really), or the right way to prepare and construct your backyard playset (as if I'd know). Ebooks and white papers were hooks to build an email list while giving people a free download in return. No one expected hardcore life advice from any of it.
But some of that writing I do care about, and some has caused harm to me. Let me explain.
How ghostwriting can be dangerous.
Some of the books I’ve written are for people involved in the self-help / positive thinking / MLM realm, and while this seems innocuous, it was destructive to me.
We should always be cautious who we allow into our lives, and the for the ghostwriter, that goes even further because it's not just a question of allowing someone into our life, but that we must climb into their mind and make it ours for a while.
The process of ghostwriting.
As a ghostwriter, you have to get into the head of the person you’re pretending to be, writing in a way that sounds not only like their voice but also arranging the chapters and words in a way that seems to be patterned after their thoughts. That may come through reading blog posts, notes, old writing, or, most commonly, listening to audio interviews, which I might play over and over to pick up on words and phrases the client uses so I can put them in the book. I might be told, “Make it sound like so-and-so’s book,” which means I go and find the books and read them to get an idea of what they want.
You get about 100 pounds of content to publish about 10 pounds of book. There’s a lot more input than what makes the book. The end product is thoroughly cleaned and neatly packaged, cohesive, and follows a logical path for the reader.
That extra input is necessary, though, not just because it contains the information you are to relay (more than once, the client had surprisingly little information for me to work with), but because it’s how you get a sense of the person. You start to see patterns in how they might respond or write an idea, what kind of ideas sound like they came from them, or what stories or anecdotes they’d likely use. All of that extra stuff is where you see their personality.
Then the book comes out, and I watch from the rafters as the author hypes it with all kinds of launch events, and the people gather round. I read the Amazon reviews and feel almost disembodied, reading comments of people gushing about how wonderful the person is, how authentic the book is, not knowing the words were mine. It feels particularly weird in the Christian realm, where ghostwriting is now the norm instead of the unusual.2
My assumption, when I am in the bookstore and see the latest book by the famous ministry leader or speaker, is that they didn’t write it. They didn’t write the book or the companion Bible study. They couldn’t possibly. No one can do full-time ministry and travel extensively while also producing several books a year. They are simply letting the ghosts write, and having a team or themselves review them as cleared to put their name on them like a branded stamp of approval (see also: James Patterson).
Sometimes, as in one particular instance for me, that process can be painful.
When ghostwriting can hurt you.
You want to be careful whose world (and even more so, whose head) you live in. They end up living in your own head.
That extra content that you have to steep yourself in, the stuff that doesn’t make it into a book, can be tough to hear or read. It can push all the wounds you've ever had or struggled with, and you're faced with writing the kind of book you'd avoid like the plague for those very reasons.
This occurred with a ghostwriting project I was assigned to.
In writing what I hoped to be the most toned-down and gentlest version that still reflected the client, and still (mostly) allowed me to live with myself knowing I'd tried to reduce the harm the book might do when it landed—well, in that process, I was broken. I listened to derogatory and harsh, un-Christian-like comments made about people like me, both in physical appearance and wealth, as well as about specific people. I didn’t agree with the person’s theology or application of Biblical principles, and knew I couldn’t write it that way and have a clear conscience. I couldn't bring myself to apply the words of Jesus and His life-changing Gospel to inflict such harm.
To write something that would let me live with myself afterwards and still complete excellent work, I had to practically rip my creative guts out and sacrifice them every day. I had to hand over my best writing, my best metaphors, my best anecdotes to a person to claim as their own when I knew I, personally, was a trope they would have used as an example of failure in a book about success.
Hear me: I literally started using my own existence as a defined failure as the foil for understanding how to write this client's version of success.
You don't come out in good shape after such work.
There was real damage after that project, and I was only able to do a few more books after that before I walked away from ghostwriting. I couldn't get past the doubt that the project had amplified in me.
The words that I marinated in for several months still echo in my head like a worm that worked its way into my brain, and I can't get it out. I've had days where I've had to cling to scripture that specifically refutes what I heard, reminding myself that I have value because of Jesus, that I am not worthless because of my worldly, financial, and "health" failures. I still pray that the final version of the book doesn't do too much damage. I rely on God to forgive, and trust that when I prayed that He would give me the right words, He did indeed, and hope that it wasn't changed too much after I handed it over, even though the final product was outside of my control.
So, is ghostwriting dishonest and wrong?
I honestly don't know.
I'm not going to judge anyone doing it.
But we should ask the question, because of what writing, idea preservation, and marketing ultimately mean for the reader.
A person writes to get the ideas out of their head and preserve them for others to read. When I write for myself, I'm expressing the thoughts God is working through in me, and it's a way for me to escape from linear time, both in writing and in how, years later, someone can relive that moment. A ghostwriter functions differently, functioning as a tool for someone who either doesn’t have many ideas, lacks writing skills, or doesn't have the time to write. They may be pursuing something pure, like sharing a great idea, or they may simply be platform building and seeking an earthly empire.
