A fool is an unpaid, or poorly paid, person especially devoted to or skilled in some activity.
For instance, I am a writing fool.
Six hours of every day are spent on my widening butt in front of a computer screen. Or to put it another way, I spend six hours a day in a world of my own creation. I soar and plummet and kill and forgive. I feel the heat of an open fire on my face. Follow Bigfoot through the fog drenched forests of the Pacific Northwest. Experience the dull, gray ache of a civil war veteran who is never coming home. Ride a glass elevator in a foreign city with a dog as big as small elephant tethered to my wrist while my husband smiles widely at the beautiful and very nervous woman beside us and sings Young girl, Get outta my mind.
I am a writing fool.
Now, if I ever actually make significant money with my words, then I’ll be a hard-working, hugely talented and prolific author.
In this definition, the only difference between a fool and a success is money.
So, here’s the opportunity I’m giving you. Buy my books now. While they’re still the work of a fool. That way, when I cross that bridge from the land of idiots to that tiny island of successful authors, you’ll be able to smile smugly and tell your friends,
“Oh my gosh. I’ve been following Pamela Foster‘s blogs and reading her work for years. I knew she’d be discovered sooner or later. I just can’t believe it took the rest of you so long to figure out what a wonderful writer she is.”
Or perhaps, after reading this post, you have a somewhat different definition of my particular variety of fool.