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Michael Cera
Michael Cera is in McSweeney’s issue 30.
Discuss.
I deleted the excerpt because it wasn’ t Michael Cera.
In context of the convo, it likely doesn’t matter.
Here is a summary of the story, which likely fills the proper role:
This is one of those weird cases where you know enough about the author to wonder about the story (as Cera is not 38). The story concerns Carroll Silver, a 38 year old actor who fears that he is past his prime. He lashes out at everyone around him including his agent, which leads him to be in bad financial straits. It is only when he lashes out at an innocent young fan, who criticizes his movie Pinecone, that Silver wonders just how far his star has fallen. Silver’s attempt at redemption is simultaneously creepy and touching. The attention to detail in the story is very good, as is the way Cera understands awkward stardom (or at least it seems genuine to me, a person who has experienced no awkward stardom). I look forward to more work from him.
Tags: mcsweeney's, michael cera
If I read this in a slush pile I would keep reading it. Other than that, I don’t know because I haven’t read it all, but I will. Michael Cera is likable enough, no?
If I read this in a slush pile I would keep reading it. Other than that, I don’t know because I haven’t read it all, but I will. Michael Cera is likable enough, no?
my copy hasn’t come yet, but when i saw his name on the contributor’s list i said, ‘huh’
i am looking forward to a new story by etgar keret.
my copy hasn’t come yet, but when i saw his name on the contributor’s list i said, ‘huh’
i am looking forward to a new story by etgar keret.
“super small” is a mistake but other then that this seems okay. He’s writing from an interesting perspective. Good job Michael Cera.
“super small” is a mistake but other then that this seems okay. He’s writing from an interesting perspective. Good job Michael Cera.
i definitely don’t hate it. not bad cera. how does everyone feel about the constant need by zoetrope to include a “big-name” actor usually to include some fiction rather than giving that spot to a struggling motherfucker who would probably be much more grateful? woody allen, john hughes. i used to like zoetrope but damn francis, can we get a little less advertising for all your wines? and also, i heard from someone i know that worked as an intern that it’s highly discouraged to pluck from the slush pile unless someone has numerous pub credits or is from one of “the top mfa programs” whatever that means.
i definitely don’t hate it. not bad cera. how does everyone feel about the constant need by zoetrope to include a “big-name” actor usually to include some fiction rather than giving that spot to a struggling motherfucker who would probably be much more grateful? woody allen, john hughes. i used to like zoetrope but damn francis, can we get a little less advertising for all your wines? and also, i heard from someone i know that worked as an intern that it’s highly discouraged to pluck from the slush pile unless someone has numerous pub credits or is from one of “the top mfa programs” whatever that means.
Yeah, I don’t know. I’d keep reading this — whether or not I knew who wrote it. And who are we to judge, anyway? Good work, Cera. I thought you were adorable in that show.
Yeah, I don’t know. I’d keep reading this — whether or not I knew who wrote it. And who are we to judge, anyway? Good work, Cera. I thought you were adorable in that show.
yeah, its like the def poetry jam, where the night is concluded with some celebrity reading a poem. george clinton or some one.
fuck you russell simmons.
not really. i love you mr simmons, i do. i have all your def poetry jams on dvd.
why are people so bothered by “big names” getting to show out. they’ve earned it right? no? its not like they havent put in years and years and years of work to get where they are, before most of us were in diapers, son, diapers.
so calm the fuck down, stop hating nd bitching and work on tightening, strengthening your own shit.
i kid i kid. fuck you zoetrope. not really. i love you zoe. fuck off.
yeah, its like the def poetry jam, where the night is concluded with some celebrity reading a poem. george clinton or some one.
fuck you russell simmons.
not really. i love you mr simmons, i do. i have all your def poetry jams on dvd.
why are people so bothered by “big names” getting to show out. they’ve earned it right? no? its not like they havent put in years and years and years of work to get where they are, before most of us were in diapers, son, diapers.
so calm the fuck down, stop hating nd bitching and work on tightening, strengthening your own shit.
i kid i kid. fuck you zoetrope. not really. i love you zoe. fuck off.
haha
haha
goerge michael
goerge michael
He’s certainly always seemed smartish, with his ad-libbing and whatnot. Not that that automatically means he can write, but I’d be more inclined to expect he could than many other actors. I mean many comedians are writers, no?
