I once had a client who I met at a book fair, where I had a table promoting my ghostwriting services. He came up to me and said, “Oh, I want to write a book—I need to talk to you.” I said, “Great—what do you want to write a book about?” And he said, “I don’t know.”
Now there was a challenge. He just felt that he had a book inside him somewhere, but he’d never written anything, or thought much about what he wanted in his book, until that moment. You meet a lot of “tire-kickers” at book fairs, but this guy was serious. He actually hired me to help him find out what his book was about. I charged him a low consulting fee to spend some hours talking about why he wanted to write a book, what his passions were, who he wanted to reach, and so on, and I recorded the conversation. And eventually a focus for the book did emerge, and he then hired me to ghostwrite it for him.
The book was about psychic hunches and how to follow them through.
Alex Terrgi here. My human says I am “psychic” and have “ESP” because I always know what she is thinking, even before she acts. I know when she thinks she should feed me, and when she decides to take me on a walk, even though she is still sitting in front of that damn computer of hers. I also know when friends or family are coming to visit us, even before their cars come down our street. I go to the front window overlooking our empty street, and I make some noise and wiggle my butt for a few minutes, and that’s how she knows company is on the way.
Well, so what? Of course I know these things. It’s part of being a dog. I guess she’s so impressed because Psychic ESP is not always part of being a human.
Yet again, dogs rule.
My human gets weirded out when I prove to her I am psychic. She will be pecking peacefully away on her computer for a while, and then she’ll realize she needs to get a little exercise because her back and legs feel stiff. As soon as she thinks this I know. I jump off the couch and head into her office, sit in the doorway, and look at her while transmitting this message: “Go to Dog Park.” She looks up and says, “How did you know?” in an irritated tone. She pecks a little more, but her heart’s not in it because I am still sitting in the doorway, still transmitting and receiving. Finally she closes the computer and gets up out of the chair. Then we go to the dog park.
Any human who lives with a dog knows that we are psychic, whether they admit it or not.