Friday, 15 August 2014

I want to be a Ghostwriter



I want to be a Ghostwriter ©

By Michael Casey

I’ve decided to be a Ghostwriter, it might be easier just to adopt a pen name but I think I’ll go all the way, there has to be a first time for everything. I mean if I am a ghostwriter nobody will know who I am. I can write horrible things about the man in the chip shop, he never gives me enough chips. I can write about that lolly pop lady who lets cars kill me, oh sorry love I did not see you. I wear bright red and I have silver hair.

But that’s more about the joys of having a pen name so you can be truly invisible, and really dig the knife in, all those people you hate, that man at the bus stop, or all those  driver bastards on mobile phones while you cross at the zebra crossings. Not to mention those who overtake a queue of stopped traffic at a zebra which you are crossing, just so they can try and kill me. It’s happened at least 5 times.

Well it’s good to get that out of my system, though I would like to vaporise all those bad drivers in the neighbourhood. I speak as a lifelong pedestrian and non-driver. So what would ghost writing be like? Would you meet lots of interesting people? I did when I was a concierge, would they have lots of good stories to share? And I’d get paid to tell them, for a good fee of course.
How much should you charge? £50 an hour and a minimum fee of £1000 up front, just to get rid of time wasters. How would they communicate their stories to you? One idea would be for them to record them then copy them to a usb stick which they’d post to you, with a cheque. If you like the story then you agree to write it for them. If you don’t then you keep the usb stick, and charge a £100 fee just for evaluation costs. If you like it they have to pay the £1000 up front.

If you google “fees for ghost writing” I’m sure you’ll get much higher costs.  You can also add on a 10% share of any book sale profits, plus if it’s optioned for a film you can ask 25% of film rights. It’s your writing that made the story interesting after all. So much for the theory, but did you know a film script writer gets 5% of the film budget, and a profit share, or so much for the theory.  

As for the writing, the ghost writing itself, it must be a story worth telling, you don’t want to be some sort of glorified copy typist. When I was copy typing my novel to have it on my computer, that was the most boring thing in the world, so instead I rewrote it and it doubled in size, humour and pathos.

So assuming you get a reply to your advert in the Daily Telegraph, it’s not really an advert, you posted a comment in the comment section and hoped somebody noticed. Then you make contact with somebody, or rather they contact you, and you sit there listening to the usb stick story. Every other word is, “you know, or init or erh, or I, I and I” people have to learn how to speak before they can learn how to write. Though I could teach people to Speak as well, see I am doubly gifted.

The trouble is people “think” they can speak, and then they think they can write. The truth is they cannot. To stand up and talk and hold and engage an audience does require training. I learnt to do it properly back in 1998, and the writing took me 1 year of doing it, with 20 years of constant listening to BBC Radio 4  BEFORE I picked up a pen.

I’ve gone sideways, so back to the ghost writing. You get a usb stick and you play it on your hifi, so it doesn’t get a chance of giving your computer a virus. You sit there with a can of Stella Artois in your hand, as you listen. You hear the accent and the tone, some accents are hard to understand, some just hurt your ears, like chalk on a blackboard, though I’m probably the last generation that knows about chalk and blackboards.

If the story is good you’ll put down the can of Stella and listen harder, as you listen your professional ear kicks in. When you watch a film, you enjoy the story and the way it’s acted, and you spot the telegraphed items. At the start is superglue, so that later in the story the superglue returns to save the day.

So the story is good, you just need to take out the cursing, yes it’s needed and it’s the way the story is, but less is more. Some kids think that saying %$£^ is clever, but when repeated 1000 times its just BORING. Same goes for the sex, less is more, if that’s a contradiction in terms. Jackie Collins is Jackie Collins or 50 Shades of Grey. So you listen and you see through to the heart and soul of the story. The teller may not be able to write nor even talk, but the ingredients make a very powerful story.

So you finish listening, you may have another Stella Artois or their new Cidre, then you sit in the chair thinking. Then you go to bed and sleep on it, literally. In the morning you write for an hour or two. You read it back, you’ve taking their story, their life and you’ve made it better, it’s a good piece of writing now.

As I write this I can remember once being asked did I ever write for others, I cannot remember when, that could have been my ghost writing chance. I was asked by a lawyer did I ever teach how to give a talk or was it writing. NOW today if either of those people is reading this I’d like to try both, but they are gone like ships in the night.