From an industry standpoint, writers as tools are useful to propel the industry machine onward. From an intellectual standpoint, though, there are real questions. The ghostwriter, allowing themselves to be completely immersed in another person’s mind and almost be possessed by them, isn’t the only one who might take a hit. Numerous disastrous artifacts result from this method of treating books not as creative works, but as end products from the outset.
Plagiarism, for example, where ghostwriters and assistants slap together the next money-maker as quickly as possible. You gotta have fresh content on the ministry or speaking circuit, and that means, minimum, one book a year. Gone are the days of the Finding Forrester type of authors who write one book and then live and let live, unburdened by the industry pressing them to churn out more bestsellers.
Another issue is that endorsements don’t matter since a lot of people don’t read the books they “endorse.”3 All the typical selling hints—the author, the synopsis, the famous people who swear by their endorsement—are meaningless.
I could write endless paragraphs about what AI is doing, not just for ghostwriting, but in the writing and publishing industry in general. I’ll save that for another day, because that’s a whole other level of scandal and human mental atrophy.
In 2002, Randy Alcorn referred to ghostwriting as the scandal of evangelical dishonesty. Eighteen years later, he revisited the topic and pondered if it matters who actually wrote a book. He is one of a few authors who actually write their own material (and he is an excellent author).
Alcorn and I have differing theologies (I am not a Calvinist, for starters), but I have keen respect for him. If you know his story of what standing against abortion literally cost him, and that he has given away nearly $9 million in book royalties to keep it from being garnished and go towards abortion, you know he is writing his books not for money but for the Kingdom. Regardless of your politics or beliefs, that's a rare level of ethics in a world where the money grab is king. For Alcorn, having his name on the book isn’t a matter of pride for the bank account, but a matter of honesty.
I say this because my (and other ghostwriters’) reasons for doing this work generally involve having to make a living. Amazing, unheard-of authors are out there working, but their words are never read unless someone famous (or at least some kind of influencer with a platform) claims their work and puts their name on it.
There are more nuances to the argument than just that, and as always, I’m going to put the caveat out there that if God has told someone it is okay for them to ghostwrite, I certainly don’t override that.
Because I was them, and I get it.
It is possible I will do it again someday, though with more caution. I have the gift of writing, and though I’m not particularly spectacular, I do want to use it. If I can help someone with good ideas that could help people get the word out, it’s hard not to be pragmatic.
The parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30) has haunted me my whole life, turning me into someone driven to say yes to everything and constantly striving to use the talents people keep telling me “God has blessed me with,” even when I’m not always sure I should. I'm certain that wasn't Jesus' intention with the parable, so I have work to do there.
Mostly, though, in our current cultural climate of influencers and everyone after the money grab, it feels like I’m helping someone further their bank accounts and their dreams at the continual slow death of my own. No one wants to be a tool.
When people asked me what I was doing, and I explained it, they were shocked.
"You mean people don't write their own books?" they'd ask when I explained what ghostwriting was.
"In the non-fiction world, not always. Probably mostly not always, to be honest."
I want readers to understand what is going on, confront my own questions about it, and consider the complex realities about what it means to use God's gifts in a larger market-driven world than the immediate one around you.
I am uneasy about this.
I’m telling you that.
It wasn’t always so, but after the book that broke me, I had to wonder if I helped the world or hurt it with what I did. And even more, there’s the question of honesty that Alcorn wrestled with, a question I can’t get away from.
Perhaps, like Alcorn, some of us have a finely tuned sense of right and wrong, not because we are “better” but because that is how God made us. Maybe being a humble "failure" helps in sensing such things, I don't know. The personal convictions that the Holy Spirit works in us are highly sensitive for our own good because of our personalities, our strengths, our weaknesses, and our situations.4
When the gift you have isn’t finding its own footing, though, it’s hard to turn down a paying gig.
1 Some authors include the ghostwriter/helper writer in smaller font, often under the famous person’s name. So it might be “By John Smith” and “With Jane Doe” under it. That feels a bit closer to okay.
2 In 2000, an article in the Washington Times suggested that 85% of Billy Graham’s books were ghostwritten, making the point that while ghostwriting has been common in the secular world (JFK won a Pulizter for a book he didn’t write), it initially wasn’t as easily accepted in the Christian world. By now, in my opinion, it has been completely embraced. The trend was there, and as Edward E. Plowman noted in a 1993 World Magazine article, Christian publishers want the names of celebrities on their books, so the ghosts grind away. No one (and believe me, that’s not really hyperbole) wants to buy a book by Julie R. Neidlinger. But readers will buy a book by a famous ministry leader, and publishers will make more money because they have the ministry platform to hype it. Mix in the reality that many pastors don’t write their own sermons, and you understand the deep hole Alcorn was concerned about.
The publishing industry is ugly, but the Christian publishing industry sometimes feels worse because we are doing things under the name of Jesus Christ.
3 I wish we’d all be more honest about everything. Why would you put your name to something you haven’t even read?! What if the book causes damage in someone’s life? You are responsible before God if your endorsement made someone believe it to be safe.
4 My systematic theology professor in my first year of college taught us about three convictions: biblical, cultural, and personal. I explain that in detail here. Understanding this has been extremely helpful my entire life.
