Does Russell Brand even own a desk? That was my first thought when I heard that the flamboyant stand-up du jour had been paid a reported £500,000 by Hodder & Stoughton to write his sex, drugs and comedy autobiography. Surely he was too busy living his rapscallion life to perch at a table?

The result, My Booky Wook, is out this Thursday, but the question of Russell’s desk ownership became secondary when it leaked out that a journalist, Ben Thompson, had been taken on board as Russell’s ghostwriter. The tone might be distinctively Brand’s but the graft of getting the dates and facts in order will be down to the diligence of Thompson.

Being a ghostwriter is publishing’s dirty little secret and one that has come more into the public eye recently, thanks to Robert Harris’s novel The Ghost, about a journalist writing a former prime minister’s life story. There have always been ghostwriters but right now there are more books ghosted than ever before. It’s a boom industry.

One publishing insider suggests that there are few celebrities who literally write their own autobiographies, maybe less than 20 per cent, but the book world is often reluctant to let readers in on the fact. Thompson, for instance, also worked on Me: Moir, by Vic Reeves, but is obliquely thanked at the back for “editorial supervision”. I left a message for Thompson but he didn’t ring me back; I left a message with Brand’s publishers but they didn’t respond, either.

At this point I should declare an interest. Five years ago I wrote Blitzed!, the autobiography of the new romantic kingpin Steve Strange. Boy George’s first autobiography (mainly by überhack Spencer Bright) had sold well and there was a thirst for anything connected to the Eighties and wearing kohl. The book did reasonably, but for me it was frustrating. To be a successful ghost you really have to check your ego at the door, and my self-obsession was far too big to spend that long listening to someone else talk about himself.

And, of course, ghostwriting in different forms goes on everywhere. Gordon Brown’s “new book” Wartime Courage is not written by him, except for the introduction and the conclusion, but then politicians are used to having words scripted for them, with eager-beaver researchers penning speeches for their bosses. And in pop music there are countless rumours of stars letting fans think that they have written their own hits, then quietly paying off composers in the background.

“Publishers would rather there weren’t ghostwriters,” explains Trevor Dolby, head of the new Random House imprint Preface. The facts seem to bear this out. The biggest seller in 2006 was Peter Kay’s The Sound of Laughter, which shifted more than half a million units and was genuinely written by Peter Kay. Dolby is also proud that one of his early hits was Martin Kemp’s autobiography, True, which the musician-turned-actor wrote single-handed while recovering from his brain tumour operation. “It is always better to have the subject write it. But if they are any good, and if the ghost is any good, their voice will come through.”

Ghosts are a necessary evil. Not just because some stars – and not always those responsible for what are known in the trade as “chav memoirs”, such as Kerry Katona and Jordan/Katie Price – lack literary experience, but because publishing is an essential part of the 24/7 fame process these days, and stars don’t always have time to dip their quills in their Quink. “It’s all part of the branding,” adds Dolby.

Ghostwriting can be a lucrative trade, whether its practitioners spend six hours taping their subject or stalk them for a year. Dolby says that there are about eight anonymous scribes who do it full-time and make a good living while nobody knows who they are: “They are very secretive and discreet and sign huge confidentiality agreements.”

Sometimes names do leak out in gossip columns and on the journalistic grapevine. Gordon Ramsay’s Humble Pie was a 2006 bestseller but it was the award-winning feature writer Rachel Cooke who quietly wore out the “f” key on her laptop. Then again, she can afford a new computer, having pocketed a rumoured £100,000 share of Ramsay’s rumoured £750,000 advance.

Above the parapet, however, there are the likes of Hunter Davies, a respected author in his own right, who stands to get a nice slice of Wayne Rooney’s five-book £5 million HarperCollins deal. Davies is one of the few ghosts who is a household name in houses apart from his own. In fact, his involvement may help to shift units, too.

Paul Gorman ghosted the second Boy George autobiography, Straight, and says it is essential to have empathy for your subject. “George and I are both London Irish and the youngest of six, and I ended up living with him in New York for four months. It was an extraordinary time.” Football fan Tom Watt clearly hit it off with David Beckham when he played Boswell to soccer’s Samuel Johnson and, despite being a little famous himself, having played Lofty in EastEnders, knew when to shut up. “You have to be able to fall into the background,” agrees Trevor Dolby.

Gorman suggests that ghosting an autobiography is almost like therapy for the subject. “They can really pour their hearts out. Sometimes, though, they see it on paper and can’t believe what they’ve said. I think with George there was a worry that I’d got inside his head a bit too much. There wasn’t exactly a falling out, but it was a bit awkward afterwards. It would have been like seeing your psychiatrist socially.”

