Invisible Influence: The Ghostwriting Shaping Architecture’s Public Voice

Let’s face it: architecture is slow. Not just in delivery, but in dialogue. Big ideas about design, cities, and society often stay locked in project documents, awards entries, or worse, people’s heads. Meanwhile, the public conversation rushes on without them. TikToks. Substacks. AI thinkpieces. All noise, little depth.

Architects have depth. But they don’t always have time. Or the desire to publish their thoughts in 1,200 neatly structured words.

This is where ghostwriting steps in to establish a bridge between creativity and mass reach. It’s a way to amplify ideas without diluting their value. But it comes with real ethical considerations: How do we protect authenticity? Who owns the final voice? And what does it mean to be transparent about a practice that’s inherently... discreet?

This article explores those questions. If you’re an architect considering ghostwriting support or a writer operating behind the curtain, this is your field guide.

Ghostwriting Isn’t Cheating (Unless You’re Faking Expertise)

The word “ghostwriting” tends to make people nervous. It has an air of deception, as though someone is pretending to be an expert they’re not. But in architecture, where authorship and authorship culture carry serious weight, that worry needs unpacking.

True architectural ghostwriting isn’t a case of faking insight. It’s about clarity and collaboration. The architect has the ideas, the experience, and the point of view. The ghostwriter simply helps shape those into language that travels.

Think of it like hiring a renderer. You don’t accuse a firm of being dishonest because they didn’t Photoshop their own visuals. You understand that specialist tools and skills are part of the delivery. Ghostwriting is the same. It is a communication infrastructure.

Where it becomes unethical is when the ghostwriter is injecting positions or claims that the architect hasn’t reviewed or doesn’t support. That’s not support, that’s impersonation. The line is clear: it’s fine to polish a voice. It’s not fine to fabricate one.

So no, ghostwriting isn’t cheating, unless the person whose name is on the piece wouldn’t stand by the ideas in it.

Authenticity: How to Sound Like Yourself on a Good Day

The fear most architects have is that ghostwriting will make them sound generic or worse, fake. But a skilled ghostwriter’s job isn’t to write what they think sounds good. It’s to write what you would say if you had the time to structure it.

The process starts with immersion. The writer needs to understand not just your bio, but your thinking. That means:

• Listening to how you speak about design problems.

• Picking up the turns of phrase you naturally use.

• Understanding your influences, from Louis Kahn to David Chipperfield to the chef whose mise en place changed your life.

The goal is to build a language model based on you, not ChatGPT. When done well, the final piece should feel like a voice note transcribed by someone who knows where the commas go.

Crucially, authenticity doesn’t mean raw. An unedited stream of consciousness isn’t “realer” than a tight, structured article. The ghostwriter helps you sound like yourself, just on a very good day, with very strong coffee.

Transparency: Public Honesty vs Private Discretion

This is where the tension lives. Should architects declare that they use ghostwriters?

The purists say yes. They argue that if someone else touched the words, the public deserves to know. But architecture has always been collaborative. Project descriptions are rarely written by one person. Even design work is credited collectively. I know for a fact that leaders of large architecture practices have people, or in some cases teams, managing their personal brand. The posts they put out, the words they write and the images they share. Of course that is the case... can you imagine at 90 and with the load of work he has going on, Norman Foster to be scrolling for images to share on his next Instagram post?!

So here’s a better test: Are you pretending to do something you didn’t?

If you're claiming to be a prolific essayist with a Medium archive you’ve never read, let alone written, that’s disingenuous. But if you work with a content strategist or ghostwriter to bring your ideas into the world more effectively, and you don’t shout about it from the rooftops, that’s fine. Most people don’t care how the sausage is made. They care if it tastes good.

That said, discretion shouldn’t mean denial. If a journalist or collaborator asks how you manage to publish so regularly, be honest. “I work with a writing partner who helps turn my thinking into shareable content” is a fair and transparent response. It builds credibility, not weakens it.

Transparency, in this context, is more about alignment than confession. You don’t have to disclose every ghostwritten piece, but you should be able to stand behind them all.

Ownership: Who Gets the Credit, Who Gets the Copyright

This one’s murky for many people, but it shouldn’t be.

When I create a piece of content based on your input, with your approval, and under a paid agreement, you own it. You’re not borrowing it. You’re not licensing it. You’re commissioning it. Just like architectural drawings produced by a team belong to the firm whose name is on the door.

That said, boundaries help:

• I make it clear in the contract that all rights to the content are transferred upon delivery and approval.

• Decide whether the structures or frameworks can be reused by the ghostwriter in future pieces for other clients.

• Clarify what happens if content is reused across platforms (e.g., blog to book chapter).

If the content includes original metaphors, data interpretations, or case studies contributed by the ghostwriter, decide upfront if those are exclusive.

The ethical breach isn’t in sharing creative labour. It’s in pretending that none occurred, or leaving ownership ambiguous.

Trust is Infrastructure: Without It, Nothing Stands

The ghostwriting relationship is built on trust. If that trust breaks down, the work falls apart.

For architects, this means trusting that your ghostwriter won’t misrepresent you, oversimplify your thinking, or inject their own opinions into your content. For ghostwriters, it means trusting that the architect will be present, responsive, and clear about what they believe. That is why the relationship will start with a 'dating' period. There needs to be a match between the two sides, and that will not happen between all ghostwriters and clients. Just like some people are not the right fit for your company, I might not be the right fit for your voice, but we will never know until we have a go at it.

Trust in this relationship looks like:

• Open conversations about what you don’t want to say.

• A willingness to kill drafts that don’t feel right. (really important)

• A shared understanding of tone and purpose. Bold? Subtle? Provocative?

Without that, you’re just producing words. With it, you’re shaping thought leadership that feels like leadership. Think of it like a good architect–engineer relationship. If there’s mutual respect, you build better things together.

Architecture Isn’t the First to Face This

Ghostwriting isn’t new. It’s just new to you.

Politicians don’t write their speeches. Tech founders don’t write their Medium posts. Book authors, yes, even the big ones, often work with co-writers or editors who shape the final product.

The professions that deal in ideas have already normalised this. Not because they’re lazy, but because they know what’s at stake. If your ideas matter, getting them across clearly is part of the job.

Architecture has lagged behind because it clings to the romantic notion of the lone genius. In practice, most great architects lead teams, not typewriters.

So no, using a ghostwriter doesn’t diminish your credibility. What diminishes it is having no public voice at all. I have another post on this point in which I dig deeper into Why Inconsistent Content Is Killing Your Architecture Studio's Growth.

Architects Shouldn’t Write Like Architects

Let’s be blunt. Much architectural writing is unreadable.

Dense. Over-academic. Designed to impress critics, not connect with humans.

The job of a ghostwriter is to translate it. To turn jargon into clarity. To help architects talk to clients, collaborators, and communities, not just other architects.

The most powerful design ideas are the ones the public can understand. Not because they’re simple. But because they’re clear. I touch on this point in another post that looks at How to Describe Your Architecture Project: Mastering Architectural Design Narratives.

Final Thoughts: Invisible Work, Real Impact

Architects are under pressure to communicate. But writing isn’t always the best use of their time or skillset. Ghostwriting offers a strategic solution because architects shouldn’t have to write everything alone.

If the process is honest, the collaboration respectful, and the outcome faithful to the original thinking, ghostwriting is an essential tool to use as much as visualisations.

The ideas that change the built environment shouldn’t stay trapped in project files or pitch decks. They should be heard. Understood. Acted on.

And if that takes a little help from the shadows? So be it.