When a lie of omission is still a lie…
The biggest scandal of the publishing year in 2025 was, of course, the saga of Raynor Winn and her 2018 memoir, The Salt Path. Everything had been going swimmingly for Winn, with the book topping the bestseller charts, the publication of two sequels and the release of a major film production of The Salt Path starring Gillian Anderson. Then last July a detailed investigative report published in The Observer cast serious doubt on the truthfulness of key elements of the narrative. Since then, more evidence has come to light, including testimony from family members, some alleging that Sally Walker (her real name) has been embroiled in a series of deceptions, money-related and otherwise, dating back over decades.
In the aftermath, many people have pointed the finger at Winn’s publishers, Penguin Random House, for their failure to carry out due diligence in relation to the veracity of the story and the credibility of their author. And it’s true that there were claims in the 2018 book which should have warranted further questions if not thorough investigation.
But realistically there are limits to what a publisher may be able to uncover about potential authors. Most include ‘warranty and indemnity’ clauses in their contracts (in which the author pledges that everything they have presented as fact is, to the best of their knowledge, true), and the vast majority of authors sign up to these in good faith. Publishing – like most other businesses and human interactions generally – is based on trust, and a certain expectation of trustworthiness on both sides, and it’s almost impossible to guarantee complete protection from unscrupulous players out to take advantage.
There’s also the reality that no one can ever know everything about another person. Especially if they decide not to share certain telling details. . .
Many moons ago, around this time of the year, when I was working as a literary agent and freelance editor as opposed to an ‘official’ ghostwriter, I was contacted by a publisher seeking editorial help with a book which was to be their ‘lead title’ for that autumn. This book was the memoir of a self-styled ‘psychic medium’ who’d been making a name for herself in the previous few years. (For the purposes of this piece, let’s call her Zelda X.) Her annual roadshows around the country were phenomenally popular, sell-out events renowned for the sheer number of audience members she was apparently able to connect with deceased loved ones while she was live on stage – and her flair and charisma while brokering these often highly emotional ‘reunions’ was undeniable. As well as someone who’d apparently been gifted privileged access to the ‘world of spirit’ (as she referred to it), she was clearly talented entrepreneur with a gift for self-promotion.
Zelda X had delivered a first draft of her book of about 60 000 words (approximately 180 pages) but, as the publisher explained, the text needed a lot of work to make it a more compelling read. There was no structure to help a reader make sense of the events of the author’s life; many of the anecdotes included were told in a pedestrian, run-of-the-mill style; and she hadn’t written anything at all about what was actually involved in the process of channelling messages from ‘the other side’. As well as working on all of this, I’d need to help Zelda put together a final section for the book of about 20 000 words.
I took the job on and spent some weeks editing the existing text in detail while keeping Zelda X in the loop. Once we had a convincing, readable version of the first 200 pages or so, we moved on to the work of gathering material for the conclusion, which we did in several face-to-face interview sessions, over 2 – 3 days each time.
In so many ways Zelda X was an editor’s dream to work with – she responded promptly to emails, was focused and serious about getting the work done quickly, and she was open to many of my suggestions on the edit. She still wasn’t forthcoming about the ‘nuts and bolts’ of being a medium, but since she seemed to be a generally quite reserved person – in stark contrast to her stage persona – this didn’t strike me as particularly worrisome or strange. My sense was that she genuinely believed in what she was doing, and in helping grieving people desperate for some kind of contact from lost loved ones. And it’s possible that she did.
I had noticed that when Zelda travelled to meet me for the interview sessions, she made a point of staying in the most high-end hotel in the country, and insisted we have lunch each day in the two-star Michelin restaurant in the premises. But especially since she was covering her own expenses. I didn’t dwell on this for too long. I simply assumed that she’d built up a lot of wealth in her previous profession (finance). Either that, or the world of mediumship was far more lucrative than I’d imagined!
Once our work was finished, I was able to send everything to the publisher ahead of the deadline. I was feeling upbeat about how the process had gone –it’s not often things go so smoothly and seamlessly when it comes to having to rework an author’s book so extensively. And the publishers were pleased with the end result too.
But, as you may have guessed, the story didn’t end there.
The day before publication date – for which a high-profile launch event had been organised, as well as a packed schedule of press interviews and public appearances, I got a call from the publisher’s Managing Director. When I saw the number coming up on my phone, my first thought was that there was some awful typo or other editorial error in the book which had only just spotted, meaning that they’d have to put a correction slip into every copy of the brand new book.
But it was far worse than that.
‘Have you seen the papers today, Susan?’
When I replied that I hadn’t, she elaborated. ‘Right, so in that case, you won’t know about Zelda X. She was up in court yesterday for sentencing on a conviction for serious theft. It seems that three years ago she stole a six-figure sum from a 95-year-old lady with dementia while acting as the family’s financial advisor! The Judge has just handed down six years’ jail time, suspended for twelve months, for what he called her, “extraordinarily fraudulent and dishonest” actions. . .
‘We’re going to have to pull the book of course. The distributor has sent all the pre-orders to bookshops all over the country, but we’ll have to recall every single one!’
The MD went on to ask if I’d ever had any inkling that there was something dodgy about Zelda, or if during our work together she’d ever mentioned any upcoming appearances in court – to which, after recovering from my shock, I replied no on both counts. But she knew already that if I had suspected anything, I would have let her know straight away.
And so this small independent publishing company had to shred thousands of freshly printed copies of the book they’d hoped would be the biggest income-generator of their year. There were no other options on the table. They knew that if they had gone ahead regardless, they would have brought their whole operation into disrepute by the association with a convicted criminal amd a confidence trickster of the worst kind.
Perhaps if it had been some other kind of misdemeanour (a far less serious one for a start!), and if the author had been upfront about it at the earliest stage, before signing the contract, there might have been a way to proceed with the book. Most of us aren’t perfect and most of us have at some point in our past done something which wasn’t ideal – publishers know this, as do agents.
But in this instance, think about it – how many readers would want to buy a book by a psychic medium who’d heartlessly convinced a vulnerable old lady to hand over her life savings, swiftly depositing it in an off-shore account in the Cayman Islands, never to be referred to again? Engaging the services of a medium in the first place requires a certain willing suspension of disbelief (or simple desperation) on the part of the ‘ordinary’ person. But if the channel to the other side is a convicted confidence trickster, then all bets are off . . .
So if you’re thinking of writing a memoir, my advice always is to be prepared to tell anyone involved – your ghostwriter, if you have one, your agent and in turn your publisher – as early as possible anything which might be remotely relevant to the eventual commercial of your book. And if you’re not sure what these need-to-know things might be, you can always consult a professional in the industry – such as the ghostwriters here at UG – we’ll be happy to help (in the strictest of confidence of course). It may save everyone involved a lot of potential heartache in the future!