He’s certainly always seemed smartish, with his ad-libbing and whatnot. Not that that automatically means he can write, but I’d be more inclined to expect he could than many other actors. I mean many comedians are writers, no?
Is there a comedian who is a good writer? Of books I mean, not TV or such. Steve Martin is the only one who comes to mind.
I wish Gene WIlder would write a book
Is there a comedian who is a good writer? Of books I mean, not TV or such. Steve Martin is the only one who comes to mind.
I wish Gene WIlder would write a book
I think I may have heard somewhere that James Franco is taking writing classes at Columbia.
I think I may have heard somewhere that James Franco is taking writing classes at Columbia.
Gene Wilder has written two books. One memoir about Gilda Radner. One novel. (Did research. Actually, three. Another novel.)
Woody Allen has a couple of books.
Gene Wilder has written two books. One memoir about Gilda Radner. One novel. (Did research. Actually, three. Another novel.)
Woody Allen has a couple of books.
Also, AL Kennedy is a novelist who got into stand up comedy a few years ago. Kind of backwards.
Also, AL Kennedy is a novelist who got into stand up comedy a few years ago. Kind of backwards.
I think Craig Ferguson’s novel was well-reviewed. Haven’t read it.
I think Craig Ferguson’s novel was well-reviewed. Haven’t read it.
early woody allen?
early woody allen?
woops matthew simmons already beat me to it
i thought he was at ucla?
woops matthew simmons already beat me to it
i thought he was at ucla?
If it came to a I’d reject it after the first paragraph, but I’m not looking for these kinds of pieces so. But this feels like the tone of most stories in ‘top tier’ journals I guess. I was a little confused because from the first p I thought the protag was an american male but I guess it is an israeli female? who runs a canning factory in the states? after living in the states only a year? and is only 21? Hopefully she can escape from jail from being the unknowing cause of the Bruchtussis epidemic (I wonder, is there an existing precedent for trials involving people who cause epidemics?). The problem with realism is it is subject to the scrutiny of reality.
I had to google michael cera. I’d never heard of him.
I think it is interesting when people who have jobs that have a tangential connection to writing decide to try pure writing (like actors who are used to reading scripts, journalists used to conveying information in a certain way) and how that influences them. I don’t think it’s good necessarily, not that they won’t be successful in the same manner of film or media they are already a part of, but in their ability to be innovative. If publication is a given because of status, then where is the incentive to do something ridiculous? In fact there is disincentive because to do so could be harmful to their status because to do something ridiculous means to experiment and to experiment means to fail over and over and over. I think before anyone is allowed to publish anything anywhere they should be forced to read everything by Joyce, Beckett, and Barthelme. If that happens, then nothing else matters.
If it came to a I’d reject it after the first paragraph, but I’m not looking for these kinds of pieces so. But this feels like the tone of most stories in ‘top tier’ journals I guess. I was a little confused because from the first p I thought the protag was an american male but I guess it is an israeli female? who runs a canning factory in the states? after living in the states only a year? and is only 21? Hopefully she can escape from jail from being the unknowing cause of the Bruchtussis epidemic (I wonder, is there an existing precedent for trials involving people who cause epidemics?). The problem with realism is it is subject to the scrutiny of reality.
I had to google michael cera. I’d never heard of him.
I think it is interesting when people who have jobs that have a tangential connection to writing decide to try pure writing (like actors who are used to reading scripts, journalists used to conveying information in a certain way) and how that influences them. I don’t think it’s good necessarily, not that they won’t be successful in the same manner of film or media they are already a part of, but in their ability to be innovative. If publication is a given because of status, then where is the incentive to do something ridiculous? In fact there is disincentive because to do so could be harmful to their status because to do something ridiculous means to experiment and to experiment means to fail over and over and over. I think before anyone is allowed to publish anything anywhere they should be forced to read everything by Joyce, Beckett, and Barthelme. If that happens, then nothing else matters.
ethan hawke has written two novels i think, one of which was made into a movie.
ethan hawke has written two novels i think, one of which was made into a movie.
You heard right. He’s here. Smart guy, actually.
You heard right. He’s here. Smart guy, actually.
I’m making huge assumptions about stereotypes here though. How much are actors influenced by reading scripts? Does it become a piece of writing they consider successful because the film got made or not? It might be a thing where the longer you’re in the profession the more it gets infused into you, but that goes with anything.
