Like most of the really good things in life, ghostwriting came along when I was least expecting it.

A woman who had a large public presence wanted help putting together a very personal article she was writing for a magazine. She was familiar with my writing and asked if I had time to sit down with her and talk about it. I said sure, not knowing that this was the beginning of a new aspect of my career.

Because it appeared so random, it’s interesting that the transition came at such a perfect point.  I’d had decades of training in advertising—which teaches you to write in a thousand different voices for a thousand different brands. Not “just” learning to write in these different ways, but also thinking distinctly for their needs. Who are they talking to? What is unique about their message?

Through my own published books, I learned narrative structures. More importantly, I had come to deeply desire the process of that art. Of finding the problem that appears unique but is actually universal, then over the course of a couple hundred pages, resolving the problem in a way that brings hope to others.

The final piece of training that had me primed were my years in magazine editorial. Helping steer that massive ship brought me up close to my compass as a writer and maker. I became acutely tuned to what was authentic and helpful, and then what was just more of the regurgitated crap in the spin cycle of our world. I learned to sift through ideas and languages that were close, but not quite authentic, to keep reaching for what was true.

That set of skills could easily play into continuing as a professional writer for another twenty years, but there was secret sauce in there. This ingredient is what I now think is necessary for being a great ghostwriter: I wanted to help people.

Maybe it was hitting middle age. Maybe it was the product of being a culture creator for twenty years and wondering about the emptiness of work that disappeared as fast as it appeared. The cause doesn’t matter as much as the result—I had a hunger to use my writing to make other people’s lives better. Being a ghostwriter has given me that. Every six months I am invited to go alongside a person who has a story to tell. Together we go to a deep level of their experience, mine events it would be tough for anyone to sort alone, and then get it all on the page in a way that is transformative for them and for their readers.

When these efforts led to a NYT bestseller it was a great benefit. Not because I think acknowledgement matters above all else, but because this is a business for everyone involved. That particular notation of being a bestseller means you’ve done well in the measure of this business and you’ve reached people. The more people you reach, the more people buy books, the more books get to be made in the future.

So while I will always value the creation of the book as sacred—for some of my clients this is the only book they will do and their one chance to really tell the story of their life—I will also be working around the clock, writing, rewriting, and making every chapter perfect, because we want people to read the story. I’m not just aiming to catch the wave of whatever people happen to be interested in that moment, I want to help cause that wave.

We all know the perils of the crowded marketplace today, but I believe in the power of a really good book, and I always will. It has ended up being a great gift of my writing life that I can spend months walking with people as they discover and harness that power for themselves. If you are interested in working with me on a project, Whitney Gossett at Content Capital manages all my collaboration.