By Jill Amadio
I am currently editing a book for a client. He has written and published two previous books in his series of life as a Liverpool bank robber who manages to escape prison, flee to America, and be hired by top movie stars as a posh English butler.
All well and good and a fascinating in-depth glimpse into not only his own surprising story but also personal, little-known facts about his famous employers. They included Clint Eastwood, Marlon Brando, and others.
Hired as a waiter and swiftly promoted to a butler with forged credentials that led to his being hired on the QE2 liner sailing from Southampton to New York, his career took an unexpected turn when passenger Elizabeth Taylor advised him to pursue a job with Hollywood celebrities.
The book I am editing describes several crimes he committed as a bank robber in England, but also a crime aboard the QE2 cruise liner, in which he stole Queen Elizabeth II’s Jubilee jewelry that was on display in the ship’s shopping arcade.
A monster hurricane hit the liner in the middle of the North Atlantic, tossing the ship around like a toy, causing damage on all decks, and smashing the glass on the cabinet displaying the British royal family’s diamonds. He had planned the theft differently, but this fortunate moment laid the jewels at his feet.
He was not caught and managed to sell the jewels in New York through a friendly fence whom he’d known since childhood in the UK.
Question: Could I be considered an accomplice by editing his book and keeping quiet about its contents before publication?

Surely, a bonanza of a marketing tool?
I certainly came on the scene merely as an editor and proofreader well after the fact. I had nothing to do with the actual theft, fascinated as I am by its surprisingly fortuitous assistance by a perfectly timed hurricane.
In none of the 17 biographies and memoirs I ghostwrote did a client confess to such an incident. I have no idea whether the statute of limitations has run out on this project, but the possibility does give me pause.
Many crooks have written books about their misdeeds. Truman Capote’s “In Cold Blood” chronicles a famous case, especially when he took the side of one of the two criminals, and books by the Mafia come to mind, as well as the many Michael Connelly mysteries derived from real criminal cases in and around Los Angeles.
So, I believe I am safe from prosecution, especially since my name is nowhere on or in the book, which reminded me that my ghostwriting clients rarely added a brief ‘Thank You’ to their Acknowledgements page. I dream of a client adding, “And thanks to Jill Amadio for writing my book for me.”
I am often asked which of my ghostwriting projects was my favorite. Hands down, it was about a 1912 trial of a student expelled from the University of Chicago for accusing her housemates of theft.
All of which brings to mind another pet peeve – that most writers fail to read passages aloud that may be garbled. Recording them on a tape recorder or your cell phone and playing them back can reveal whether they sound normal, forced, or a mess.
For this editing project, I asked the writer to simplify a particular paragraph and read it aloud. It came back worse than ever. Obviously, he had not followed orders! Another client quit halfway through, saying it was “too hard.”
“But I’m doing all the work!” I said. No matter. He still quit.
Happily, I am enjoying this current editing project despite my grumbling. I am learning new facts about how a criminal operates on both sides of the pond, always helpful for one’s own mysteries.
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(photo by Oleg Gapeenko)




















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