Fish Market Drifter

“If you don’t write your own story, somebody else will write it for you.”

“Just be yourself.  No need for pretense.  Write your own story.  If they write your story, will it be about them or you?  Be yourself and your story will be about you,” said the fish market  drifter. “Who are you?  You seem to be a very wise man.  How did you know that I wanted to write a story, one about me,” said the somewhat startled, surprised young man. “I know a lot about life.  Been there, done that.  I know a lot about writing, that’s what I do.  I’m a ghostwriter.” “Are you a ghost?  What is a ghostwriter?”

“A ghostwriter?  Let’s see.  Someone hidden, not visible, not known, writing a story for you. Why do you ask such a question young man?” “I have a draft of a story I have written and I think it isn’t very good.  I don’t write very well.  I need someone to polish it up.  Make it a worthwhile read.  It needs to be inviting.  Like the neon sign behind you,” said young Mark. “Your name, bright young man?” “I’m Mark.  Mark Twain.” “Mark Twain?  Do you know who you are?  Your style of writing was a new genre of literature.  A little rough around the edges, but your books were, and still are, some of the most read books to this day,” said the ghostwriter beneath the neon light.

“How do you know that about me?  I never knew it.  I want to write an engaging and provocative story.  One that makes people think.  Imaginative and adventurous.  A ghostwriter, I hear, can bring a story to life.  A ghost never reveals himself.  Remains anonymous.  One told me on the telephone that she could write me a story that will shine. As bright as that neon light behind you.  You see it?” “Yes, I see it.  It’s bright and sends a message that there is something of value in there. ‘We have crabs’ must be in demand here.  You know this is a fish market?  People come here for the best and select.  You already have that gift with your writing.  Thought you ought to know,” said the gravely voiced old man. “I really do?  I already have what I need to write my story?” said young Mark, and said, “I’m only a diamond in the rough.” “That’s what makes your writing so special.”

“How do you know me?” “All ghostwriters know about you.  They try to copy your style, but have never been able to do it.  Who are you and where do you come from?” “Maybe  I’m someone from your past.  Maybe you.”

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