The practice of using a ghost writer—or the older, racially charged term 'negro literario'—is ancient, dating back to the 18th century when figures like Pedro Estala wrote for others. While the French use the softer term prête-plume (borrowed pen), the English ghost writer captures the spectral nature of the author who vanishes after filling the page. Today, this practice is often considered a literary sin, enforced by strict confidentiality agreements.
When ghostwriting scandals erupt, such as with the book Sabor a hiel, the consequence is usually brief, often involving the withdrawal of the work. However, some ghostwriters gain credit, turning simulation into collaboration, as seen with President Sánchez and Irene Lozano, or the collaboration between Andre Agassi and J.R. Moehringer.
Behind every great political phrase, there is a necessary, accepted ghost writer.
The political sphere not only forgives but demands ghostwriting; few believe presidents craft their own metaphors. Jon Favreau wrote for Obama, and Fernando Onega for a former Spanish president. The ultimate irony of borrowed essence was demonstrated by the musical duo Milli Vanilli, who won a Grammy for Girl, you know it’s true despite not singing the track themselves.