I don’t like judging anyone based on resumes. But maybe we are judging mcsweeneys and not cera, if we are judging anyone. If people like the story, great, and because I may not, I don’t jump to grand injustices. My tastes are more warped these days. I think this is something I like about mcsweeneys though, they do things in the face of controversy unflinchingly.
Eggers does similar things in Best American Non, getting people who aren’t necessarily writers but on the fringes of being writers to write intros or include, people who if they wrote at all we think it would probably be kind of good, like if Bill Murray wrote a novel. Sometimes it turns out to not be good though. Sometimes not be good is good in a not good goodness.
I’m making huge assumptions about stereotypes here though. How much are actors influenced by reading scripts? Does it become a piece of writing they consider successful because the film got made or not? It might be a thing where the longer you’re in the profession the more it gets infused into you, but that goes with anything.
I don’t like judging anyone based on resumes. But maybe we are judging mcsweeneys and not cera, if we are judging anyone. If people like the story, great, and because I may not, I don’t jump to grand injustices. My tastes are more warped these days. I think this is something I like about mcsweeneys though, they do things in the face of controversy unflinchingly.
Eggers does similar things in Best American Non, getting people who aren’t necessarily writers but on the fringes of being writers to write intros or include, people who if they wrote at all we think it would probably be kind of good, like if Bill Murray wrote a novel. Sometimes it turns out to not be good though. Sometimes not be good is good in a not good goodness.
Ethan Hawke was nice when he read in Portland for his last book (though the part he read could have been edited better). After the booksigning, I expressed my jealousy of him and his making out with Julie Delpy. He sort of raised his eyebrows as if to say, “Yeah, I’d make out with her forever.”
I like Michael Cera too, though I haven’t met him.
Michael Madsen wrote some books of poetry. But um…
Ethan Hawke was nice when he read in Portland for his last book (though the part he read could have been edited better). After the booksigning, I expressed my jealousy of him and his making out with Julie Delpy. He sort of raised his eyebrows as if to say, “Yeah, I’d make out with her forever.”
I like Michael Cera too, though I haven’t met him.
Michael Madsen wrote some books of poetry. But um…
there is a guy that no one has ever heard of who has been doing excellent stand up comedy for almost 30 years. he’s been on tour with tommy chong, soupy sales, 2 live crew, and once had tim allen open for him…
he is also an award winning humor columnist and non-fiction writing, who is leaving for the UK soon to teach comedic writing as a phd candidate. his name is bill barr. dont google him, you won’t find anything. he won the wilkes university flash fiction contest at awp this year and finished 2nd last year. he’s pretty fucking great.
there is a guy that no one has ever heard of who has been doing excellent stand up comedy for almost 30 years. he’s been on tour with tommy chong, soupy sales, 2 live crew, and once had tim allen open for him…
he is also an award winning humor columnist and non-fiction writing, who is leaving for the UK soon to teach comedic writing as a phd candidate. his name is bill barr. dont google him, you won’t find anything. he won the wilkes university flash fiction contest at awp this year and finished 2nd last year. he’s pretty fucking great.
well, this is the first mcsweeney’s my daughter actually wants to read. (michael cera is her numb 1 crush.)
also, carrie fisher?
woody allen, for sure!
michael ian black? (writes for mcsweeney’s web; does that count?)
well, this is the first mcsweeney’s my daughter actually wants to read. (michael cera is her numb 1 crush.)
also, carrie fisher?
woody allen, for sure!
michael ian black? (writes for mcsweeney’s web; does that count?)
did someone already mention this?
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/03/04/jams-franco-gets-a-book-d_n_171701.html
did someone already mention this?
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/03/04/jams-franco-gets-a-book-d_n_171701.html
Michael is really nice.
Michael is really nice.
Don’t forget the British. Both Stephen Fry and Hue Laurie have written well-received comic novels.
Michael Cera is a Canadian. His story is comic.
The alliterative moral of this story:
Crown Commonwealth comedians can compose, certainly.
(Nerd.)
Don’t forget the British. Both Stephen Fry and Hue Laurie have written well-received comic novels.
Michael Cera is a Canadian. His story is comic.
The alliterative moral of this story:
Crown Commonwealth comedians can compose, certainly.
