An early book of mine was the memoir of an Afghan politician.
His English wasn’t up to a long interview, so his wife translated for us, every question and every answer, through a full day of sessions before he left.
I treat distance and a language gap as logistics problems. I’d take either one over a client who won’t pick up the phone.
I’ve done a lot of this.
For years I wrote LinkedIn profiles, and I was on Zoom with clients all over the world: Singapore, Australia, Canada, Mexico and countries across the EU. For that work, a client outside the United States was completely normal. I’ve had several Australian clients, and I have a book client in Australia coming up right now.
Plenty of my clients live nowhere near Safety Harbor, and we do the whole book by phone or Zoom. The ones who live close meet me for lunch first, and after that we work in the meeting room at the Safety Harbor library. Both routes produce the same book. What decides whether a remote project works is whether the two of you set it up properly before the first interview, and whether you keep showing up once it starts.
Before 2020, hiring a writer you’d never met in person struck plenty of people as odd. Then the pandemic shoved the whole world onto video calls in a matter of weeks, and grandparents who’d never opened a laptop were suddenly running family reunions on Zoom. Doctors saw patients through screens. Courts held hearings that way. By the time things settled, doing serious, private work with somebody in another city had stopped being strange, and odds are you did some of it yourself.
That’s a bigger deal than it sounds, because a book is only as good as the fit between the author and the writer. Limit yourself to the ghostwriters within driving distance and you’re choosing from a handful of people, some of whom have never written a book like yours. Open the search up to the phone and the whole field is available. Unfortunately, so are the scammers, and they love a client who never expects to see a face.
Can I work with a ghostwriter entirely over Zoom?
Yes. A book gets built out of conversation, and a Zoom call carries your stories and the way you phrase them as well as a table in a restaurant does.
Your voice comes through the microphone. So does the pause before you answer a hard question.
My process runs the same way whether you’re across town or across an ocean. We start with an hour-long kickoff. Then come the interview sessions, and after each one I send you a summary document of what we covered. Chapters arrive one at a time as I write them, so you’re reading your book while we’re still talking about the next part of it.
Zoom also records, and it tells everybody so.
When I hit record, Zoom announces it and asks each person on the call to consent. You’ll hear that announcement at the top of every session with me, and you should expect to hear it from any ghostwriter you hire.
What Zoom doesn’t do well is make people comfortable. A lot of my clients dislike it. They freeze when they see their own face in the corner of the screen, or they spend the first ten minutes fussing with the camera.
If that describes you, say so on the first call. I’ll phone you instead, and nobody’s feelings get hurt.
Is a phone call good enough for a ghostwriting interview?
For many clients a phone call beats Zoom, and I never argue with somebody who prefers it. Take the camera away and people stop performing. You can pace the kitchen or sit out on the porch, and nobody’s watching your face while you work out how to say something painful about your father or your first business.
The phone call gets recorded too, and it goes into the same transcript and the same summary as a video session would.
I use AI every day as a digital assistant for transcripts and summaries. The writing is mine.
You lose one thing on the phone: your writer can’t see your face when a question lands wrong. A good interviewer makes up for it by listening for the long pause and asking whether you want to come back to that subject later. If you do choose video, a few small fixes make a big difference to the recording. My video interviewing tips cover light, sound and where to put the laptop, and none of them cost anything.
Can I hire a ghostwriter who lives in another country?
You can, and the writing itself won’t care where either of you lives. I’ve worked with clients on four continents, and not one of those projects suffered because of the distance. The paperwork is another matter. Four things change when the border sits between you and your writer, and every one of them belongs in the contract before you pay a deposit.
Currency comes first. Agree on which currency the fee is quoted in and who pays the transfer charges, because international wires carry fees on both ends and exchange rates move between the first payment and the last. A project billed monthly or by milestone runs for months, and a ten percent swing in the exchange rate over that stretch changes what you paid.
Second, the contract should say which country’s law applies and where a dispute would be heard. Have a lawyer in your own country read the ownership and copyright clauses before you sign, because a clause that protects you at home can mean nothing across the border.
Then there’s the English itself. American, British and Australian English spell and punctuate differently, and your readers will notice. A ghostwriter needs to write for the market where you’ll sell the book. The last one is harder to see. A writer from another culture needs to understand your audience: the references they’ll catch, the jokes that land, the business habits they take for granted. Ask any overseas candidate who they’ve written for and where those books sold.
How do ghostwriters handle time zone differences with clients?
They pick a window that works for both of you and they stick to it.
Singapore and Australia sit about half a day away from Florida, so somebody’s call lands early in the morning and somebody else’s lands at night. It works fine once it’s on the calendar.
A recurring slot on the same day each week does more for a remote book than any amount of scheduling software. When the time difference is big, one of you takes an early morning and the other takes an evening, and a decent writer offers to take the inconvenient end.
Put the slot in both calendars in both time zones. Check it twice a year, because the United States, Europe and much of the rest of the world change their clocks on different dates, and for a few weeks each spring and fall your usual hour shifts.
