Tonight in Toronto, Arkells frontman Max Kerman returns to his old high school stomping grounds to celebrate the release of his debut book TRY HARD: Creative Work in Progress with a special event . The evening at Harbord Collegiate Institute promises storytelling, behind-the-scenes moments from Kerman’s life as a musician, and a few surprises. Each $43.93 ticket includes a signed copy of the book, available for pick-up at the event. Doors open at 7 p.m., with the show beginning at 8.
Streets of Toronto sat down with Kerman to ask him about the book, being a ‘try hard’ and his love of the city.
You took on a major project with this book. What inspired you to do it?
I’m a big believer in just having something to do all day. Over the years, people have asked if I’d ever write a book. I know rock and roll biographies are popular, but I’ve never been too interested in them. What I do enjoy is learning about the daily lives of people who do different things. When I’m out to dinner with someone who doesn’t work in the arts, I always ask: What’s your day like? What time do you wake up? How much sleep do you get? How do you keep your job interesting?
And when I talk about my job that way, people seem to perk up. So I figured maybe the book could be an extension of those kinds of conversations. I also mention in the book that I tend to get a bit anxious in early January and late August—those are quiet times in the music industry, so no one’s replying to emails. I wanted something to do that didn’t rely on anyone else. Just me, a coffee shop, and a project I could dive into on my own.
The book is called Try Hard, and you refer to yourself as being a ‘try hard.’ Can you unpack that term?
Sure. I used to feel a little insecure about being too eager or too enthusiastic. Like, should I try to be a bit cooler? But over time, I realized the people who get things done are often the ones who approach every day with curiosity, wonder, and energy. They ask questions, throw ideas out there, and see what sticks.
So I’ve made peace with being that guy. I’m energetic when I care about something. When I don’t care, I’m very, very lazy. But the book is also about finding what entertains and drives you—and then leaning into that all day long.
Did anything surprise you while writing the book? Something you learned about yourself or your creative process?
Yeah, actually. I always thought I was a “short burst” kind of person. My days usually involve bouncing from one thing to another. That’s the pace of life now—social media posts, quick creative ideas, little piano sessions. But writing a book requires patience. You need to be ready to edit again and again. I didn’t think I’d like that part, but I really did. There’s something deeply satisfying about work that requires a slower, more focused rhythm. I’m now trying to make more time in my life for that kind of work.
‘Try Hard’ has a very conversational tone. How important was it for you that it felt like a chat with the reader?
That was really important. I think the best writing feels effortless to the reader. You don’t want to feel like the writer is trying to impress you or prove they’re smarter than you. The only thing anyone can be is the best version of themselves. So I asked myself, what’s the best version of me?
Hopefully, that’s someone relatable, with a sense of humor and some humility. I’m not a seasoned writer, so starting from a place of honesty felt right.
You talk a lot about collaboration in the book. What makes a good creative partner in your world?
I always want to work with someone who gets excited by ideas. In improv comedy—though I’ve never done it—the rule is “yes, and.” If someone shuts down a suggestion, the scene’s over. But in creative work, you want a back-and-forth. You want to feel safe throwing out a bad idea, knowing it’ll be met with curiosity and an effort to turn it into something better. That’s what I look for—someone who won’t roll their eyes but instead says, “Okay, maybe there’s something here.”
How was writing a book like ‘Try Hard’ different from writing music, either solo or with the band?
Honestly, it was more similar than you’d think. When we work with a producer, we talk about the feeling we want a song to evoke. We might say, “Those drums sound too much like Metallica—we need more Beatles.” It’s all about references and trying to articulate a vibe.
With the book, I had those same kinds of conversations with my editor. “This section feels too self-serious.” Or, “How do we get this part to really connect emotionally?” I even shared early drafts of essays with our manager just like I’d share a song demo. I’d read them to her while walking in the park, just to see if the bones were there. You get a sense pretty quickly when something’s working.
What do you hope a young creative person takes away from reading your book?
I hope they see that a lot of creative work is hard—it can slow you down. Being in a band can be hard. Social media can be hard. Balancing a budget can be hard. But part of the creative journey is figuring out how to make those hard things feel meaningful and even fun. It’s about shaping them to fit your life in a way that feels real to you.
In our band, I’m so grateful that each member loves and takes their job seriously. When everyone shows up with that mindset, amazing things can happen.
You’re hosting a launch event at your old high school auditorium. That’s a cool full-circle moment. Tell me about it.
Yeah! When they asked where I wanted to do the Toronto event, there were the usual author spots. But I thought—what’s the try hard move here? What would be a memorable venue for fans? What location speaks to the spirit of the book?
That’s how I landed on Harbord Collegiate, my old public high school in downtown Toronto. It has this beautiful old auditorium, and I thought—when was the last time most people even set foot in a public school auditorium? I love public schools and everything they represent. They’re the lifeblood of any thriving city. So I thought, let’s celebrate that space.
Quick Hits with Max Kerman
What was your first job?
Rink guard at the Trinity Bellwoods skating rink.
Worst piece of career advice?
In the early days, I got bad advice about business—things like, “Don’t trust anyone,” or “Everyone’s out to get you.” That kind of suspicion isn’t how I want to live or work. Operating from a place of trust is way better.
Where do you go to get away from it all?
Honestly, a simple walk through the city does the trick.
Your idea of perfect happiness?
A well-rounded day filled with creative work, time with friends and family, and some physical activity.
Your greatest fear?
Turbulence on an airplane.
Which living person do you most admire?
Barack Obama.
Your greatest extravagance?
Not feeling guilty when I buy an expensive smoothie bowl.
Talent you wish you had?
I wish I were a better skater. I’m terrible at hockey.
