Dedalus News & Blog

John Schoneboom’s Blog; The Price of Fame

A lot of people assume that once you’ve had a novel published, your life is forever changed and you’ll never again have to feel that existential void at the heart of our meaningless existence. Well, I’m here to tell you these people couldn’t be more wrong.

Oh sure, certain things have changed. I was surprised that the papers made such a big deal out of me not showing up at Kanye and Kim’s wedding. There was a lot of baseless speculation that Kanye and I had beef, that I had intentionally snubbed him by leaving his name pointedly out of Fontoon, or that Kanye resented the way Kim had started sending me hundreds of text messages a day. I didn’t even reply to most of them. She’s a sweet kid but frankly I just don’t have the time. Not any more.

It’s fun at first doing the clubs with Clooney and Pitt, sure. But it gets old like anything else. And the drama! It’s like, nonstop. Supposedly now I’m at the centre of some Twitter dispute between Nicki Minaj and Jessie J. As a lot of my good rapper friends like to spit in homage to my man Biggie, mo’ money mo’ problems. Word! (BTW, Nicki, back off; Jessie’s right and u know it girl.)

People change. Every day I hit my local for my daily white filter, only now the server says what’s up and I’m like “got a novel published” and she’s like “cool” and we both know what time it is. My friends still don’t call me up but it’s different now. Jealousy. Comes with the territory. Sometimes when I push my way onto a crowded metro before the unpublished masses can get out, I get some real ugly looks. Yeah, I notice it. Haters be hatin’.

I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining. Certain responsibilities have been thrust upon me in my new position as published novelist, and sure, I’m proud. When President Obama summoned me to the Oval Office, you bet I went. I’m not bragging but check it: he asks me should he invade Syria; I say no that’s wack; invasion cancelled. OK? The World Federation of Top Scientists adopting my plan to save the honeybee? A huge honour. Saving a World Cup record sixteen goals for my country against Belgium? Humbling. Truly humbling.

So I’ve been blessed. I’m not denying that. But at the end of the day, the truth is the Nietzschean abyss is still there in the mirror waiting for you. At least when the void stares back at me now, it’s going to be blinded by bling, because I got me some of those colourful rubber band bracelets the kids are all crazy for right now. My son made them for me. My family knows they can still talk to me, make stuff for me. It’s tough now sometimes, but they know I’m doing my best to keep it real.

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