Nashville, TN, USA

©2017 by Jen Holloway.

Ghostwriting

Ghostwriting rates vary depending on the size and scope of the project, as well as the amount of research required. Rates for simple projects start at 15¢ per word (USD) and go to 40¢ per word (USD) for more complex projects with heavy research. I have experience in writing from only a story idea, fully fleshed out concept sheets, fiction, non-fiction, and biographies. When conducting interviews for biographical pieces, I have a talent for conveying the voice of the author in the finished work. It is important to me that each piece be of high quality, and a level of detail that allows the reader to suspend disbelief.

 

Ghostwriting

Ghostwriting rates vary depending on the size and scope of the project, as well as the amount of research required. Rates for simple projects start at 15¢ per word (USD) and go to 40¢ per word (USD) for more complex projects with heavy research. I have experience in writing from only a story idea, fully fleshed out concept sheets, fiction, non-fiction, and biographies. When conducting interviews for biographical pieces, I have a talent for conveying the voice of the author in the finished work. It is important to me that each piece be of high quality, and a level of detail that allows the reader to suspend disbelief.

Writing Samples

Please Contact Me for Samples Specific to Your Project Needs

 

Writing Samples

Please Contact Me for Samples Specific to Your Project Needs

Creative Writing Sample

Historical Fiction

Bridget followed the stout and surly woman up the two flights of stairs, her case in tow.  The woman ascended the stairs ahead of the maid, speaking all the while without so much as a glance back to ensure the young woman was listening.  “You shall call me and my husband by our proper names at all times, and our daughters Miss Emma and Miss Lizzie, do you understand?”  The woman continued without pause, “You are a spinster I take it.  We are God fearing people and there will be no men on this property unless employed or invited by my husband or myself, do you understand?  If we find you unscrupulous we will put you out without pay, and you won’t find other work in this town I can assure you.  Here are your quarters.  I expect you in the kitchen in five minutes to prepare dinner.”

Biographical Writing Sample

Work Based on Client Interview

One of the most frightening experiences someone can endure is finding themselves or their loved ones involved in the judicial process and facing criminal charges. As a Deputy Clerk of Court in Charleston, South Carolina, I had the opportunity to witness firsthand our legal system in action. For some, they are thrust into the process when a loved one gets into a legal scrape or finds themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. For others, the legal system is something they regularly navigate as they move through a life riddled with crises. Whether or not you ever have been or plan to be on the wrong side of the law, every citizen should understand due process and the criminal court system as one under which many of our rights are protected and upheld.

Before life took my career down a different path, I fully expected to attend law school and become an attorney. As a young man, I was always interested in the law and the complexities it held. My grandfather was a magistrate in the rural farm community on the outskirts of Charleston where I grew up. Although his duties more closely resembled those of sheriff than judge, he was often called upon to decide local disputes and make judgments as to whether or not to press charges against a particular person and take them to the jail in town. Word would come back to our small community about the fate of these individuals. Sometimes we would see them in a matter of days, but more often than not, we would hear that a sentence had been handed down, and not expect to see them for months until they had finished paying their debt to society.

Creative Writing Sample

Modern Fiction

In Nashville, everyone talks in terms of breaks. Lucky breaks. Big breaks. People waiting for and finally getting a break. Everyone, it seems, has an angle. Waitresses who are really singers. Delivery guys who are really songwriters. Salesmen who are only working at the phone store until their merchandise business gets off the ground. Everyone is always waiting for a break. Everyone except me. I wasn’t waiting for anything when my big break happened. I didn’t even know that’s what it was.

            A little over two years after I started working at the practice, Kara called me into her office. The room was tiny but personal and warm, like Kara herself. She pulled a couple of bottled waters from the mini-fridge beside her desk, handing me one with a subtle grin.

Creative Writing Sample

Romantic Fiction

He guided me around the gate, moving some branches aside with his arm. Beyond the fence was a rough, gravel road. We walked down it perhaps a little more than a quarter of a mile, and he veered off to the right. Following a smaller footpath, we walked a short way until we came to a clearing with a pretty little pond. He nodded his head, “There,” he said, indicating I should spread out the bundle, so I did. He put the little basket down, sitting on the blanket, and took my hand, pulling me down next to him. He opened the basket, producing a small cloth that he unwrapped to reveal some croissants and pastries. A little box held butter, and a small jar of preserves. Next, he produced a small knife, two small plates, and a couple of fabric serviettes. He also retrieved a couple of bottles of water and juice, which I guessed were the purchases from the petrol station. “Well,” he smiled, handing me a plate, “what do you think?” He gestured to the pond, where a small flock of ducks had landed, swimming and quacking back and forth to each other.

Creative Writing Sample

Supernatural Fiction/Sci-Fi

The air was beginning to carry a chill. Elisabeth’s walk to the diner was almost silent in the gathering dusk. Her rubber-soled shoes made no sound save the occasional crumple of a leaf beneath her feet. The walk from her flat to the diner was twelve blocks through an industrial area that many women would not walk through alone. Elisabeth, however, was not like other women. The earbuds she wore blared Beethoven’s 7th symphony, 2nd movement on this particular day, although, on any given day, it might have been jazz, swing or Motown. The sun still peaked between the buildings here and there and cast an amber hue across the brickwork. With the hood pulled close around her face, and her signature big-framed sunglasses, Elisabeth’s fair skin was safe from Helios’ wrath.