Plan for a lag on email. When your afternoon is your writer’s night, every question costs a day, and a project with five unanswered questions stalls for a week.
The summary document after each session carries most of the load between calls. Read it the day it arrives and answer everything in one reply.
The time difference matters far less than your reliability.
Remote projects die the same way local ones do: a client cancels a session, then another, and stops answering. My contract puts a project on hold after 30 days without contact and treats it as abandoned at 60. Under that contract, abandonment means silence by definition, and the client’s time zone has nothing to do with it.
A ghostwriter can work across any ocean you like. What no ghostwriter can work across is silence. – Richard LoweShare on X
Do ghostwriters record Zoom and phone interviews?
A professional ghostwriter records every interview, with your consent. I record every call, and when I meet a client in person I record the session on a tablet. The recordings stay with me for three months after the project ends unless you ask me to delete them sooner or keep them longer.
The recording protects you.
The book gets written from your exact words, and when a question comes up six chapters later about what you said in the second session, the answer sits in the file.
Consent law differs by place. Some U.S. states and a long list of countries require every person on a call to agree before the recording starts. Zoom’s announcement handles that on video. On the phone, the ghostwriter should say out loud that the call is being recorded and wait for your yes before asking the first question.
Ask where the files go, who can hear them, how long they’re kept, and whether anything you say ends up training somebody’s AI. I’ve answered those in detail in what happens to your ghostwriting interview recordings, and a writer who can’t answer them in two minutes hasn’t thought about your privacy at all.
Should I meet my ghostwriter in person at least once?
You don’t have to.
Remote books come out just as well as local ones, and plenty of my clients live too far away to sit in a room with me.
If you live close, meet. Lunch is an easy first step because it’s low stakes and lets you decide whether you like the person before you tell them your life story. After that, a quiet room with a door beats a coffee shop, because background noise wrecks recordings and people don’t talk about their divorce with strangers at the next table.
For a remote project, one in-person day pays for itself when the material is heavy or the client hates screens. A full day together gets through ground that would take four or five calls, the way that long day with the Afghan politician and his wife did. Expect to cover the writer’s travel if you ask for it. If you want a face-to-face meeting and the writer refuses, read what to do when a ghostwriter won’t meet you in person before you sign anything.
Does a ghostwritten book lose anything when the interviews happen remotely?
The book loses nothing you’d notice on the page. The interviews lose a little warmth at the start, and a good writer puts it back on purpose.
In a room, the first five minutes fill themselves with coffee and small talk. On a call, people want to get straight to business, and straight to business is the wrong way to open a session about the year your company nearly went under. Clients cry in interviews all the time. When a subject gets too heavy, I steer us into something easy and unrelated for a while and come back to it later.
Painful material takes several passes over several sessions. That pacing works the same over a phone line as across a table. When I offer to leave a hard subject out, nearly every client insists it goes in.
Distance changes none of that. What it changes is how deliberately the writer has to build trust, so pay attention to whether yours does.
Can a ghostwriter interview me through an interpreter?
Yes, and I’ve done it. Clients with limited English, or no written English, are common in my practice, and the language gap is one of the main reasons people hire me in the first place. You tell the story in the language you think in, and the book comes out in English.
Choose the interpreter carefully. A spouse or grown child costs nothing and already knows the family history. That knowledge helps. The same person will also soften things, skip the embarrassing parts, or add their own version of events without meaning to. A professional interpreter costs money and translates what you said. For a business book the family member is fine. For a memoir with painful chapters, think hard before you let a relative sit between you and your writer.
Budget extra time as well. Every question and every answer gets said twice, so an hour of interpreted interview produces about half the material of an hour in one language. My article on writing your book in English when it’s your second language covers the rest.
What should I ask a remote ghostwriter before signing?
Ask this one first: will we talk on the phone or on Zoom before any money changes hands? I require a live call before any deal, and I treat a writer who’ll only negotiate by email as a scam.
Who takes a deposit for a book from somebody whose voice they’ve never heard? Crooks do.
The fake ghostwriters on freelance platforms hide behind text because a phone call would expose them in five minutes, and the people they rob are first-time authors who didn’t know to ask. My ghostwriting scam article lists the rest of their tricks.
Then ask about the mechanics. Which hours work in both time zones, and who takes the awkward end? How are sessions recorded, where are the files stored, and how long are they kept? Do chapters come one at a time or in one pile at the end? How fast do you want my feedback? What happens if I disappear for a month? Which country’s law governs this contract, and in which currency do I pay?
Listen to how the writer answers. Specific answers mean a process that’s been run before, with remote clients who needed it. Vague ones mean you’re the experiment. My book The Ghostwriting Advantage goes deeper into hiring.
Book the first call on the phone or on Zoom. Pick whichever one you’ll tolerate for an hour, and settle the recording, schedule and payment questions on that call. The Ghostwriting Hub covers the rest of the hiring process, and my ghostwriting services page explains how I run a book with clients wherever they live.
That Afghan politician’s story went through two languages and a wife’s careful translation in one long day. A time zone and a phone line are an easier crossing than that.
