| Life of Greta: Chapter 1 | WANTED: Writing and Adventure | | Print | |
| Written by Bethany Hiitola | |||||||||||||||
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Meet Greta. A 30-something single-mom living in Chicago proper, ghostwriting for a man she has never met. She’s stuck in the fashion of the 80s, obsessed with food, Oprah, Do-It-Yourself television, and Internet shopping. Follow her journey as she fumbles through work, motherhood, relationships (or lack-there-of), and tries to move into a more meaningful life. 
At thirty-two, I sit in front of my computer tapping away at the keyboard, writing as a man I have never met -- Robert Clamming, famous author of 20 bestsellers, top of the New York Times list twice in the last 2 years. I am his ghostwriter. At least that is what I tell myself on my good days. The not-so-good days are filled with toddler tantrums, doctor appointments, and scrubbing spilled food from the dining room carpet. But I suppose that’s what happens after a delightful one-night stand with the former first floor flat mate. I take off my glasses and rub my eyes -- stinging from the all-nighter I pulled to finish the current manuscript. Between comforting Owen through night terrors and the bed-wetting incident, I was convinced this would be the first deadline I wouldn’t make. Miraculously, my muse stayed focused, and my son asleep. Clamming has sent a courier to pick the manuscript up this afternoon. I look towards the clock on my nightstand and realize I can barely see it without my glasses. I’m getting old. I reach over my half-finished mocha for my glasses, and scramble over to the bathroom, splash water on my face and head to the clean laundry bin to dig out my nice black sweatpants for visitors. It’s the least I could do for the FedEx man when he arrives today for the package exchange—a monthly package from Clamming for me in exchange for a draft of the manuscript.
I didn’t choose to become a ghostwriter. In fact, I stumbled on it quite by accident. After graduating from college as an English major, a closet wanna-be-novelist, I landed a day job as a technical writer. I’d been working for about 9 months and was going about my daily grind of surfing the Net during lunch and stumbled upon a wanna-be-writers
Wanted: Reliable Ghostwriter. I didn’t foot the bill in experience. I had only written fictional pieces in my personal journal or in Composition and Creative Writing courses. In fact, I’d never even really read anything in adventure fiction either. But, whatever spirits were with me that day- I decided to inquire. I responded: Wanted: Adventure Traveler with StoriesWriter with college degree looking for stories to tell. I can string flawless sentences together and even twist them into an interesting story. I have not published one piece of work but am willing to give you a sample 1000 words if you give me the idea. Clamming must have found it amusing- by that evening I was given the writing prompt: ‘Standing at the peak of Mt. Jiaozi my journey was just beginning…’ and a deadline of 48 hours to complete 1000 words of a fiction piece that would be the start of the next Clamming novel. No monies were to be exchanged for this work- as it was a test of my abilities. I almost quit before I began. I had no idea where Mt. Jiaozi was, nor did I particularly care. But my curiosity got the best of me. And so did a quick Internet search for the Mt. Jiaozi’s Southeast Asia location. I was even resourceful enough to find what kind of scenery I would find from this mountain top view. But then the hard part began- what kind of interesting story can I find in that beginning?
Somehow I eeked out 1000 words of story about a man who had committed adultery and flown to Asia to clear his head before admitting his sins to his clueless wife. The story either was so terrible Clamming felt bad for me, or I’d managed to impress the bastard, because 7 years later, I am still working for a man that I have never met.
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Comments (8)
Petula
said:
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message board. Found an interesting Want Ad:
Subscribe to this comment's feed| His package contain crisp $1 bills... hundreds of them. Greta never knows what the package will hold. Normally her payment comes as checks in the mail, but every month she gets a package and it's always a surprise. Why does a man she's never met feel compelled to surprise her each month. Greta thinks it's puzzling... and titallating. |
Meryl
said:
| Petula, I can't beat that, especially when you use the word, "Titallating". All I know is, there's a hot romance waiting to happen somewhere in this story line and I can't wait to read it. The question is, do Gretta and Clamming carry it out or is it simply a fantasy? |
Susie
said:
| Greta happily greets the FedEx man and smiles as he checks in her manuscript. She agrees when he offers to bring in the unusually large package today. He says, "Your son will love this someday! Wish I had one myself!" Greta smiles and says, "Thanks, you too," as she closes the door, not even realizing he hadn't wished her a nice day as usual. She discovers an actual box seat from the soon-to-be historical Yankee Stadium; it's a tremendous addition for her baseball collection she started for Owen when he was born. She is incredibly excited as she reaches to take it out of the box, but stops short when she realizes that the FedEx man knew what was in the package today! |
Bethany
said:
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I am in serious trouble here... so many choices, which one will will I take? ;-) Soon we will find out... Tuesday to be exact. I better get my writing fingers on! |
Lauren
said:
| Each month, since the odd package exchange began, Greta has received a small, flat package containing a single jigsaw puzzle piece. This piece makes 84 in all. Initially it was the corner pieces. Then came the flat pieces that make up the outside edges. Greta has a long, low table that she has dedicated to the placement of the puzzle pieces. And while Owen loves to push the envelope and see just how much he can get away with, he has never once disturbed the puzzle. What will the puzzle reveal upon completion? |
Bethany
said:
| Lauren, seriously, fabulous trickery. And if Owen behaves that well, I think I'd take him in as my own kid. Ha! ;-) |
Jessica
said:
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The buzzing jarred me out my momentary reminiscence; Owen was napping, and that was not something I was willing to threaten. I dashed to the door and whipped it open. I swear, the poor FedEx man had a look on his face like he thought he'd interrupted a murder, little did he know it would have been his own, had he woken up my child. Regardless, we exchanged our packages as we usually did. I hated this. I felt like a prostitute everytime I opened his packages. Lots of money, photos, and ideas. The money was all for Owen, for his education. Still, for the last seven years, I had been prostituting my skills, my abilities, for a man I had never met, simply because I didn't have the guts to do it on my own. |
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