So back to the ghost writing, then you have to ring up or email the teller and ask them what they think of your writing. Have you make their life good, do you do justice to their story, to their life. It’s at this  moment you either get £100 for the evaluation, or they send you £1000. You never do a stroke more without payment. I have a friend a translator in Shanghai who was fleeced for a technical translation he had done. There are thieves out there, so trust nobody, this is work, even if it is work you love, you must be paid. And in advance.

Some people can write about anything and anybody, axe murderers and junkies, who don’t use trains but buses, all kinds of stuff. Or the life and times of the village organist. It can be either end of the spectrum. As a ghost writer you could be writing about anything, the guy interviewed on the BBC  claimed he got 3 offers a day. If he’s that lucky he can be choosey, very choosey, it said his books have sold 10,000,000 copies. 

How choosey would you be, would you be like a bar, open long hours to everybody, for everybody. Me, I wouldn’t be like that, I wouldn’t want to put up with an idea or a person for 3 months while I wrote the story. It’s like shop staff they have to put up with the likes of you and me, while they are working. Once outside the shop they can cross over the road to avoid us. So a story is like a uniform that you have to wear at work, you could really hate it. I had to wear a pink tie while I was a  concierge, I hated that tie.

You have to either like or at least tolerate the story and the teller, while you are ghost writing. Then once the work is done their name is on the front of the book, not yours. If you are lucky you may get a tiny credit. That’s why you must have a proper legal contract so that at least you get the money if not the praise for all your hard work.

So I hope all you would be ghost writers, and I include myself, have had food for thought by reading this piece. And as I said before I am available to teach public speaking and as a virgin ghost writer.


Thursday, 14 August 2014

Ghost Writer Available



I just saw this guy being interviewed on "Meet the Author" on the BBC, I forget his name,but he is a Ghost Writer after all. So it got me thinking, perhaps that's what I should be. People may like my style but not the content, so perhaps I should just sell my style. I did actually get a radio station, a hip and trendy one, say "we like your style but not the content" Other Radio stations DO like my stuff, but getting a slot in a format driven Radio World is very hard, but I do keep on trying.



As for the Ghost Writer idea, if anybody out there wants to contact me then just send me an email with "Ghost Writer" in the subject line. Now if you want examples of my writing you can click on www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com  and  there in actual fact you can hear me READ OUT 50 or so examples. If you want to read more then just click http://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC 

 I have 8 books on Amazon. Just look for my face.

I do have an idea for a comic post about wanting to be a Ghost Writer, that'll be called "I want to be a Ghostwriter" So watch out for that.



Sunday, 10 August 2014

We are all related in Paradise



We are all related in Paradise ©
By Michael Casey

Summer is the time for holidays, summer is also the time for delays. My wife and mother in law and our 2 daughters were stuck in Osaka due to the Typoon. Now they are about to land in Shanghai where they’ll finish their holiday. How China Eastern Airlines looks after stranded passengers is another matter, I won’t dwell on it, for now.

As for me I’m home alone in Birmingham so I’ve been using the internet to track the storm and to see how flights are affected. A few messages to the departure lounge and their camp bed made up of seats. I suppose afterwards my daughters will think it’s been a big adventure.

Back here in Birmingham we were awaiting the leftover hurricane Bertha, Big Bertha. My sister is planning to go to Chicago, so that’s to the West while my family is in the East the Far East. How would my sister’s planned trip be affected by the left over storm, she already had to wait a year for this trip.

Then I got thinking about my mother, she used to keep a bottle of Holy Water behind the side door, where the bread bin used to be, next to shoes and a row of coats hanging up, this is 45 years ago now. So if the storm was too much and she was afraid it would damage our roof she’d open the door up and sprinkle Holy Water, commanding the weather to calm down. Yes, Faith of a Child, it was this which I inherited when she died, because I needed it. And I never cried when she died either. My dad, I cried like a puppy dog beaten with an iron bar.

So in Paradise my mother is watching over us and sees the storm, Bertha is bearing down on England, mum’s youngest child’s holiday plans could be delayed. She has to get to Dublin first for the Chicago flight, the weather could delay her. So imagine what my mum does, any mum would do.

Reaching inside her smock, the blue one she always wore around the house, the smock she was wearing the last time I saw her alive, mum brings out a ten gallon container of Holy Water. Freshly filled that morning from the stream that runs through the garden of Eden. Paradise is the garden of Eden, didn’t you all know that. Mum drenches Bertha from on high and says, that’s enough, be still now. As I speak Birmingham has sunshine.

