Dr. Lewis B. Turndevelts Big Book of Forewords | Page 8

story of how I owe my career to a cross-dressing dog track
janitor party clown in leather.
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Foreword By Lord Byron S. Fizzlepot, III
It has been said that to be successful at anything, you must first
sacrifice everything. I don't quite remember who said that, or really
even precisely what they were getting at, but it is a quote that has stuck
with me for many years, and I have always wanted to use it at the
beginning of a foreword. So there you have it.
They're peculiar things, these forewords. You would think that it would
be an easy affair to preface a book that has already been written. The
main work is already done, so someone must simply go in and gush
knowingly about either the brilliance of the author or the importance of
the subject. It's like giving a toast at a wedding reception: it's not a time
to freely speak your mind, or even necessarily to be honest, but rather it
is your duty at that time and in that particular instance to smile, go
through the motions, and praise the magnificence of the whole event.
Oftentimes you are being sincere. But occasionally you can already feel
the slime collecting on your skin.

Such is the predicament of anyone seeking to make their mark in the
literary world by adding tag-alongs to other people's books. Is it
enjoyable work? Oh, occasionally. Is it honest work? I suppose you
could do worse. But like anything else, it's a business, and as such it
requires a certain amount of thick skin and flexible conscience. Many
times a foreword is written as a personal favor to the author, say from a
trusted friend or colleague. But just as often, whether due to impending
deadlines or a momentary lapse of judgment, there is a need to pull out
the big guns and bring in a professional to get the job done quickly and
skillfully. Either that or you find yourself with an author that has no
friends or colleagues.
Which brings us to Dr. Turndevelt. How he fits into any of the above
equation, I'm not quite sure. He is prolific. And he is seasoned, I'll give
him that much. But other than that, I haven't the foggiest of ideas why
anyone would either need or request his services for anything. Is he a
good writer? I'm sure he is perfectly capable of jotting down a post-it
note list of sundries to pick up from the market. But as far as sheer
literary abilities go... well, let's just say that some have called him the
fast-food value meal of the book world. (Actually, I said that, but I'm
sure others have thought it as well... especially after I tell them as much
at dinner parties.) And it is my personal guess that his title of "Dr." is
nothing more than a bizarre abbreviation for a first name. Perhaps
Darius or Darren? I haven't quite decided. But it is due to nothing more
than dumb luck that he has been allowed to enjoy the career that he has.
I remember a time when mine was the only name in town to know
when a quick and/or vaguely important-looking book foreword was
needed. I was on the short list of all the major publishers, as well as
more than my fair share of fledgling startups. Actually, I was the list.
For the better part of seventeen years I spent week after tedious
workweek penning short and shockingly similar forewords to whatever
book projects were thrown my way. It was monotonous, menial work.
But it was work. Fortunately, times are different now. After doing time,
as it were, I slowly but steadily built up enough contacts that someone
was finally willing to take a chance on my pet project, my one true
literary love: an annotated history of the drinking straw from

1888-1937. But it wasn't until my breakout book, It Sucks: The Birth of
the Modern Drinking Straw, that I was finally able to leave forewords
behind as a means of primary income.
But since someone has to do it, they went out and found another
someone. They must not have looked very hard, but deadlines are just
that. Oh sure, Turndevelt had been around for years, but references to
his name in those days were generally followed by the phrase, "and I
hear he's out of rehab now." So although I never meant to, I guess you
could say that I inadvertently passed on the torch to Dr. Turndevelt. But
where once the torch was a bellowing furnace of literary heat and fury,
it has now dwindled to a disposable lighter with a filthy saying on its
case that you might find at a truck stop (and this is in no