How Much Do Ghostwriting Services Cost?
As Explained by Best Selling Novelist Tom Robbins
If Ghosted Books can’t write it, then it can’t be done.
Writing a book is the most difficult service on Earth. After writing several I can tell you, the ancient fella by the name of Sisyphus with his little boulder and the steep uphill snow-covered mountain had it easy. He never suffered from carpal tunnel, writer’s block, and bleary-eyed computer screens at 3am.
People ask, “how much does it cost to get a ghostwritten book?” My mouth gapes, my lips salivate, and I begin speaking in animalistic growls--are you putting a price on the Panacea of written art; the créme de la créme of imaginative genius; the Holy Grail that will grace the halls of bookshelves round the world and find its way out of dusty attics two hundred years from now with your name on it and hundreds of pages of your wisdom inside of it?
People nod and say “yes,” and even after that sales pitch, they still ask about the price, so I tell them this:
Can you put a price on your first born child’s head? How much would it take for you to pluck a single strand of his golden locks and seal it in an envelope?
How much would you pay for something more than words? Singing crystals that leap off the page and land in the palms of your readers to their delight?
We aren’t talking about a white-paper, or a love poem, this is the cherry on top of the cowgirl, folks.
Consider for a moment all of the horrors of the Modern World right now. We are on the brink of World War III, Kanye West is looking like a viable presidential candidate, there is a global toilet paper shortage, and the Pentagon admitted UFOs are real--a nonfiction book is the only thing left to keep people from piling over the side of a mountain, or spilling off the Golden Gate.
Ghosted Books is more than spinning yarns and sales talk--it’s documenting your children’s , children’s legacy. It’s drill-pressing all of your knowledge and expertise right smack dab in the middle of the ennui, and printing a delectable smorgasbord of wit, humor, knowledge, passion and harmony into the hands of hungry readers, the world over.
In a post WaterGate world where everyone has a shrink, a priest, and a psychiatrist on speed dial, the ghostwritten book is the last remaining form of confidential expression left to man.
The ghostwriter doesn’t push pills down your throat, or tell you to make amends to your mother.
The ghostwriter won’t send you to sensitivity training, or give you a demotion for speaking your mind (no matter how much he feels it is necessary).
The ghostwriter will take your words and tie a big, fat crimson bow around them and shine it up like a glowing birthday cake candle and make your words look as scrumptious as vanilla icing.
Did I mention aliens, Kanye West, and toilet paper shortages already?
Good, because the ghostwritten book is the last hope that we as a collective have.
I traveled across seven continents, boarded ships with rats carrying the Bubonic plague (called coronavirus) and interviewed a canvas of different world leaders including: princesses locked in their parent’s attic, a cabal of billionaire global elites, five Nobel Prize winners, and four professional clowns. All of them admitted two key facts: that these were turbulent times and that they were in fact each penning their own book about it all.
Every single one of them (even the rodeo clowns) told me that they would pay all the money in the world to have a masterpiece of a book drafted for them in their own words.
If it were my business and I were a ghostwriter, I’d ask for their first born child’s head, or a red race car named George, but seeing as how Chet is a much more sensible man than I, I think he’d prefer a check.