Besides mum a Chinaman appears and knocks her elbow, he apologises, my mum answers in perfect Shanghai dialect. The Chinaman is impressed, how did she manage that? He is speaking in a Kerry accent, a strong one at that. They both look confused, then they smile. God does work in mysterious ways after all.

My daughter is going to Chicago, my daughter is bringing my 2 granddaughters to Shanghai. Mum looks down and smiles. They continue speaking, mum in Shanghai dialect and the Chinaman in a very thick Kerry accent. The Chinaman reveals that his daughter has a Birmingham husband. My mum says she lived in Birmingham. They exchange pleasantries as mum magics up tea and Madeira cake, our Sunday treat when we were small.

It’s then that mum realised they are her granddaughters too, she jumps for joy, she never ever saw them when she was alive, she died too early for it to happen. She has 2 granddaughters, her son got married and had 2 daughters. Why didn’t she know that before? She reaches into her smock and produces 2 ten gallon containers of Holy Water, together they pour them over the Typhoon over Japan.

My dad appears, he’s had his bacon and eggs breakfast, mum shouts excitedly, we have 2 granddaughters, ½ Shanghai granddaughters. I know said dad, I held one in my arms before I came to join you here in the Garden of Eden. Why didn’t you tell me? I forgot.

Paradise is a strange place, it’s like a bouncy castle for kids, everybody is so happy and there is fizzy pop too, and Cadbury’s chocolate everywhere, Cadbury’s Crunchie is everywhere, growing from the trees next to the apples.

So the Chinaman calls all his relatives over, did they know they all have Irish relatives. Mum calls over all the generations of the Kerry family, and did they know they had Chinese family. Everybody is happy, the Chinese all speak with really thick Kerry accents. All the Irish speak Shanghai dialect. Everybody is happy, they have thousands of years of family stories to share. Mum pulls out a 20 gallon container, this time it’s Poteen, another type of holy water.

They all look down, 2 storms have abated, so they can enjoy their drink. What do Chinese/Irish family talk about? They talk about their grandchildren of course, and best of all you can drink as much Poteen as you like and you don’t get drunk, happy yes, drunk no. 

Another day in Paradise.


 a few photos to amuse you.

Wednesday, 6 August 2014

Autism The World needs all kinds of minds

AUGUST 6TH, 2014 18:18

Autism The World needs all kinds of minds

There was an interview on the BBC 5 O’Clock news it was about Autism, the interviewee said just google Temple Grandin
So I did and I was very impressed and touched by the video. I’ll be googleing more now.
But for all readers of this just click the link, it could change your life
http://www.ted.com/talks/temple_grandin_the_world_needs_all_kinds_of_minds

Monday, 4 August 2014

Absence makes the heart grow fonder


Absence makes the Heart Grow Fonder ©

By Michael Casey

I can remember when my mum went back to Ireland for a trip in 1973, I really missed her. She had really missed Ireland and had not been back in ages so she went taking my two sisters and her own sister I seem to remember. The Jesuit priest who married her was disappointed when they arrived  to visit him in Killarney and I was not with them.

I mention this because my 3 girls are off on holiday right now, my wife has not seen her mum for 5 years, so she’s saved up for the trip. Not being a smoker/drinker/gambler does help save the pennies, and having a good travel agent/bucket ticker seller also helps.

I’ve got into the spirit of things by using this Yu Mincho font, it looks really nice, I don’t know how it’ll look when I post this piece though. I’m turning Japanese I really think so, or turning into Totoro in my small daughter’s case. She is mad for all this Totoro, so today she bought a cushion in the shape of Totoro, yesterday she had bought a small toy  Totoro and today the cushion.

I may be back here in Birmingham but I get a status report every afternoon UK time, or night time Japan time. The wonders of technology means I can see my daughter running around holding her new toy, her new joy, her new love. Now that she has a Totoro cushion the little Totoro toy looks like its baby.

So the obvious question is, who out of the two stuffed toys she brought all the way from England is the father. Is it Tony or is it Fudgy? If you remember the piece Stuffing Tony then you’ll know what I’m talking about.

My wife got a bargain a fancy dress for a knockdown price, the last one the market had, it looks very posh like an evening dress maybe. Like a long skirt with a miniskirt on top. You’ll have to ask your wives and daughters to explain, that’s the best explanation I can come up with. I am not a Fashionista, just the token male and English speaker in the home.

So then over the Net I have to give a verdict  on this dress, and do they match the shoes too, see a husband has to work very hard if he has a Shanghai wife.

