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The Day My Words Built a Love Story

 


How My First Ghostwriting Gig Taught Me the Power of Words

I remember in 2018 when I got my first ghostwriting job. It isn’t anything big now, but back then, it was everything. I felt seen. I felt like, ‘finally, my writings would be appreciated and valued’. It was during my high school days when one of my schoolmates asked me to write a story about the love of his life. Very cliché, but not uncommon for teenage lovers.

Chukwuma, his name, wanted to use a romantic, creative style to profess his love and ask Nkem out on a date — and hopefully get her to be his girlfriend. And just like every other cute, romantic supporter out there, I jumped at the offer and promised to deliver my best, which, compared to now, wasn’t much — but it still got the job done.

I spent a whole two weeks with Chukwuma, trying to get every nitty-gritty detail he could tell me: how he met Nkem, what he liked about her at first, the little things he had come to admire about her, why he was choosing her over other girls, what he wanted from her, how he envisioned their relationship, and eventually, what he looked forward to in their future together. It was hard, considering sometimes I got distracted — watching a man talk about the woman he loved and then thinking back to my own life, wondering if anyone would ever love me like that — to the extent of doing something extraordinary just to get me to notice and like them back. But in the end, I got the job done.

I wrote a four-page essay/love letter, carefully crafted with raw emotions. I had put myself in Chukwuma’s shoes and let myself immerse in the pure emotions of love as I poured out my (Chukwuma’s) heart through my pen. It was beautiful. Well, Chukwuma thought it was beautiful — which was why he paid me double and even bought me lunch the next day, after Nkem received the letter she believed he had written for her by himself. She cried while reading it, and without hesitation, hugged him dearly and accepted his proposal. The rest of the class cheered, and I watched from behind with a smile.

Maybe I shouldn’t quit writing, even if it’s not looking like it’ll make me millions or give me the life I dream of. Seeing what a piece of my writing did for Nkem and Chukwuma made me feel alive, valued, and responsible. I created their love. I brought them together. Seven years later, as I write this piece, reminiscing on that memory, I’m still in tears.

I want to create something beautiful again. I want to connect two genuine souls again. But the world isn’t having any of that. It’s a shame I don’t have a copy of that love-essay, but I’m sure I used cute phrases I developed offhand, without AI, and the genuineness of the essay was what made it real.

It’s also a shame to say that Chukwuma and Nkem broke up four years later. It wasn’t my fault this time — they simply couldn’t do the work associated with the word. LOVE isn’t always enough; WORK is required. But that’s not my cup of tea anymore.

The lesson here is that I made them happy when they needed it, and it was worth it — while it lasted.

Writing is beautiful.

It is therapeutic.

It is romance.

It is life.

Have you ever written something for someone else that changed their story? Or had someone write for you?

Tell me what happened — I’d love to read your love (or heartbreak) story.

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