(Nerd.)
Terrible, terrible, terrible.
Terrible, terrible, terrible.
Are you sure this is the Cera story? I’ve read a very different excerpt attributed to him.
Are you sure this is the Cera story? I’ve read a very different excerpt attributed to him.
haha, whoops. it’s totally not.
haha, whoops. it’s totally not.
Woody Allen for sure. His books are great (the early ones at least.
Woody Allen for sure. His books are great (the early ones at least.
I’ve heard he’s actually a pretty good writer and takes it really seriously. Hey, why not. Better than most actors who just cash in on a crappy book without learning any of the craft.
I’ve heard he’s actually a pretty good writer and takes it really seriously. Hey, why not. Better than most actors who just cash in on a crappy book without learning any of the craft.
Oops.
I liked what I read of it.
Cera’s story, not the prior excerpted.
Oops.
I liked what I read of it.
Cera’s story, not the prior excerpted.
what the heck was the thing you thought was it?
what the heck was the thing you thought was it?
another piece from the issue, sent out with the monthly update. i am a moron, i think i didnt even look.
sorry all.
another piece from the issue, sent out with the monthly update. i am a moron, i think i didnt even look.
sorry all.
there’s an irish author/comedian named a.l. kennedy. haven’t read her books or heard her comedy but i know she does it and is semi-famous/semi-regarded at least for it. i read two stories of hers at the slush desk the other day. i liked them. they were dirty.
there’s an irish author/comedian named a.l. kennedy. haven’t read her books or heard her comedy but i know she does it and is semi-famous/semi-regarded at least for it. i read two stories of hers at the slush desk the other day. i liked them. they were dirty.
i’ve heard good things mostly about him too. that’s cool that he takes is seriously. i just read online he just got a book deal with his “power agent” or whatever. interesting. i felt interested.
i’ve heard good things mostly about him too. that’s cool that he takes is seriously. i just read online he just got a book deal with his “power agent” or whatever. interesting. i felt interested.
here’s the excerpt of the michael cera story, courtesy of my mcsweeney’s spam. not sure if it was posted earlier incorrectly or what (i’m arriving here late):
from “Pinecone” by Michael Cera
Carroll Silver once considered himself hot property. Yep, he used to think to himself, I exude all sorts of delicious mystery. Girls look at me and they think Holy hell what wouldn’t give to have that man kiss me on the neck. Men and boys alike look at me and think to themselves What am I? What the hell kind of scum am I? I thought was good, but just look at that fellow. Look at him. Where on earth does somebody like that come from? Where can get those clothes? Approximately how long will it take me to transform myself to at least look like somebody who has enough sense to admire and try to emulate someone like him?
Carroll no longer considered himself hot property.
In the morning, Carroll would glance at the mirror only to find his horrified reflection staring back at him. He’d furrow his brow and tense his face up skeptically, in disbelief at what he was seeing. He’d slap the skin under his chin and grab a fistful of it, tugging on it with breathy contempt. He’d run his fingers through his hair, which had stopped growing around his ears the way it used to. In what seemed like a moment he had turned thirty-eight, become lonely, looked sloppy, and was hungry.
After several years of moderate success, Carroll was starting to become disappointed with the roles that he was being sent out for. Whereas he used to play the younger, more handsome brother, or perhaps a handsome only child, he was now being brought in for the annoying best friend, or the free-spirited uncle. One day while learning his lines in his trailer, Carroll made a frustrated phone call to his agent, which ended in him firing his agent, which led to him looking for a new agent, which led to him not being able to get a new agent. In an attempt to take his mind off of the severity of the matter, he stopped looking for an agent altogether and began going to bed early.
Carroll’s last job—the one that led to his firing his former agent—had now been eight months ago. He had been cast as a gym teacher in a comedy about a young basketball team. One day the prop master, Glen, asked him if he had a preference of pitch for the whistle he would be using in the role of Coach Kelman. He told him he didn’t give a damn, he would just try to hit his mark, say the right lines, and otherwise keep quiet. The prop master laughed. He liked Carroll. Carroll hadn’t meant to make him laugh and he certainly didn’t like him back. In fact, he could hardly stand the prop master’s laugh, and how red his face got when he was smiling. He was the kind of guy that Carroll, in his younger years, would have had a lot of fun with. Carroll was no longer in his younger years and the prop master made his skin crawl on a daily basis. Just hand me the fucking whistle and hand me the fucking clipboard, he thought to himself, and nobody is going to give a shit about the pitch of the whistle and nobody is going give a shit about what I have written on the forms that are clipped into my clipboard and nobody is going to even watch this stupid fucking movie except for little kids and everything’s going to be fine.
