On Coolness

One day I received a rejection from an agent who said that she was “not quite cool enough to work on a book about indie rock.” Of course, I wanted to scream. As a writer, I’m used to rejection. That comes with the territory. What bothered me is that she hadn’t seemed to notice that the main character of my book is a nerd.

In fact, I am willing to bet that 85% of all successful musicians started out as weirdos who were bullied or ostracized for their weirdness. It takes a certain kind of personality to practice an instrument for hours, to dream of fame, to be able and willing to entertain hundreds or even thousands at a time.

I have none of those skills. As a kid, I was shy and awkward. To this day, I’m not entirely sure of what to do with my hands.

After college, I went to see a lot of bands, and I had friends in bands, but I would never have chosen a profession or even a hobby that would put me on stage for any length of time. I am an observer. Dancing in public is fraught for me.

And that’s okay. Because somewhere along the way, I realized a performer is nothing without an audience. People like me give actors and musicians a raison d’être.

So there’s no reason why this book should make anyone feel uncool. If anything, Silverman is a celebration of the power of weirdness to propel a person beyond their origins, into a certain kind of coolness that is less about being calm and collected than being yourself. So rock on, nerds!