o know as much about me as possible before we get going. I'm a fascinating and eccentric figure with whimsically colorful stories to tell. And I enjoy soup.
However, book foreword authors occupy a rather unique position in the greater world. For years I'm sure you've seen my name marqueed at the bottom of book covers. It's not the first thing to grab your eye, but once you've discovered its presence you are ushered into a state of calm, bland serenity. And why not, because as far as book foreword authors go, I suppose I'm as recognized as any. And while it's not the most high profile of professions, it's not without its share of curious celebrity.
Perhaps exaggerated stories of the lavish lifestyles we foreword writers lead have become too prevalent. Tales of gold-plated bidets that spout champagne; urban legends of wardrobes made from nothing but sloth hides; rumors floating around the schoolyard about the house up on the hill owned by a madman who has built his own time machine from discard