The diner was beginning to fill as she donned her apron and stepped behind the counter. The afternoon shift would be on for another couple of hours as the dinner rush subsided. As the day shift workers made their way home and the night shift finished their breakfast on the way to work, the diner emptied until only the cops and the night owls found their way to it. Elisabeth liked to people watch, and write, and this made nighttime her favorite time at the diner. Anri was the overnight cook. He spoke very little English beyond the menu and kept himself busy most of the time. Like Elisabeth, he always brought his laptop to work, but his side hustle of choice was selling refurbished electronics on auction sites. Still, they had become friends over the past couple of years and sometimes hung out after work. He had helped her move a secondhand chair into her flat in the spring. A guy who will come move furniture for you is a friend worth having, indeed.

Creative Writing Sample

Historical Fiction

Bridget followed the stout and surly woman up the two flights of stairs, her case in tow.  The woman ascended the stairs ahead of the maid, speaking all the while without so much as a glance back to ensure the young woman was listening.  “You shall call me and my husband by our proper names at all times, and our daughters Miss Emma and Miss Lizzie, do you understand?”  The woman continued without pause, “You are a spinster I take it.  We are God fearing people and there will be no men on this property unless employed or invited by my husband or myself, do you understand?  If we find you unscrupulous we will put you out without pay, and you won’t find other work in this town I can assure you.  Here are your quarters.  I expect you in the kitchen in five minutes to prepare dinner.”

Biographical Writing Sample

Work Based on Client Interview

One of the most frightening experiences someone can endure is finding themselves or their loved ones involved in the judicial process and facing criminal charges. As a Deputy Clerk of Court in Charleston, South Carolina, I had the opportunity to witness firsthand our legal system in action. For some, they are thrust into the process when a loved one gets into a legal scrape or finds themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. For others, the legal system is something they regularly navigate as they move through a life riddled with crises. Whether or not you ever have been or plan to be on the wrong side of the law, every citizen should understand due process and the criminal court system as one under which many of our rights are protected and upheld.

Before life took my career down a different path, I fully expected to attend law school and become an attorney. As a young man, I was always interested in the law and the complexities it held. My grandfather was a magistrate in the rural farm community on the outskirts of Charleston where I grew up. Although his duties more closely resembled those of sheriff than judge, he was often called upon to decide local disputes and make judgments as to whether or not to press charges against a particular person and take them to the jail in town. Word would come back to our small community about the fate of these individuals. Sometimes we would see them in a matter of days, but more often than not, we would hear that a sentence had been handed down, and not expect to see them for months until they had finished paying their debt to society.

Creative Writing Sample

Modern Fiction

In Nashville, everyone talks in terms of breaks. Lucky breaks. Big breaks. People waiting for and finally getting a break. Everyone, it seems, has an angle. Waitresses who are really singers. Delivery guys who are really songwriters. Salesmen who are only working at the phone store until their merchandise business gets off the ground. Everyone is always waiting for a break. Everyone except me. I wasn’t waiting for anything when my big break happened. I didn’t even know that’s what it was.

            A little over two years after I started working at the practice, Kara called me into her office. The room was tiny but personal and warm, like Kara herself. She pulled a couple of bottled waters from the mini-fridge beside her desk, handing me one with a subtle grin.

Creative Writing Sample

Romantic Fiction

He guided me around the gate, moving some branches aside with his arm. Beyond the fence was a rough, gravel road. We walked down it perhaps a little more than a quarter of a mile, and he veered off to the right. Following a smaller footpath, we walked a short way until we came to a clearing with a pretty little pond. He nodded his head, “There,” he said, indicating I should spread out the bundle, so I did. He put the little basket down, sitting on the blanket, and took my hand, pulling me down next to him. He opened the basket, producing a small cloth that he unwrapped to reveal some croissants and pastries. A little box held butter, and a small jar of preserves. Next, he produced a small knife, two small plates, and a couple of fabric serviettes. He also retrieved a couple of bottles of water and juice, which I guessed were the purchases from the petrol station. “Well,” he smiled, handing me a plate, “what do you think?” He gestured to the pond, where a small flock of ducks had landed, swimming and quacking back and forth to each other.

Creative Writing Sample

Supernatural Fiction/Sci-Fi

The air was beginning to carry a chill. Elisabeth’s walk to the diner was almost silent in the gathering dusk. Her rubber-soled shoes made no sound save the occasional crumple of a leaf beneath her feet. The walk from her flat to the diner was twelve blocks through an industrial area that many women would not walk through alone. Elisabeth, however, was not like other women. The earbuds she wore blared Beethoven’s 7th symphony, 2nd movement on this particular day, although, on any given day, it might have been jazz, swing or Motown. The sun still peaked between the buildings here and there and cast an amber hue across the brickwork. With the hood pulled close around her face, and her signature big-framed sunglasses, Elisabeth’s fair skin was safe from Helios’ wrath.

The diner was beginning to fill as she donned her apron and stepped behind the counter. The afternoon shift would be on for another couple of hours as the dinner rush subsided. As the day shift workers made their way home and the night shift finished their breakfast on the way to work, the diner emptied until only the cops and the night owls found their way to it. Elisabeth liked to people watch, and write, and this made nighttime her favorite time at the diner. Anri was the overnight cook. He spoke very little English beyond the menu and kept himself busy most of the time. Like Elisabeth, he always brought his laptop to work, but his side hustle of choice was selling refurbished electronics on auction sites. Still, they had become friends over the past couple of years and sometimes hung out after work. He had helped her move a secondhand chair into her flat in the spring. A guy who will come move furniture for you is a friend worth having, indeed.