For the Love of the Profession

How does this contraption even work? Where do I press? Maybe here. Okay, so the first voice memo begins… ahem! Hello, hello! Can you hear me? It’s me, O.G. Ghostwriter, yours truly, or should I say yours audibly? Be that as it may, my travelogue continues. I am walking alone somewhere in the Japanese countryside. The air is warm, and it might rain soon. I feel good, but to tell the truth my miserable financial situation makes me feel sick.

I recently, and quite unwillingly, spent time with some new acquaintances, but then they grew tired of me and shoved me out the door. They refused to give me a ride, but they gave me this phone as a gift. So, from now on, I can dictate my notes instead of scribbling them with a pencil stub onto napkins or the hem of my robe.

I have no idea why they decided to give me the phone. Perhaps it was an apology for how poorly they treated me. Surely they didn’t have any ulterior motives… hmm, what does it say on this screen again… “You are sharing your location with others.” I most certainly am NOT sharing anything with anyone, I’m just mumbling to myself. So stop pestering me, you stupid piece of junk!


When I think about “sharing,” I realize that I have no one to call. Not that I’d have anything to say to anyone anyway. Modern phones aren't even used for keeping in touch, but for self-entertainment, doomscrolling, and wasting time! This ghost would never succumb to that, but I must admit, these voice messages I leave for myself are true lyrical gems. What a podcaster the world loses in me!

A few words about me. I know who I am, right? Well, in case I’ve forgotten, here is a brief summary. I am, first and foremost, the Author with a capital A, and I am in Japan by chance and by accident. I should be at home, in my own mansion, in my own study, writing my own novel – but I cannot afford to do so. I need money to get rid of my creditors and to get my former lifelessness back. So, where do I find such riches? Hopefully from Tokyo, and that’s where I’m heading right now.

How have I ended up in this situation, homeless and in exile? Dammit, I was the first author in history to help mediocre writers get their crappy books finished, out of the goodness of my heart and for a suitable fee. Me, the original ghostwriter! I gave my very essence to the profession, and do I get any thanks for it? No, I do not! Did my name make it into the history books? No, it did not! Does anyone even care about my travelogue? No, they do not!

Nowadays, authors are not appreciated, yet more books are constantly being demanded for store shelves and audiobook services. No wages are paid, no grants are granted; the work is expected to be done solely for the love of the profession. You’d have to be quite the idiot to agree to that. Now I’m getting so annoyed that I’ll end this voice memo for now. How do you turn this contraption off? Here? No, maybe here, or maybe he-


…

Next Chapter: Coming soon…

Previous Chapter: Japanese Door Code

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