When most people need something to do, they turn on a TV show. Arkells frontman Max Kerman, on the other hand, decides to write a book.

"I was looking for something new to sink my teeth into, where I would be challenged, learn a lot, and most of all, enjoy it," he told CBC Books in an email.

His debut, Try Hard, is a look into the day-to-day of a musician from a touring band and answers your burning questions about what goes into making a song, preparing for a show and marketing a band. Part memoir, part self-help book, it breaks down the creative process — and reveals that trying hard is often the secret to success.

"I hope this comes through in the writing, but enthusiasm — plain old enthusiasm — really goes a long way. Such an obvious point, but anyone who gets anything done is simply enthusiastic about the work," he said.

"If you can earnestly participate in some pursuit, for no other reason than understanding that the act of participating is the gift itself, then good things usually come. Unexpected things. So, I hope the book can be a nudge to anyone who needs one. None of it is rocket science, it's just 'one foot in front of the other' stuff."

Try Hard will be out on April 22, 2025. You can read an excerpt below.

In grade 7, Ms. Janes assigned the class a research project. Each student was asked to interview someone in the community that had a job we might want one day and then write about what we learned.

Most of my classmates reached out to their parents' friends — dental hygienists or mechanics — while others went over to the local fire station and spoke to a firefighter. Those approaches didn't feel particularly interesting to me. It was 1999, and I had a singular focus in my life. I was obsessed with Vince Carter, the new star of the Toronto Raptors, and I wondered if I could somehow use the assignment to get closer to Vince.

My newly minted email address was vince_kerman@hotmail.com. I invited Vince to my birthday party (he did not reply), attended his basketball camp in the summer, and drew pictures of him during art class. Knowing I probably wouldn't hear back from the man himself, I took a different track. I decided to get in touch with the person who'd drafted Vince. The person responsible for this decision was the Raptors general manager, Glen Grunwald. Glen, a former Division 1 college basketball player turned lawyer turned sports executive, was the architect of the team. It was an ambitious idea but also potentially a very fun one.

I opened the phone book and flipped to the back where the businesses were listed. I found the number for the Toronto Raptors front office and their address at the recently opened Air Canada Centre. Without wasting a moment, I called and the receptionist answered.

In my twelve-year-old preteen voice, I nervously asked, "Can I please speak to Mr. Glen Grunwald?"

"Please hold."

Within a minute, I was put through to his secretary. With my heart pounding, I explained in my most professional tone the nature of the school assignment and how Glen had my dream job. Maybe it was the randomness of my request or perhaps the fact that I'd caught her off guard, but she agreed to arrange a phone call with Glen. Immediately, my school assignment became the most fun and exciting thing in my life. The instinct to find an adventure in any potentially mundane assignment was revealing: chasing the thing that's reasonable and obvious will never have quite the same payoff as chasing the thing that really excites you.

I called Glen while he was on the road with the team in Charlotte, North Carolina. We spoke for twenty minutes, and he was very patient and kind with my questions. I emailed him some follow-up questions the next week. For my birthday, through some secret coordination with my dad, he gave me a backstage tour of the arena and dressing room before a Raptors game.

Throughout the entire experience, I was so genuinely thrilled to have a relationship with Glen. I felt incredibly lucky. The rush of calling his office. The emails back and forth. It was purely so much fun. It's a feeling that has since become a part of my daily life and work.

I'm not sure where the instinct to ask comes from, but why not? If you get in the habit of reaching out and connecting dots, and it becomes a part of your life, the stakes are never particularly high. I'm just poking around and seeing what might happen. I don't feel like anyone owes me anything; I simply hope that someone sees a spark of something fun or interesting or of mutual benefit. Or simple kindness. You should assume you will rarely get the response you're looking for, but that's okay. If you hold grudges and have the memory of an elephant, you might feel betrayed or resentful. Luckily, I have the memory of a goldfish.