Then the mother in law walks into shot and I say hello with my usual greeting in Mandarin, I cannot write it here, but it’s the traditional greeting in our Shanghai/Birmingham family.

My other daughter bounces across the screen, a big big smile on her face. The Japanese spot cream really really works, so the trip to Japan has been worth it, just for the spot cream. There is also the matter of the eyebrow clippers too, they really really work. My daughter has been blessed with my eyebrows and derriere, with the clippers she can improve on one aspect.

Her face she cannot change, for me it’s like looking back in time and seeing my own face looking back at me, though obviously she is a female version. For her though the trip has been great. At the weekend they move to China and Shanghai and chez grannie. So they are enjoying all the space in the hotel. Grannie has never been to Japan before either, so 2 Shanghai girls and 2 ½ Shanghai girls are eating everything in sight. Remember Chinese people love food.

So this is how this home alone dad is not totally alone, I keep a fatherly eye on proceedings with the help of technology. Having said that its now 5am in Japan, they are fast asleep, me, I’m a bit peckish, so I make sneak out to the Chinese takeaway.

When in Rome do as the Romans do, or so they say.
 picture is from 9 years ago

New material coming soon so buy a book on Amazon Kindle while you are waiting

Saturday, 2 August 2014

Exploding Eggs and Broken Panda

Exploding Eggs and a Broken Panda ©
By
Michael Casey

As I said yesterday I’m home alone while my girls go off to Shanghai to visit grannie, with a side trip to Japan as well. And yes it’s so quiet here. So how is the home alone dad coping? I’m fine, I’m perfect, it’s not as if I never looked after myself before.

I had bought some extra eggs as my wife believes in going to work on an egg. Then I noticed the best before date, 6th August, or so I thought. I had 27 eggs in the fridge. 27 to 1, when normally it would be 27 to 4. So I improvised and boiled 7 of them. I don’t eat eggs regularly myself, they come and go off my eat list.

Microwaved eggs are a quick and easy meal for hungry daughters, if you can get them to come downstairs from their “penthouse” suite upstairs. Just remember to stir halfway  through, and don’t overcook or like a soufflé they can burst. While the microwave is cooking you can get the toast done, as I tell my daughters cooking is all about finishing at the same time.

So yesterday while they were at Birmingham airport I was hard boiling my 7 eggs. By the time they got to Amsterdam for their connection to Japan I had started on my breakfast of hard boiled eggs in garlic wrap. My daughter popped up on the computer screen, zooming in on her 13 year old spots. Then she asked me, what was I eating? So I showed her my breakfast and she said I was disgusting. All of you with 13 year old daughters will understand, the rest of you will just have to wait for your own girls to get bigger.

And then they were gone. So I finished my breakfast in peace. I still had 3 eggs for today. This morning I shelled the last eggs and put them in the microwave, I even put a plate on top to cover the bowl of eggs, see I’m domesticated. But not domesticated enough, the eggs exploded and blew the lid off the bowl and scattered egg everywhere.
I laughed and started to clean the inside of the microwave out, as we have a galley kitchen I leaned on the sink as I cleaned the microwave out. Only this was a mistake, I leant on the plastic cutlery drainer thing. This sent our Panda flying through the air and onto the floor, the Panda was dead. No not a real panda, but a panda mug, the one I usually use to make scrambled eggs in. So exploding eggs and broken panda.

So much for my intended breakfast, so I had toast and Aldi marmalade instead, and 2 cups of tea. As I ate this, up popped my family, and grannie too, in Osaka at a banquet. My wife’s friend had driven them to the mountains near Kobe and his house. While I had toast, 3 slices, they were having 5 star Japanese/Chinese food. Even the dog, a beautiful Labrador had better food than me. How did I know, they showed me it online. Daughters can be cruel sometimes.

They are 8 hours in front of us there, so while I had my toast my wife had a banquet, she and my 2 daughters and Shanghai grannie who’d popped over to enjoy the fun. They’ve finished teasing me with food now, so they are returning to the hotel, it’s an hour’s drive away.


15 friends and family, one banquet in Osaka/Kobe, dog included, while I have toast in Birmingham. So thank you very much, no seriously, thank you for the most kind hospitality. One bizarre thing though, some of the teenage female guests think  that I am “cool” and good looking, it must be the breadcrumbs covering my face. 


cool and good looking to Japanese eyes
Writing Sumo to mine

Portuguese Translations

Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England read in 167 countries so far https://www.amazon.co.uk/Micha...