From Research to Readability: How Ghostwriters Simplify Complex Ideas
January 31, 2025
In a previous life, I wrote official letters for high-status academics, to be read by government employees. The clients were all scientists at the absolute peak of their careers. World-class researchers. Multiple-patent holders. People with more letters after their names than I have in my name.
To say it was intimidating doesn’t do justice to the experience.
On top of all that, I have no science background, so anything more complicated than ninth grade biology tends to go over my head. (Come to think of it, a lot of ninth grade biology went over my head too…)
Even so, I loved this job. And I was good at it.
How is that?
I saw it as my duty to take these researchers’ work, which was compelling and exciting, not to mention important, and relay it to the everyday reader. I could do that because I was an everyday reader.
I was also, for all intents and purposes, a ghostwriter.
A Ghostwriter?
The letters I was writing were in the voice of recommenders (usually professors, collaborators, or employers), on behalf of our clients (those with the multiple patents and head-spinning PhDs), who needed recommendations to complete their citizenship paperwork.
So—if I did a good job on my end, chances were that the client’s life would be dramatically altered and that his or her long-held goal would be achieved.
No pressure!
I had hardly ever heard the term ghostwriter at this point, and I was never referred to as such, but that’s what I was doing.
With each client, I conducted preliminary work, which helped me understand their objective and the overall tone they were looking for. By the end of this step, I had a feel for the recommender’s voice and style—the way he or she would write. In each case, I drafted my letters in that way, and then faded into the background while the recommender got the glory and the client got the benefit.
The Hardest Part
The most difficult part of this job, without a doubt, was translating the client’s work for a lay audience. How on earth could I talk about quantum rays, magnetic spectroscopy and the process of inserting pharmaceutical aids directly into certain regions of the brain when I didn’t understand any of those things?
How could I dumb the letter down enough so that a regular person (i.e. me) could understand it but keep the language sophisticated enough that a world-renowned astrophysicist (for example) would have written it?
Well, for starters, it took a lot of research. I learned a lot about pharmacokinetics, drug design and delivery, and advancements in chemotherapy, among many other things.
It was also helpful to determine which words were necessary to keep and which ones could be exchanged for more reader-friendly options. For example, pharmacokinetics was a word I’d never heard before starting this job, but as it’s the name for a field of study, I decided it was best to stick to that term. On the other hand, the word anxiogenic (producing anxiety) sounds more complicated than it needs to and could lead to confusion, so I changed it in my letters.
It was always important to “major in the majors.” With such sophisticated language and complex jargon, it would be easy to get lost in the conceptual weeds. So, I asked myself: Is defining this word exactly necessary here? Or can I explain it using a concept that’s close and much easier to understand?
For example, I had a client who discussed a certain minute chemical reaction that was relevant to his work. I found a video of this reaction occurring and realized it reminded me of a tiny volcanic eruption. It was a lot easier to describe it that way than to worry about using all the correct terminology. And it still got the point across.
Why Go to All This Trouble?
In a blog for the Psychology, Psychiatry, and Behavioral Neuroscience Conference, Navarro Virginia explains the importance of translating academic writing for the masses: “By bridging the gap between technical details and clear, engaging language, ghostwriters play a pivotal role in helping researchers convey their findings effectively…This support is invaluable for advancing public understanding…” (Virginia goes on to call the ghostwriters who do this work “facilitators of knowledge,” which I think has a certain magic-elf-in-a-fantasy-series quality to it!)
Imagine a world in which Einstein’s Theory of Relativity was never translated to others (and, therefore, never understood).
We’d have no GPS, no medical imaging technology.
We’d have a much more basic understanding of the fabric of the universe.
We couldn’t grasp electromagnetism.
To any academics reading this: your expertise is needed! Our world runs not on Dunkin, as the commercials claim, but—in large part—on the everyday applications of your insights!
But if no one can understand what you’re talking about, what good will your insights do?
One Last Thing…
In the blog I referenced, Virginia talks specifically about the benefit that ghostwriters bring to the field of neuroscience, but I think the points made there are relevant to any scientific field:
“In a world where scientific literacy is essential, the role of a ghostwriter…is more valuable than ever…Their work ensures that groundbreaking research in neuroscience reaches those who can benefit from it, bridging the gap between intricate scientific knowledge and everyday understanding.”
If you’re an academic reading this, remember that ghostwriters are there to help!
And if you’re a ghostwriter, reach out to members of the academic community. You might be surprised by how much you can learn while helping people like you understand their fields of expertise.