He very much liked Sandra, the on-set wardrobe assistant. He liked her so much, in fact, that he folded and hung up his wardrobe in his trailer at the end of the day. In fact, he liked her so much that he wished on a daily basis that he didn’t have to wear that stupid whistle and those gym shorts and the baseball cap when he was around her.
One morning, he stepped into his trailer and found a note from Sandra sitting on the bed. He smiled uncontrollably and locked his door. He giddily picked up the note, which read: Hi hun yesterday during the bleachers scene your balls were showing when you were sitting down so I gave you a pair of black undies for today just so it won’t happen again. I’ll put them in with your wardrobe from now on.
here’s the excerpt of the michael cera story, courtesy of my mcsweeney’s spam. not sure if it was posted earlier incorrectly or what (i’m arriving here late):
from “Pinecone” by Michael Cera
Carroll Silver once considered himself hot property. Yep, he used to think to himself, I exude all sorts of delicious mystery. Girls look at me and they think Holy hell what wouldn’t give to have that man kiss me on the neck. Men and boys alike look at me and think to themselves What am I? What the hell kind of scum am I? I thought was good, but just look at that fellow. Look at him. Where on earth does somebody like that come from? Where can get those clothes? Approximately how long will it take me to transform myself to at least look like somebody who has enough sense to admire and try to emulate someone like him?
Carroll no longer considered himself hot property.
In the morning, Carroll would glance at the mirror only to find his horrified reflection staring back at him. He’d furrow his brow and tense his face up skeptically, in disbelief at what he was seeing. He’d slap the skin under his chin and grab a fistful of it, tugging on it with breathy contempt. He’d run his fingers through his hair, which had stopped growing around his ears the way it used to. In what seemed like a moment he had turned thirty-eight, become lonely, looked sloppy, and was hungry.
After several years of moderate success, Carroll was starting to become disappointed with the roles that he was being sent out for. Whereas he used to play the younger, more handsome brother, or perhaps a handsome only child, he was now being brought in for the annoying best friend, or the free-spirited uncle. One day while learning his lines in his trailer, Carroll made a frustrated phone call to his agent, which ended in him firing his agent, which led to him looking for a new agent, which led to him not being able to get a new agent. In an attempt to take his mind off of the severity of the matter, he stopped looking for an agent altogether and began going to bed early.
Carroll’s last job—the one that led to his firing his former agent—had now been eight months ago. He had been cast as a gym teacher in a comedy about a young basketball team. One day the prop master, Glen, asked him if he had a preference of pitch for the whistle he would be using in the role of Coach Kelman. He told him he didn’t give a damn, he would just try to hit his mark, say the right lines, and otherwise keep quiet. The prop master laughed. He liked Carroll. Carroll hadn’t meant to make him laugh and he certainly didn’t like him back. In fact, he could hardly stand the prop master’s laugh, and how red his face got when he was smiling. He was the kind of guy that Carroll, in his younger years, would have had a lot of fun with. Carroll was no longer in his younger years and the prop master made his skin crawl on a daily basis. Just hand me the fucking whistle and hand me the fucking clipboard, he thought to himself, and nobody is going to give a shit about the pitch of the whistle and nobody is going give a shit about what I have written on the forms that are clipped into my clipboard and nobody is going to even watch this stupid fucking movie except for little kids and everything’s going to be fine.
He very much liked Sandra, the on-set wardrobe assistant. He liked her so much, in fact, that he folded and hung up his wardrobe in his trailer at the end of the day. In fact, he liked her so much that he wished on a daily basis that he didn’t have to wear that stupid whistle and those gym shorts and the baseball cap when he was around her.
One morning, he stepped into his trailer and found a note from Sandra sitting on the bed. He smiled uncontrollably and locked his door. He giddily picked up the note, which read: Hi hun yesterday during the bleachers scene your balls were showing when you were sitting down so I gave you a pair of black undies for today just so it won’t happen again. I’ll put them in with your wardrobe from now on.