Having also written books with UB40, Goldie, and one with Dexy’s Midnight Runner Kevin Rowland that was mutually shelved, Gorman wanted some “me time”: “I was fed up with other people filling my head with their stories.” Last year he published a fashion history, The Look, with his name on the cover. “It’s vanity. I guess that’s why celebrities want the credit. Everyone wants to see their name on the spine of a book.”

But if you don’t have a book in you, ghostwriting is a start. In the late Nineties, James Dyson asked Giles Coren, now the Times restaurant critic, to write his autobiography. “He offered to pay me but that sounded like vanity publishing,” says Coren, “so I said that if he gave me the copyright I would sell the book.” Shrewd move. “If anyone wants to update the book they have to come to me.”

Coren would not do it again but suggests that aspiring writers should try it: “Writing in somebody else’s voice is boring but you learn the discipline of organising material. And at the time I was a writer who couldn’t think of a story, so James gave me his.”

Ghostwriting has been around for longer than one might think. The term first came to prominence in the Twenties in America, when baseball heroes such as Babe Ruth had syndicated columns published across the country. Someone had to hunch over the typewriters while the sportsmen were busy slugging balls around the diamond, and the ghost was born.

The sports pages have been haunted by it ever since. Numerous celebrity columns make their way into print via a quick call to the office and a tame journalist turning a soccer star’s ramblings on the burning issues of the day into silky prose.

To Russell Brand’s eternal credit, he does write his own weekly West Ham-inspired column for The Guardian, regularly obstructing other reporters’ views with his bouffant hair in the Upton Park press box.

Getting into the ghostwriting game is a delicate business. Robin Eggar ghosted Midge Ure’s If I Was . . . and has also written biographies of Tom Jones and Shania Twain. On the whole he prefers the latter process. Ghostwriting can be tortuous even before it starts. Recently he was courted to write a famous rock star’s rollercoaster story. He was flown to LA and wined and dined, “but the trouble was the star didn’t want to do the book. And to be honest, I think if I’d taken it on I’d have gone mad.”

He is succinct about the biggest frustration of ghosting: “The problem is that you are not in control. It is someone else’s story and your job is to make him sound much more articulate than he really is. Midge Ure had been struggling with alcoholism for a while and the experience of exposing his thoughts brought the demons home. It was quite traumatic, but I must have done something right – his wife liked the book.”

According to Eggar, there are two types of ghosted autobiography: “There’s the quick Ashley Cole type, complaining how unfair it is that he gets only £60,000 a week, and well-thought-out books such as the new Eric Clapton one by Christopher Simon Sykes.” Sykes landed a reported £600,000 for being slowhand’s right-hand man. Old rock’n’roll is the new rock’n’roll as far as autobiographies are concerned. Or even the new monarchy. Clapton’s ex, Pattie Boyd, wrote her book with royal scribe Penny Junor. Keith Richards has been paid a reported £3 million for his memoirs and, given that his memory might be a little hazy, his collaborator James Fox may earn his percentage. Heck, I’d forgo a byline for 10 per cent of that – and if he has a good agent he could bank about 30 per cent, plus future royalties.

It is certainly a bizarre pact, with the ghost never quite knowing whether he or she is confidante, surrogate analyst or new best mate. And the subjects can end up equally befuddled. Giles Coren recalls that James Dyson said little about his childhood, so Coren had to pad it out. Trevor Dolby goes one stage farther. “I can name two or three high-profile people who are convinced that they have written their own autobiographies when they damn well haven’t.”

While the cheques involved might be bigger than ever, there is nothing new about books and their subjects rarely coming into contact. Naomi Campbell famously scuppered the hype for her 1995 novel Swan (currently available on Amazon for £0.01) by hinting that she had not exactly written every word. At least Ronald Reagan was upfront when asked about his collected reflections, An American Life: “I hear it’s a terrific book. One of these days I’m going to read it myself.”

Ghosts at a glance

Wayne Rooney, five-book deal
The advance: £5 million
The ghost: Hunter Davies

Eric Clapton, The Autobiography
The advance: £4 million
The ghost: Christopher Simon Sykes

Keith Richards, autobiography
The advance: £3 million
The ghost: James Fox

Gary Barlow, My Take
The advance: £1 million
The ghost: Richard Havers

Gordon Ramsay, Humble Pie
The advance: £750,000
The ghost: Rachel Cooke

Russell Brand, My Booky Wook
The advance: £500,000
The ghost: Ben Thompson

Sharon Osbourne, Extreme
The advance: not known
The ghost: Penelope Dening

Victoria Beckham, That Extra Half an Inch
The advance: not known
The ghost: Hadley Freeman

Ricky Tomlinson, Ricky
The advance: £800,000
The ghost: Michael Robotham

— My Booky Wook is published on November 15 by Hodder & Stoughton, £18.99.

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