For What It’s Worth

Ami Hendrickson
The MAG Lab
Published in
5 min readAug 29, 2023

Or “Why I Won’t Work for Bagels”

Photo by Fernanda Martinez on Unsplash

My friend “J.” is a widely published writer and fearsome editor. Some years ago, before her confidence in her self-worth matured, she worked with a client who was writing his first book.

The client was wealthy. Accomplished. Respected in his field.

J. was honored to work with him.

When he said he needed an editor, what he really meant was, “I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m flying blind here. I desperately need someone who can guide me from rough draft to publication.”

J. told him she’d be happy to help. She quoted him her (utterly reasonable) hourly rate.

He recoiled as if she had keyed his Bentley.

Then, he pulled out the oldest, dustiest line in the literary world:

“I’ll call you a co-author and, when the book is published, we’ll split the royalties.”

She worked with this man for years, painstakingly teaching him the process for writing his book. They routinely met at a local café and she reviewed his writing, leading him through a full developmental edit, a line edit, and, eventually, a final proof of his manuscript.

Every time they met, he bought her a bagel. With schmear. On days they worked for longer periods of time, he’d buy her soup for lunch.

She was very proud of the book. Still is. But those royalties? Well…

The client decided that traditional publishing “took too long,” so he self-published, printing only a few copies for his friends and family.

In his “Acknowledgements,” he thanks his wife, by name, for introducing him to his wonderful editor, my friend J., whom he does not name.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: she was foolish to work so long without a contract; serves her right for not sticking to her original quote.

J. would wholeheartedly agree with you. She learned her lesson. She doesn’t work for bagels anymore. However, to many ghostwriters, book coaches, and editors, this scenario is depressingly familiar.

Knowing what to charge for their services is difficult for many creatives. Ghostwriters are no exception. We love what we do. We enjoy watching a project bloom into something with the potential to inspire others. Putting a dollar value on that seems so wrong. Right?

Nope.

We ghosts, book coaches, editors, and others have specialized skills that take years to develop.

We know how to write a book and can teach that as a repeatable process to others.

We understand how to structure content in a way that is appealing and logical to readers.

We are familiar with the current market.

We know how to avoid potential pitfalls, how to stay on track to fully develop an idea, how to get out of tight narrative corners, and how to manage a character arc.

We have nearly limitless patience as our authors wrestle with Imposter Syndrome and their Inner Editor.

We know how to write to “The End” and not get waylaid by Blank Page Syndrome.

We want nothing more than to have your book become a bestseller.

We deserve more than bagels.

I have been a freelance writer, ghostwriter, and book coach for more than 20 years — and the sole breadwinner for my family for most of that time. Maybe it’s because I got my start in the wild and wooly world of advertising, but I’ve rarely shied away from the subject of what it will cost to hire me. A girl’s gotta eat!

Have I ever cut my rates or offered discounts?

Yes. Yes I have.

But I will never do so again.

In my experience, the worst clients have always the ones for whom, for one reason or another, I cut my fees. Without exception, those are the clients who routinely canceled at the last minute, who neglected to do their homework, and who wanted to chit-chat instead of getting to work.

Show me a problem client with unrealistic expectations and I will show you someone who is accustomed to getting discounted creative work. In fact, over the years, I have noticed a direct correlation between Those Who Pay and Those Who Take Their Project Seriously.

I’ve never been good at phoning in my work. I’m even worse at convincing myself that a client who pays a lower rate deserves a lower caliber of work. Freebie or full-pay require the same outlay of my time and energy. However, the sordid truth remains: people do not value what has been deliberately discounted.

Ours is a disposable society, populated by people who are comfortable being called “consumers.” We are accustomed to purchasing something ephemeral and then throwing it away.

When a writer deliberately drops what it costs to work with them, then those services are no longer perceived as being premium quality. But nothing involving working with words — from ghostwriting to proofreading — is a bargain basement endeavor.

Over the years, I have discovered that it takes the same amount of energy to find and sign a client at my normal price points as it does to land one at a discount. Discounts invite tire-kickers, looky-loos, and ditherers. They appeal most to people who don’t see enough value in their projects to find a way to pay for them at the regular rates. Beware!

My rates are competitive and allow me to keep the lights on and food on the table.

They are reasonable enough that reasonable people can find a way to work with me and high enough that they will keep at bay potential clients who expect discounts, consider themselves exceptions to monetary rules, and have a tendency to nickel and dime a project to death.

When I quote a rate for my services, that rate includes my experience, my expertise, and the time I expect it to take me to make your project shine.

I don’t care if you’re wealthy and can afford to pay more. I don’t care if you’re poor and can’t afford my services. If you’re rich: good for you, Sparky. Let’s work together. If you’re not rich, I offer a reasonable payment plan that makes working with me feasible for most potential clients. Let’s also work together.

Many, if not most, ghostwriters, collaborators, editors, and other writing pros offer a free initial consultation to see if what the client needs is a good match for the professional’s services.

I can speak only for myself, but when talking to a potential client, my primary concern is whether or not I think I can help them reach their goals. Rarely is money the deciding factor in whether we end up working together.

My rates are based on the work required, regardless of whether a project is for a local individual or a well-connected celebrity. Big fish or little guppy — my time and the expertise required to complete a client’s project are the same.

If this article made you think, or made you realize how much you owe to your ghostwriter, consider subscribing to The MAG Lab for your regular heaping helping of creative inspiration. If you’d like to connect with an expert to discuss your content creation and publishing goals, check out our directory of specialists at mediaalchemyguild.com.

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Ami Hendrickson
The MAG Lab

Editor, ghost & scruffy word herder. Book Coach to writers with something worth saying. Joyously terrible artist. My kingdom for a TARDIS. AmiHendrickson.com